Chapter 471 Direct Detonation
Despite his severe injuries, George used every last bit of strength to shield Emma in his arms. His left arm was numb from an earlier gunshot wound, but his right hand still gripped the nearly empty rifle tightly. Each breath came with excruciating pain, yet his gaze remained unwavering.
"No one touches her!" he growled, his voice hoarse but resolute, filled with anger and determination. Blood dripped down his face, but he held Emma protectively.
Black Shark saw that George was at his limit and smirked. "You got nowhere to run. Give up, and maybe we'll let you live."
George responded with action—using his weakened but determined body to shield Emma. Blood flowed from his wounds, staining Emma's clothes crimson, but he didn't even glance at it.
"I'd rather die than surrender!" The words seemed to be his only faith and dignity at that moment.
The pirates, realizing George was at his end, began to close in from all sides. Eugene whispered to Black Shark, "Why not just blow up the villa? It would solve everything at once. Then we can clean up and eliminate the evidence."
Black Shark nodded. "Blow it up. That'll take care of everything."
George's eyes flashed with a desperate madness as he heard this. He knew this might be their final moment. Everything around him blurred, except for Emma, who was the only thing he cared about.
He kissed Emma's forehead and whispered, "I'm sorry; I might not be able to protect you."
His voice, though soft, was like a final vow, filled with a resolve and deep love that defied death. It was a force that wouldn't yield, a protective instinct and deep affection etched into his very bones.
Miles away, on the deck of a luxury yacht, Michael stood, his gaze intense, surveying the island ahead.
"The tracker shows they're on this island," his assistant said, handing over Lucas's tracker. The screen flashed with a bright red dot, Emma's signal.
Michael's fist clenched, his knuckles cracking, his eyes filled with a chilling intensity, revealing his fierce determination.
"George!" he cursed under his breath, his voice filled with long-suppressed rage and indignation.
As the yacht approached the island, thick smoke and flames from the villa came into view, indicating a recent fierce battle. Michael's brow furrowed, his anxiety and unease growing, a sense of foreboding enveloping his heart.
"If George hadn't taken Emma, she wouldn't be in this danger!" Michael growled, his anger echoing on the deck. "This is all his fault!"
Every word carried his deep worry and anger, like a blade stabbing his heart. Emma was the most important person in his life, her safety and happiness his top priority. His love for her went beyond ordinary affection, deeply ingrained and unshakable.
The yacht finally landed on the beach, waves crashing against the hull with a low roar. Michael led a dozen heavily armed elite soldiers onto the island. Their steps were quick and steady, following the smoke and battle signs, each step filled with urgency and danger.
"Find Emma's exact location!" Michael ordered, his voice cold, his anger and anxiety palpable.
The assistant quickly reported back, his voice trembling, "The tracker shows her signal is in the center of the villa!"
Why the center of the villa?
The sounds alone indicated intense fighting in that area.
Emma, though she had learned some basic self-defense during their time in Sunterra, had never faced such intense combat.
George! This was all his fault!
Michael wanted to kill George on the spot, not just to avenge his parents but also for Emma's sake.
Emma, you had to hold on!
Michael closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself, but the fear steadily increased. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with a bloodthirsty determination, transforming him into a fearless warrior.
"Surround the villa, leave no one alive except Emma!" he shouted, his killing intent clear, determined to make anyone who threatened Emma's safety pay.
Just as the pirates were about to launch their final deadly attack on George and Emma, a thunderous drone roar echoed from afar. Fifty drones sliced through the clouds, approaching with overwhelming force.
Michael's team struck from three different directions simultaneously. The Stuart family's bodyguards and Michael's elite soldiers moved like a precise war machine, every detail meticulously planned, every action deadly.
"Fire!" Michael's cold command turned the battlefield into a hellscape.
Bullets rained down from all sides like a torrential downpour.
The pirates had no time to react, with nearly half of them killed instantly. Black Shark realized these were no ordinary bodyguards but highly trained elite soldiers.
Michael led the charge, attacking from the side of the villa. His rifle was like the Grim Reaper's scythe, each shot swift and deadly, hitting vital points with precision. The sound of bullets piercing bodies echoed sharply.
In just five minutes, the pirates' defenses crumbled. Eugene tried to organize a last stand, raising his gun to fight back, but Michael's shot hit him squarely between the eyes, killing him instantly. His body hadn't even hit the ground before blood stained the floor.
Black Shark, realizing defeat was inevitable, tried to blow up the villa, aiming for mutual destruction. But just as he was about to press the detonator, Michael's precise shot hit his hand, foiling the plan. The shot was so accurate it seemed the bullet carried a will to kill.
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