Heavy breathing sprayed on Anna Taylor's neck, raising goosebumps on the back of her neck.
The blade was slowly withdrawn.
Anna thought her words had an effect, so she writhed even more energetically, hoping the man wouldn't hurt her.
The next moment, a large hand suddenly grabbed her hair.
THUD!
Anna's head was slammed against the cold wall. It nearly knocked her unconscious, but the piercing pain from her scalp kept her awake.
Anna was forced to press her head against the wall to lessen the pain.
"I ask, you answer. One extra word, one lie, one second of hesitation, and you won't see tomorrow's sun!"
The low, hoarse male voice made Anna shiver.
She wanted to nod, but her head was pinned. She wanted to speak, but could only make pained whimpers as her throat was pressed against the wall.
Just as her fear peaked, the hand gripping her hair loosened.
"What's your name?"
"Anna, Anna Taylor. My name is Anna Taylor."
"Where do you live?"
Anna's body trembled; she hesitated. Her daughter was at her apartment.
The next moment, Anna felt a sharp pain in her wrist. A warm, wet sensation gushed from her left wrist, dripping, dripping, dripping unceasingly onto the floor.
"This cut is only a few hairsbreadths from your artery," the voice said, cold and hoarse. "You can continue to hesitate, but with the next cut, you'll lose the right to enjoy anything ever again."
Anna was so frightened she went limp, tears streamed down her face.
The most terrifying thing in the world isn't the moment death arrives, but waiting, walking death's tightrope, never knowing when it will finally come.
Anna's psychological defenses completely shattered.
She sagged, half-limp, against Dean, sobbing as she spoke, "Apartment 502, 72 Chinatown Street."
"Which Chinatown!"
Los Angeles had two Chinatowns.
This time, Anna replied very quickly, "The Chinatown in Hanqing District, near Los Angeles Square."
"How much do you make a month?"
"Six or seven thousand dollars, but I don't have much in savings."
Dean: "…"
He seemed to be making idle conversation, moving from simple information to private matters, then from private matters to more shameful questions.
Anna, too, gradually became numb, turning into an answering machine.
"How many people did you tell about the Hogan Bank armored car?"
"Eight... nine. I'm sorry, I can't remember clearly. There were quite a few people there at the time, and I'd had a bit to drink... I can't recall exactly how many."
Dean: "…"
Fuck!
He felt as if he could see all that money slipping away.
This woman! She couldn't control what was between her legs, and she couldn't control her mouth either!
Anna's pupils constricted violently, and her body began to tremble again.
She realized who her captor was!
The Hogan Bank armored car had been robbed, and Nathan and the others had lost contact around the same time. Anna had suspected Nathan and his crew were responsible.
The man behind her had to be the client who had leaked her the information about the armored car!
It was over. She was dead for sure! Damn you, Nathan!!!
At that moment, many long-forgotten memories surged through Anna's mind, finally settling on her daughter's sweet face.
She was consumed by regret.
She regretted her loose tongue.
She also regretted choosing to become a stripper to make life easier, which led to her meeting Nathan.
If she had another chance, she would definitely choose to be an ordinary waitress, as long as she could support her daughter!
Dean was lost in silent thought.
As Anna grew more terrified, she seemed to sense her impending fate. The reek of urine began to emanate from her.
She had wet herself.
But Dean's hand remained steady. His years as a Sweeper in a previous life had hardened his heart.
Next, all he had to do was guide the blade along the muscle grain. A light slash, and blood would gush from Anna's throat. She wouldn't even be able to scream. It wouldn't splatter blood everywhere—it would only create an arc-shaped spray on the wall. Quiet, efficient.
But none of this mattered anymore. When more than five people knew something, it was no longer a secret. That money was as good as gone.
"Good. I appreciate your cooperation," Dean said, his voice surprisingly calm. He retracted the blade. "Now, close your eyes and count to one hundred before you open them. Then you can go to the hospital."
He sighed internally and turned to leave. He didn't like meaningless killing.
"I'll count! I'll count!"
Anna felt the blade leave her neck and was overwhelmed with a tumultuous wave of relief and terror. She collapsed weakly against the cold wall, her eyes squeezed shut.
In the dim alleyway, shadows stretched long.
Footsteps receded into the distance.
In the cold night breeze, a woman's trembling count could be faintly heard...
「...」
Back at his temporary residence, Dean checked the traps he had set. Confirming no one had intruded, he collapsed into bed and fell asleep.
Anna wasn't dead.
Keeping those over three million US dollars on hand was a liability.
Dean planned to contact Eve the next day to see if he could leverage this accomplishment for a transfer to a cushy, low-stress department—essentially an early retirement.
After all, as a five-star citizen of Los Angeles, one had to consider making a living, right?
「...」
Early the next morning, Dean was still sound asleep.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
The sound of knocking came from outside the door.
Dean jolted awake, reflexively drawing the handgun from under his pillow. He rolled off the bed and onto the floor, his eyes fixed on the door.
"Dean, are you there?" a soft female voice called from outside.
Eve? Dean wondered. Having integrated his predecessor's memories, he immediately recognized the voice of his superior, Eve, the deputy captain of the Narcotics Division. What is she doing here?
After thinking it over, Dean didn't make a sound. Instead, he carefully smoothed the bedsheets and hid behind the curtains.
Outside, Eve, dressed in a sweatshirt with the hood up, saw no response. She glanced left and right down the corridor to ensure it was empty. Then, she put on gloves, took a piece of wire from her pocket, and slipped it into the lock.
After a couple of gentle twists, there was a soft click.
The door to the rundown apartment opened.
Eve pushed open the door and swept her gaze across the empty room. Seeing no one inside, she walked in, closed the door again, and went straight to the bedside. There, she pulled a packet of white powder from her pocket and stuffed it into a crevice in the bedframe.
After doing all this, Eve stood up, ready to leave.
Suddenly, her gaze shifted to the bedsheets. As if possessed, she took off her glove and reached out to touch the sheets.
They're warm! Not good! A knot of dread tightened in Eve's chest.
The next instant, a shadowy figure burst from behind the curtains, striking her hard on the neck.
Eve grunted, her vision went black, and her consciousness wavered as she collapsed heavily onto the bed.
Dean approached with an expressionless face. He took handcuffs from Eve's waist and cuffed her hands behind her back. He continued to search her, finding a gun and a small, uncommon handheld video camera. Finally, he reached into the crevice by the bed and pulled out the packet of white powder to inspect.
It was, as expected, a packet of drugs. Weighing about five hundred grams, it was enough to warrant a severe sentence.
Eve had snuck in, planted the drugs, and brought a body camera and a gun—her intentions were blatantly obvious. This damned woman wanted to frame him! It must have been because of their last phone call; she must have sensed his perfunctory attitude and decided to use this method to blackmail and control him!
Dean had already been seething from losing a large sum of money the previous night. Now, he was even more furious.
Seeing Eve, sprawled on the bed, showing signs of regaining consciousness, he sneered. He propped her up against the headboard, picked up the video camera, and then dragged two large bags of cash from under the bed, opening them and displaying them in front of her.
Just over ten breaths later, Eve's eyes snapped open. She looked around in panic, her gaze falling on two large, open bags.
The large bags were stuffed full of cash.
What is this?!
"Surprised, Deputy Eve?" Dean's voice came from her side.
Panic flickered in Eve's eyes. She stiffly turned her head. "Hey, Dean. I think there's been some misunderstanding between us."
"Misunderstanding?" Dean's face bore a gentle smile as he lightly caressed her. "Eve, I risked my life to find the stolen money, and you're trying to frame me. I'm very hurt right now!"
Eve felt his lecherous hands on her but didn't dare protest, fearing she'd provoke Dean. Instead, she forced a seductive smile and wriggled. "Dean, that's wonderful! You've performed a great service! I'll definitely help—"
"Shut up!" Dean squeezed hard, cutting Eve off.
Eve gasped in pain.
She endured the pain and said, "So what do you want? To kill me? Then you'll take this money and be hunted by the police and the councilman's people, even endangering your family?"
Still daring to threaten me!
Dean slapped Eve hard across the face.
Eve's right cheek rapidly swelled and reddened.
Pulling back his hand, Dean felt considerably better.
Facing Eve's furious glare, he reached out and unlocked her handcuffs.
"What I want depends on you. You personally shattered the trust between us, which makes me feel very insecure. If you're willing to rebuild that trust..."
Dean gestured towards the pile of cash. "The credit will still be yours. And by the way, you'll also gain Senator Snetter's friendship. I hear his approval ratings are very high right now; he has a strong chance of becoming the next mayor of Los Angeles."
Eve, now free, had been looking for an opportunity to overpower Dean. But hearing his words, her breathing quickened involuntarily, and even the throbbing pain in her cheek seemed to subside a little.
Her eyes flickered as she looked at Dean and whispered, "So, what do you want me to do?"
Dean leaned close to her ear and murmured something.
"Impossible!" Eve shoved Dean away, her expression a mixture of shame and fury.
Dean sneered and grabbed Eve's hair. "With this money, I can get transferred from the Anti-Gang Narcotics Division without going through you. But you, Captain Eve, you don't want to lose this credit, do you?"
A woman like Eve was more of a politician, unscrupulous in achieving her goals. Dean didn't believe for a second that she had any actual principles.
As expected, hearing Dean's threat, Eve didn't hesitate for long.
「...」
Dean let out a long, satisfied breath.
He adjusted the angle of the handheld video camera to capture both the cash and Eve, striving for footage that was both artistic and damning.
With this video, if Eve ever tried to turn on him later, she would have to consider the consequences.
It was just that, while the woman wasn't bad-looking, she was too flat-chested for his taste, leaving him with little actual desire. He was really getting the short end of the stick.
Dean sighed to himself.
He just wanted to be a good person. But things had ended up like this... Sigh. It was so damn hard.