...
"Ah~" Matt Doyle had barely raised his gun when a silver gleam flashed in. It pierced into his wrist, blood splattering, and the gun naturally fell down. The faces of the two burly men guarding him changed significantly as they both drew their guns simultaneously.
Compared to Matt Doyle's half-hearted display of gunplay, these two strongmen with somewhat Asian features were exceptionally professional. Drawing their guns, aiming, their movements steady and decisive, fluid as one—indicating that they were trained professional mercenaries.
But that was as far as they could go. The moment Yves King threw the dagger, his movements were swift like a leopard. The distance between them was not far, the short gap closing instantly with King's burst of speed.
"Boom~"
