CHAPTER 34: NO REST (3)

A desperate, powerful scream sliced through the tense silence like a gunshot.

"THEO! ABOVE YOUR HEAD, TO THE RIGHT!" Ivansia’s cry echoed from the top of the stairs.

Theo’s head snapped upward.

There, standing at the landing, was Ivansia. Her face was pale as ever, but her violet eyes now blazed with an uncanny light, as if an invisible power radiated from deep within her.

Her whole body was tense, one hand lifted, finger pointing with absolute precision. She wasn’t just shouting.

She was commanding. Her clear eyes seemed to pierce every movement of the thugs below, to read each subtle shift of their bodies, to see every hidden intention and the trajectory of every strike before it happened. She saw everything.

Some deep instinct inside Theo—a part of him that trusted Ivansia without question kicked in.

He jerked his head to the right just in time, dodging the machete that hissed through the air a hair’s breadth from his scalp.

In the same fluid instant, Ivansia’s voice rang out again. "KNIFE COMING FOR YOUR LEFT LEG! MOVE!"

Theo sprang backward, narrowly avoiding the long blade stabbing down where his thigh had been a split second before.

This wasn’t just a fight anymore, it had become a deadly dance, a symphony of combat conducted by Ivansia. She stood at the top of the stairs like a conductor, eyes sweeping the battlefield with razor-sharp focus.

"TO THE LEFT! ELBOW TO THE CHEST! THREE IN FRONT, KICK THE ONE IN THE CENTER!" she shouted.

Theo obeyed every call, each motion executed so smoothly, so perfectly timed it felt like they were reading each other’s minds.

The fierce chemistry between them was unparalleled. Ivansia, with her brilliant, almost supernatural perception, analyzed every move of their enemies, spotting every hidden threat and opportunity invisible to ordinary eyes.

And Theo, with his near-inhuman physique and fighting skill, became the extension of Ivansia’s vision. Together, they were unstoppable.

The thugs started to panic. Confusion and fear twisted their faces as they realized their strikes were being dodged with impossible precision, and each of Theo’s counters landed like a sledgehammer.

One by one, their numbers dwindled. Five of them were already sprawled on the floor, groaning in agony, unable to stand.

The remaining five exchanged glances, their faces slick with cold sweat.

They finally understood—they weren’t just fighting Theo. They were fighting Ivansia’s eyes, her mind, her perfect strategy.

There was only one way left.

"GET THE GIRL!" one of them screamed.

A furious roar rose as the five remaining thugs turned, charging the staircase where Ivansia stood like an angel of war. Machetes glinted as they raised them high; baseball bats swung threateningly.

"IVANSIA! WATCH OUT!" Theo shouted desperately, throwing himself forward, but he knew instantly he wouldn’t make it in time.

But before the first thug could reach the stairs, a figure stepped out in front of Ivansia.

It was her father. His face was tight with fear, but his eyes burned with the same fierce determination Theo had seen in Ivansia’s moments before.

He might have been a crooked businessman, a fraudster, but in that moment, he was a father.

And he would not let his daughter be harmed.

Fueled by desperate determination, Ivansia’s father swung a heavy wooden chair, smashing it across the first attacker’s head. The chair exploded into splinters, sending the thug crashing backward.

He wasn’t as strong as Theo, but he was quick and relentless. He grabbed whatever he could find a lamp, a vase and swung with reckless abandon, fighting side by side with Theo as they faced the onslaught.

Now it was two against five, with Ivansia’s father fighting like a man possessed to protect his daughter.

Above them, Ivansia’s eyes glowed brighter than ever, her voice cutting through the chaos like a bell. "LEFT SIDE, THEO! SWEEP HIS KNEE! DAD! HIT HIS BACK NOW!"

Their combined effort was overwhelming. One after another, the thugs fell, their weapons clattering uselessly to the polished floor.

Soon, the last man standing staggered back, fear etched into his wide eyes, before Theo’s punch sent him sprawling into unconsciousness.

Ten thugs. All defeated.

Theo stood in the wreckage, breathing hard. His entire body screamed in agony, every joint and muscle teetering on the brink of collapse.

Blood dripped from fresh cuts, mixing with the sweat soaking his torn clothes.

He could barely stay on his feet.

Ivansia raced down the stairs, eyes wide with terror and relief.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she reached him, flinging her arms around his battered body.

She sobbed into his chest, her trembling hands cupping his bloodied face.

"Theo! You idiot! Why... why would you do something this crazy? Look at you! You’re... you’re a mess!" she cried, her voice thick with raw, honest fear.

Her fingers brushed gingerly over his wounds, as if afraid she’d hurt him even more.

Theo gave her a weak, crooked smile, coughing softly. "I... I’m fine, Ivansia..." he rasped, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. "Don’t worry."

Seeing him still trying to reassure her, despite being so badly hurt, only made her tears flow harder. The intensity of his sacrifice overwhelmed her.

Theo looked past her, spotting Luna and Sherra who had returned to the ground floor, their faces still tense and pale from the chaos.

"Luna..." he called out weakly, barely audible over the ringing in his own ears. "My... my bag... there’s cash inside... fifty thousand dollars. For the people outside..."

Luna’s eyes flew wide open as realization struck her. She sprinted for Theo’s bag lying abandoned in a corner. Sherra followed right behind her.

They both rushed upstairs, reaching Ivansia’s balcony once more.

Luna pulled out thick stacks of cash, her face pale with shock at the sheer amount.

"EVERYONE, LISTEN!" Luna shouted at the top of her lungs, her powerful voice slicing through the dying noise of the restless mob outside.

Her shining blonde hair glinted in the torchlight below, catching every eye.

"THE MONEY IS HERE! WE WILL RETURN IT TO EACH OF YOU! EVERY SINGLE DOLLAR YOU INVESTED WILL BE PAID BACK!"

The mob fell silent, murmurs of disbelief rippling through them.

But as Luna and Sherra tossed the first handful of bills to the crowd, and people began to receive their money back, the suspicion melted into stunned gratitude.

For over an hour, Luna and Sherra oversaw the repayment, carefully distributing the money from the balcony.

Slowly but surely, the angry roars faded into murmured thanks. The mob began to disperse, one by one, clutching their refunded cash, faces softening into weary relief.

Finally, the night grew quiet once more. Luna, Ivansia, Sherra, and Ivansia’s parents let out exhausted breaths, the crushing tension that had held them hostage finally lifting.

The house was silent except for Theo’s ragged breathing as he slumped in Ivansia’s arms. She still held him tightly, her face streaked with tears, unwilling to let him go.

Ivansia’s father stepped closer, his eyes reflecting deep gratitude and newfound respect for the young man who had risked everything.

He fumbled with his phone, voice shaking. "I’ll... I’ll call a doctor. He needs help, now."

Luna turned to Sherra, her heart still racing. She thought only one thing.

I just need to wait for C to come back... and then this problem will finally end.

Wait... C! He’s still not back after an hour. I have to call him!

Frantically, Luna pulled out her phone and dialed C’s number again and again. Each ring ended in silence.

Pick up, you idiot! Pick up!

She spun to Sherra, her eyes wild with panic. "Sherra! The GPS, can we track my bike he took?!"

Sherra was startled by Luna’s sudden shout. "Y-yes, we can," she stammered, pulling out her own phone and handing it over.

Luna’s heart nearly stopped as she stared at the GPS map. The marker showed C’s location, deep within a dark forest. A cold wave of dread washed over her. She immediately called for a taxi, her mind screaming.

I’m coming, C. Please... don’t let it be too late.

---

Meanwhile, in the ominous forest shrouded in darkness and falling rain, a faceless young man leaned heavily against the massive trunk of an ancient tree, each ragged breath sounding like it might be his last.

His shirt was torn, dark stains spreading from five bullet holes—four clustered in his abdomen, one tearing through his shoulder.

It was the aftermath of a battle that had pushed him beyond his limits.

C clutched his bleeding shoulder, fingers slick with his own blood as he struggled hopelessly to stem the flow.

"Is this... the end for me?" he whispered, his voice choked with exhaustion and despair.