Assassination Squad

Watching Dragan's incessant trembling, the man before him asked in a gentle, soft tone.

"It seems your relationship with your nephew isn't quite as good as you claimed?"

At these words, Dragan shook his head frantically, his face twisted into a sycophantic smile he didn't even realize he was wearing.

"He's just a kid, what does he know? Next time! I'll definitely be able to convince him next time."

Listening to the man's contradictory babbling, Wesley merely shook his head calmly.

If this guy, whose brain had already been fried by drugs, didn't still have some utility, he wouldn't have wasted a single word on him.

Well, in truth, he didn't want to waste any more breath now, either.

Casually pushing the car door open, Wesley signaled to the two suit-clad subordinates standing guard outside.

"Take him down, and don't let him run off!"

Hearing this, Dragan seemed to realize something, his mind clearing up significantly. As he struggled to break free from the men in black dragging him away, he clawed at the car door and begged loudly.

"Wesley!! Believe me, give me one more chance! I can definitely convince that kid!"

"As soon as I take over the company, I'll definitely pay back the money I owe you!"

"Double! No, triple! I'll pay you back triple!"

However, Wesley ignored Dragan's pleas entirely. After his gaze swept over the large wet patch on the man's trousers, he added with a hint of disgust, "Get this guy a change of pants and clean him up!"

With that, he stopped paying attention to the trembling Dragan being hauled away from the vehicle. He pulled out a handkerchief to cover his nose and dialed a number.

"Boss!"

"How did it go?"

On the other end of the line was a man with a very deep voice.

Wesley subconsciously lowered his handkerchief, straightened his collar, and sat up straight before answering respectfully.

"Dragan messed up, and we lost one man. But we didn't leave the body behind, so there shouldn't be any traces leading back to us for now."

The person on the other end remained silent. Wesley hesitated for a moment before adding, "I'll go meet with his mother's attending physician next. I'll have them delay the medical report and suggest that her condition might be improving; that should delay the inheritance process and the board meeting."

This time, the man on the phone finally spoke again, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"Do as you see fit."

After a brief pause, he added a final instruction.

"I've received word that someone on the Upper East Side has already reached an agreement with the government to participate in the recovery of alien wreckage."

"Policies could change at any moment; we must get things settled here in Midtown as soon as possible."

Listening to the dial tone from the other end, Wesley finally let out a soft breath.

He wiped the phone screen clean and tucked it into his pocket.

Then, glancing at the seat where Dragan had been sitting, he frowned and ordered coldly, "Go to the car wash!"

The car started and pulled smoothly away into the distance.

Elsewhere, inside another vehicle, Luca was listening to Shamira's report.

"It seems my uncle really did find himself a capable backer?"

Fiddling with the mechanical prosthetic he had just replaced, Luca pondered the encounter Shamira had described.

"Young Master Luca, the fact that they deployed six gunmen at once clearly indicates an organized group."

"I suggest that while we investigate who Dragan has been in contact with recently, we should also strengthen your security team."

Although Shamira believed that if it came to a firefight, she could easily handle those six enemies—or even twice that number—on her own, killing enemies and protecting her charge were two different things. Furthermore, she couldn't guarantee she would always be by Luca's side.

Now that they knew someone was watching from the shadows, they had to make preparations in advance.

Luca had no objections to this; he didn't harbor the delusion that a few special items were enough to handle every crisis. In times like these, expanding his security team was undoubtedly a wise choice.

The only problem was that it was currently difficult for Luca to mobilize the company's security forces.

"Aunt Shamira, do you have anyone suitable to recommend?"

In truth, Luca was thinking of spending some money to hire a suitable security firm for temporary use.

Even though he couldn't touch the company's funds, there were plenty of other assets in the family's various investment funds.

To his surprise, upon hearing this, Shamira hesitated slightly before whispering, "Actually..."

Seeing her stammering, Luca felt a flicker of curiosity, but he gestured for her to continue.

"Actually, the Madam still has a private combat squad under her command. They aren't many in number, but they are all elites."

Watching Luca's puzzled expression in the rearview mirror, she continued her explanation.

"This squad is nominally the company's weapons testing personnel, and they usually take on odd mercenary jobs overseas."

"Nominally?" Shamira's phrasing immediately piqued Luca's curiosity.

"Yes, it's primarily to make it easier for them to acquire equipment and carry out operations."

"Hmm... In fact, under normal circumstances, whenever there are matters that are... inconvenient for the Madam to resolve, they are the ones sent to handle them."

"Hiss..."

Although Shamira spoke quite vaguely, Luca had already grasped her meaning.

Good grief! An assassination squad? Is corporate warfare among arms dealers really this visceral?!

He hadn't expected that his mother—the gentle, considerate woman at home and the formidable career woman outside in the original owner's memories—actually possessed such a force in the shadows.

However, upon second thought regarding the modus operandi of American capital, Luca felt that perhaps he was just being too naive.

"Are these people trustworthy?"

Well, he knew the question was somewhat redundant.

For those working in the shadows for the Orange family, trustworthiness should be the most basic requirement.

It was just that the current situation was special; regardless of his own age or his level of familiarity with this squad, Luca had to bring these matters into the light and re-verify them to be at ease.

If they looked down on him as the young master or harbored any ulterior motives, then summoning them to protect him would undoubtedly be inviting a wolf into the house.

However, upon hearing this, Shamira spoke with a firm tone.

"Please rest assured, Young Master! Every member of this squad is a veteran who came down from the battlefields of Sokovia!"

Hearing the name Sokovia, Luca felt significantly more at ease.

As for why soldiers from Sokovia were considered trustworthy, that required looking into the origins of the Orange family.

Neither of Luca's parents could be considered traditional, old-stock Americans.

According to what Shamira had said over the past few days, combined with the fragmented information from the original owner's memories, the picture was clear.

Luca's father, the late Herman von, had a relatively simple background; he was of mixed Chinese and Italian descent, with both parents being immigrants from previous generations.

In more traditional terms, Herman had married into the Orange family.

In contrast, the situation of his mother, Gina Orange, was somewhat more complex.