Pete was in agony. Pain exploded up his arm, white-hot and blinding.
Originally, his left hand was just broken, which wasn't a fatal injury. But in a blind panic, he slammed on the gas, and the car lurched forward—while Bella still had his hand.
Crack!
A crisp sound echoed. Pete's left arm was twisted from the elbow down into a grotesque angle, wrenched violently to the side. Bone, carrying bloody flesh, pierced through the skin, revealing a stark white jagged edge. The pain lit up every nerve in his body. He screamed repeatedly!
He felt his body was as fragile as a toy in Bella's hands.
Recalling the figure he saw jumping directly from the fifth floor, Pete knew he had messed with the wrong person today.
Enduring the immense pain in his arm, he steered with one hand, slammed the accelerator, and tore out of the street, trying to get away.
"Where are you running? I still have questions for you."
Bella leaped in pursuit. Every time her toes touched down, she shot forward more than ten meters, leaving only a blur behind her. Ten seconds later, she caught up with the frantically fleeing gray Peugeot.
Monster! Is she even human?!
Pete was scared witless. Seeing Bella running parallel to the Peugeot, tearing the car door off as easily as tearing paper, and then reaching for his neck with one hand, he was terrified. He opened the door on the other side and rolled out of the car.
So slippery, huh? Bella had missed twice in a row, which frustrated her more than she cared to admit.
Especially when she saw Pete roll out of the car but never stand up again, she could only stare, speechless.
This guy fell to his death!
Jumping out of a speeding car usually looked fine in movies—people just rolled and stood up. But in real life, you don't walk away from that. Pete had broken his neck in the fall, dead as a doornail.
Casually throwing the corpse into the back of the car, Bella drove the Peugeot back to the hotel.
Half an hour later, after some first aid, the burly man Natasha had knocked out slowly woke up. He was actually paralyzed and didn't need to be tied up. As for the other one, he was fading fast, already on the verge of dying.
"Talk. Who are you? What is your purpose?" Natasha waved her dagger in front of the burly man's eyes.
The opponent subconsciously wanted to resist, but his entire body had no sensation; he couldn't move even if he wanted to.
Panic filled his expression. He gabbled a few sentences, but neither Bella nor Natasha understood.
Malice. His malice burned like a bonfire in Bella's psychic sight.
Bella was truly curious. By comparison, even the assistant from the Stark subsidiary who tried to blow her up in the convenience store, or Alessa from Silent Hill... the malice in these people wasn't as obvious as his. Perhaps only the three vampires she met leaving Forks last year could compare to him.
What the hell were these guys trying to do?
Bella grabbed a clothes hanger from the side and whipped it across the burly man's cheek.
"Speak English!"
Natasha wasn't soft-hearted either. Seeing her usually soft-hearted "sister" seemingly very angry, she simply crossed her arms and watched from the side.
Bella whipped him forehand and backhand with the hanger. When one hanger broke, she swapped for another. She held back just enough not to kill him, laying into him again and again. After a dozen hits, she realized this guy didn't speak English.
"Then speak French!"
"You're dead! You're all dead!" The burly man, mouth full of blood and one eye nearly blind, was still unbelievably arrogant.
However, after Natasha sliced off three of his fingers and threatened to gouge out his remaining good eye, he finally became honest and revealed their purpose entirely.
By the time he finished, it wasn't just Bella—who'd been feeling that heavy malice the whole time—Natasha was furious too.
These scumbags were part of an Albanian trafficking ring. They specialized in targeting female tourists traveling to Paris. They would either lure them or forcibly kidnap them, take them to their territory, control their minds with drugs, sell the beautiful ones, and force the average ones into prostitution.
They had targeted Bella and Natasha today, intending to kidnap and traffic them. Pete, who had followed them shopping during the day, was a scout gathering intelligence.
"Hehe... hehehe. Such warm hospitality. How should I ever repay you?" Natasha laughed out of anger, her blood-stained dagger gently brushing over the burly man's face.
The burly man was terrified. These are tender, delicious lambs? These are two female assassins from somewhere, right?
They asked about the gang's location, internal structure, and armed forces.
It was ironic to say it out loud. A small gang relying on just a few hundred immigrants could actually run wild in France, doing whatever they wanted. The local authorities turned a blind eye to this. It felt like the system had long since lost its spine.
"What do we do?" Natasha asked. On major issues, she always respected Bella's opinion.
"Kill them all, of course! They are all scum. Kill one, and the world gets a little better. Kill them all! Including this guy!" Bella pointed at the now high-paraplegic burly man.
"Please! Spare me! You used your real information at the hotel! Once discovered... you won't be able to run either, right?"
For ordinary women, this would've been a nightmare. For the two of them, it was barely an inconvenience.
Worried about the hotel finding out? This hotel looked the other way when the gang came to snatch people; it wasn't a good thing either.
Natasha slipped a sedative into the receptionist's coffee and quietly put him to sleep. Then, sitting there openly, she modified their check-in records. Finally, Bella used a luggage cart to wheel the two burly men—one dead, one crippled—out of the hotel.
Both men were stuffed into the car. Natasha slit the throat of the survivor to silence him. Closing the door, the two walked toward another street.
Taking on a gang of hundreds with just handguns was asking for trouble. Bella decided to borrow some heavy weapons from Agent 006.
Bella said murderously, "I'll get the weapons; you get a car. Tonight, we wipe out this damn gang!"
Natasha nodded in agreement. She didn't dare fully trust S.H.I.E.L.D. right now; what if she got weapons there and they sold her out immediately?
Getting a car wasn't difficult for her.
Suddenly thinking of something, Bella asked, "Can you drive a tank?"
Natasha shook her head sheepishly. Sorry, haven't learned that yet!
Fifteen minutes later, the two regrouped. Bella carried a duffel bag full of firearms and ammunition.
Agent 006 had always had good relations with the French side. He didn't have heavy weapons like RPGs, Javelin anti-tank missiles, or Gatling guns in Paris, which left Bella with some regret. But a big bag of firearms was enough.
Tonight, she was going to bathe these streets in blood.