Chapter 227 The Sniper's Scope
The warehouse reverberated with the sharp crack of gunfire. Silas lunged forward, his muscles coiled with tension, as he exchanged blows with Gideon. Sweat glistened on their brows, mixing with the grime of the dilapidated building. Each punch and kick was delivered with precision, a dance of violence choreographed by years of enmity.
Gideon's sneer was a mask of contempt. "You always were predictable, Silas," he spat, dodging a right hook and countering with a swift jab to Silas's ribs.
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