One of the guards barked an order, "Take him!" and they dragged Rayven away from Lucas's reach.
Lucas's vision wavered, but his rage propelled him forward. His wounds screamed in protest, but he refused to relent.
"We can't risk confrontation with the other entourage heading this way!" shouted the other guard, panic edging his voice.
As they pulled Rayven to safety, Lucas felt his strength ebbing, his knees buckling under the weight of his injuries.
But even as he fell, his eyes remained locked on Rayven, a silent vow of vengeance burning within them.
The guards handcuffed Lucas, dragging him into a different vehicle.
His eyes, still burning with rage, flickered to the sniper's hideout one last time, blood dripping into his gaze.
He had given strict orders to the sniper— the truth about the ambush must remain hidden.