Enemy Attack

Inside an interrogation room at the New York Police Department, a tall Black man sat in an interrogation chair, wearing handcuffs and leg irons.

Across from him, Police Chief George Stacy, dressed in a suit, sat with a stern expression.

"Who put you up to this? And where did your accomplices go? You'd better come clean, or things won't end well for you."

The Black man gave a cold laugh. "Chief, I already told you. I just decided on the spur of the moment to rob them. Who knew they wouldn't hand over the money? Then my accomplice accidentally fired his gun and killed them. That's the whole story. No one told us to do it."

"Motherfucker, do you think we cops are idiots? You think I'll believe that bullshit?" George roared furiously.

"Believe it or not, that's all I know!" After saying that, the Black man shut down completely and refused to utter another word.

Outside the interrogation room, Loren watched the surveillance monitor quietly, a bloodthirsty smile appearing on his face.

He knew all too well how to interrogate criminals.

Of course, his methods of interrogation were not suitable for outsiders to witness. They were simply too cruel and bloody.

So, he rose and said to the several New York City officials behind him, "Turn off all the surveillance cameras in the interrogation room. I'll interrogate him personally!"

The officials exchanged glances before replying with flattering smiles, "Young Master Loren, how could such a trivial matter possibly require you to get involved personally? It would be beneath your status. Let our people handle it! We'll definitely make him reveal the truth."

As one of the foremost families among America's ten great financial dynasties, the Morgan Family's power was so immense that saying they could cover the sky with one hand would not be an exaggeration.

Not to mention that a few New York City officials had to curry favor with him, the Morgan Family's first heir.

Even members of Congress, or even the person in the White House, had to act according to his mood.

Because in a highly capitalized country like this beautiful nation, so-called lawmakers and high-ranking officials—even the president—were nothing more than puppets of the great financial dynasties.

The people who truly controlled the lifeblood of the entire country had never been presidents.

They were these financial tycoons lurking behind the scenes. That was an indisputable fact.

This alone showed just how noble his current status was.

But precisely because of that, he cared even more about the truth behind this matter.

Anyone daring to strike at a financial dynasty that controlled the nation's lifeblood was clearly no small player.

Therefore, this matter was absolutely not as simple as the Black man claimed. Behind it, there had to be an invisible hand manipulating everything.

What he needed to do now was drag that invisible hand out, then cut it off completely.

Only then could he live peacefully in the future. Otherwise, it would remain like a thorn in his throat, with a sword forever hanging over his head. That was not what he wanted.

"There are some things I can only trust myself to do."

Loren ignored the officials' flattery and headed toward the interrogation room.

But at that moment, the entire police department suddenly lost power.

The screens that had been displaying footage immediately went black.

Seeing this, Loren instinctively became alert.

Then, a burst of intense gunfire suddenly rang out.

Before Loren could figure out what was happening, the wall of the room he was in was blasted through by a shell.

A terrifying shockwave instantly swept through the room like raging waves.

In an instant, it sent several people standing nearby flying.

But at that critical moment, 2B stepped in front of Loren first.

Using her body of steel, she forcibly withstood the shell's blast, sparing Loren the same miserable fate as the others.

Even so, shrapnel from the explosion cut his face, and a streak of blood dripped down.

He touched his injured cheek, and towering fury erupted from Loren's eyes.

"Boss, are you all right?" After blocking the blast wave, 2B immediately turned to Loren behind her and asked with concern.

"I'm fine. Not dead yet."

"Watch out!!!"

Just as Loren spoke, several men in black carrying submachine guns suddenly rushed in through the hole in the wall.

Without distinguishing friend from foe, they opened fire on the survivors in the room, clearly intending to leave no one alive.

Loren rolled across the ground and ducked behind a wall, narrowly avoiding the gunmen's attacks.

At the same time, he gave 2B an enraged order. "Wipe out every last one of these bastards."

"Yes!" Upon receiving the order, 2B moved like a cheetah, crossing the distance in a single stride and appearing before one of the gunmen.

When the man in black saw a stunningly beautiful woman suddenly appear before him, obvious astonishment flashed through his eyes.

But in the next instant, he aimed his gun at 2B. Before he could fire, however, 2B had already seized him by the throat.

Then she twisted violently. With a sharp crack, darkness swallowed his vision.

Seeing a woman suddenly emerge, the other men in black all aimed their guns at 2B, intending to turn her into a sieve.

But 2B had already taken a pistol from the man she killed, and her reaction speed was clearly beyond anything a human could match.

Thus, before they could fire, 2B had already fired first.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

After several gunshots, several more corpses in black lay on the floor.

Each of them had a bullet hole in the head. Every one of them had been killed with a single shot.

This showed just how accurate 2B's marksmanship was.

In mere moments, 2B had sent every man in black who had broken into the room straight to hell.

"Boss, mission complete. The enemies have been eliminated."

After carefully checking the surroundings and confirming that it was safe, 2B approached Loren to report.

"Very good!" Loren nodded, adjusted his suit, and walked out with a calm expression.

The room was already a complete mess, with more than a dozen bodies strewn across the floor.

Aside from the men in black, several of the officials who had been flattering him moments earlier had also died.

But Loren did not care about that. What concerned him more was the condition of the Black man in the interrogation room.

Just then, Chief George Stacy, a trace of blood on his face and a grim expression, walked over from the direction of the interrogation room.

"Mr. Loren, the suspect is dead!"