Page 108 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

Let him feel it.

Let him understand what happens when you keep pressing my woman.

I lowered the rifle and set it carefully on the gravel rooftop.

My hands moved with practiced efficiency—detaching the scope, unscrewing the suppressor, breaking down the barrel from the receiver. Every piece went back into its designated slot in the foam-lined case.

No rush.

No panic.

Just precision.

Thirty seconds to assemble.

Thirty seconds to disassemble.

I closed the case, latched it, and stood.

The rooftop was silent except for the distant hum of traffic and the faint sound of Truth’s voice calling Kaisen’s name.

I didn’t look back at them.

I moved to the stairwell door, pulled it open, and descended the stairs two at a time, the case steady in my grip.

First floor.

The hallway was empty.

The man in the stained undershirt had his door closed now. Smart.

I pushed through the front entrance and stepped out into the sunlight.

The street was quiet. A few cars parked along the curb. An old woman watering her garden three houses down.

No one looked at me.

No one saw anything.

I crossed the street to where the Bentley sat, popped the trunk, and placed the tactical case inside. The lid closed with a soft, satisfying thunk.

I stood there for a moment, my hand resting on the trunk, and let myself breathe.

Then, I turned and walked toward Truth’s house.

My stride was calm. Unhurried.

Like I was just a man coming to visit his woman.

Truth was still on the porch, kneeling beside Kaisen, her hands pressed against his side. Blood soaked through her fingers, dark and wet.

She looked up as I approached, and the expression on her face⁠—

Horror.

Realization.

Fury.