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When they reached the yard, Bede stopped walking and looked at the detached villa in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” Piaget asked.
Bede raised a hand and waved it beneath his nose, then said, “I smell something that makes me feel a little uncomfortable.”
“Hm?” Piaget sniffed. “I don’t smell anything. Do you have some kind of allergy?”
Bede shook his head. His gaze swept over the villa again, especially the windows on each floor.
When someone of his status went out, it was either with great fanfare, surrounded by a full bodyguard detail, or done quietly with his trail concealed. It was not that it was absolutely impossible to run into an assassination attempt from hostile forces, but at the very least, the probability would be reduced to very low.
Yet the feeling now was different. Bede glanced at Piaget once more. Had he betrayed him? It did not seem so. Then what was it?
Bang!
At that moment, the front door on the first floor opened, and Gerson walked out.
The next instant, the windows on the first and second floors shattered as six Raphael family bodyguards in black suits charged out.
There were no greetings, no pleasantries, no introductions. Bede was merely standing in the yard, and he looked as though he did not intend to walk any farther inside. If Gerson had chosen this moment to say something like, “What a coincidence, Mr. Bede, meeting you here,” he likely would not have finished the sentence before Bede retreated into the car.
Among the six bodyguards behind Gerson, the skin of two turned to stone. They sprinted straight forward. Their weight seemed altered, as each footstep stomping a deep imprint into the garden soil.
Two more had...
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