Steve didn't know how he had survived the last few days.
His streak of bad luck had begun that night, over ten days ago.
Charlie and his team had silently infiltrated his villa.
Although Steve still wanted to skin them alive, he had to admit:
How the hell did that group manage to deceive his state-of-the-art surveillance and bypass his security in such a short time?
Not only had they broken in, but they had also vanished with two safes weighing several tons.
To this day, Steve couldn't figure out how they did it.
Thinking about it, he grudgingly admired Charlie's skills as an international thief.
But that admiration only fueled his desire to see Charlie dead.
Ever since the night he lost the bulk of his fortune, Steve's life had spiraled.
After confirming through the security company's footage that Charlie's team was responsible, Steve relied on his memory. He recalled that John Bridger—the safecracker he had murdered—had a daughter.
Leveraging his contacts, he quickly identified the owner of a well-known locksmith company in Los Angeles.
Stella Bridger, the beautiful safecracker, was John's daughter.
Steve sent his men to kidnap her.
As expected, Charlie Croker, who had harbored feelings for Stella for years, contacted her shortly after.
Steve informed Charlie of the kidnapping and demanded an exchange: the stolen gold for Stella's life.
Everything was going according to Steve's script.
But he hadn't anticipated Charlie's move. That night, Charlie showed up with a car full of fake gold and a bomb strapped to his chest.
While Steve hesitated, Charlie's unseen partner shot out the villa's power supply with a crossbow, plunging everything into darkness.
Then, while Charlie drew their fire, his partner killed two of Steve's men and rescued Stella.
Afterward, Handsome Rob and Left Ear—Steve's former partners—risked their lives, using explosives to extract Charlie.
Steve was certain he had shot Charlie at least twice, once in the chest. Handsome Rob had taken a hit too.
But they had escaped.
With multiple explosions rocking the neighborhood, Steve knew the villa was compromised.
Amidst the chaos, he pretended to chase Charlie but instead drove off in the car loaded with "gold bars."
Steve thought that recovering his fortune was enough. He could let Charlie go for now.
But when he reached his safe house and inspected the goods?
He flew into a rage.
The "gold bars" looked identical to the ones they had stolen from the Italian mob in Venice.
But they were fake. Lead, paint, and lies.
Steve had been played. Again.
He had lost everything. His fortune was gone. The US police and FBI had issued warrants for his arrest.
A desperate man with nothing left to lose is a dangerous man.
Steve couldn't find Charlie's hideout.
So, he staked out Stella's office and her apartment.
He knew Stella wasn't stupid. She wouldn't show up anytime soon.
But he was unwilling to accept defeat.
He had lived like a king. Now he was a fugitive. Even if it cost him his life, he was going to take back what was his.
He decided to gamble.
He bet that the woman would eventually return.
However, Steve didn't know that he would never see Stella again.
Hidden near Stella's apartment, carefully monitoring the entrance, Steve suddenly felt a wave of inexplicable agitation.
He trusted his sixth sense. This intuition had saved him many times in the past.
It was this same feeling that had alerted him the night his villa was robbed, almost allowing him to catch the thieves.
But...
Clearly, this time, his intuition was just a little too late.
Just as he looked up, scanning his surroundings in confusion...
Danger arrived with a sharp whistle.
Thwip!
Thud!
Amidst the sound of air being sliced, Steve suddenly felt like he had been slammed in the chest by a sledgehammer.
A dull, agonizing pain exploded in his torso.
Staggering back a few steps from the impact, Steve realized belatedly that he had been shot.
Instinctively, he tried to duck behind a nearby tree. He looked down at his chest.
There, a slender alloy shaft was protruding, vibrating slightly with his movements.
"Is this..."
"A crossbow bolt?"
Blood began to gush from the wound like a broken dam.
Steve could feel warmth spreading across his back too. It was sticky.
The pain radiated through his body. His head felt heavy. His vision began to darken.
He realized the bolt had pierced him through.
Cough!
Bloody froth bubbled from his mouth and nose.
The bolt had hit his lung.
He didn't have much time.
"How... how did it... come to this..."
Steve opened his mouth unwillingly. Using the last of his strength, he tried to look toward Stella's apartment.
But as he collapsed, his gaze drifted to an apartment building tens of meters away.
Through the blurring vision, he saw a figure in a window.
Their eyes met for a fleeting second.
Then, the figure turned and walked away without hesitation.
"Charlie... was that you?"
Steve murmured venomously.
Thinking that in the end, he had lost to his old partner...
He muttered a curse too faint to be heard.
Then, he closed his eyes forever.
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