Chapter 441

Lyle was getting frustrated. He couldn't find Michael and Isabella anywhere and figured they must've taken off in another direction. So, he and his crew split up again to search for any signs of them. Lyle was sure they'd find them eventually, given their numbers and the dragnet search they were doing.

Meanwhile, the two bodies on the ground suddenly opened their eyes and scanned the area. It was Michael and Isabella. They had swapped into the enemy's clothes and played dead, successfully tricking their pursuers.

"Sweetie, this trick is working like a charm. We can keep this up a bit longer," Isabella said with a grin.

Michael put a finger to his lips. "Shh, honey. Dead people don't talk."

Isabella rolled her eyes but stayed still.

Just then, they heard footsteps. Isabella and Michael quickly shut their eyes, pretending to be dead again.

"Everyone else is out searching. Are we really gonna slack off now?" one thug with a gun asked nervously.

His buddy gave him an annoyed look. "Chill out. There's a ton of people looking for them. They won't miss us. If they find them, they'll call us on the walkie-talkie, and we can join in."

The thug pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one for himself, and handed one to his friend.

The two thugs leaned against the wall, puffing away.

As they enjoyed their smoke break, their eyes wandered and landed on the two bodies on the ground. These guys were more like thugs than soldiers, so they didn't care about their fallen comrades and started making fun of the bodies.

"Hey, check out that one on the ground. Nice butt! He'd be a hit in prison," one thug laughed.

Isabella's brow twitched in annoyance. These jerks were commenting on her figure.

Michael was fuming. No guy likes hearing other men talk about his wife like that.

Then, Michael felt a kick on his butt, making him flinch.

"You're right, man, that butt is pretty perky," the other thug laughed.

Michael's face darkened, while Isabella had to stifle a laugh. Turns out, they were talking about Michael's butt.

Suddenly, one of the thugs noticed something white in the corner of the stairs.

"Hey, is there something over there?" one thug nudged the other.

They exchanged glances, raised their guns, and slowly approached the corner.

It was a spot covered with bricks and tattered cloth, and it looked like there was a hand sticking out from under the cloth.

The thugs lifted the cloth, sending stones and bricks scattering. Underneath were two dead bodies with gunshot wounds.

The thugs were startled, not sure what to make of it.

But then, one of the thugs had a lightbulb moment and shouted, "I get it! They took our clothes and blended in with our group. Damn it, I need to warn Mr. Warner!"

As he reached for his walkie-talkie, two gunshots echoed, and the thugs dropped to the ground, their heads blown open.

Michael stood behind them, gun in hand, the barrel still smoking.

He turned to Isabella and said, "The gunshots will bring them here. Our disguise won't hold up much longer."

"What do we do now?" Isabella asked, her voice shaky.

Michael pointed to the walkie-talkie on the thug's chest. "We can listen in on their commands. It might give us an edge."

He grabbed Isabella's hand, and they took off running again.

Soon, more thugs arrived at the scene. With no time to spare, they couldn't bother disguising the two naked bodies.

Lyle stood over the four bodies, his face dark with anger. "Those two were lying right here, pretending to be dead in our clothes! They were right under our noses!"

The others looked at the stripped bodies and their dead companions, their faces grim. They'd been played.

"Mr. Warner, what now?" one thug asked.

Lyle's eyes narrowed. "They've got our walkie-talkie. We can't trust our commands are secure. We need to fix this."

He grabbed the walkie-talkie and barked, "Everyone, form groups of three or four. Take off your masks or face coverings. If you don't recognize someone's face, feel their chest and crotch. You'll know the difference."

All the thugs who heard the instructions removed their face masks. When forming teams, they cautiously pointed their guns at each other, then carefully felt the other person's chest and crotch.

Since all the pursuers were men, it would be obvious if a woman tried to infiltrate their group.

Michael and Isabella heard the instructions on the walkie-talkie. Isabella looked at Michael, her face pale. "Darling, you go ahead. At least you'll be safe."

Michael rolled his eyes. "And leave you behind? Should I just watch you get killed?"

Isabella tightened her grip on her gun, her voice firm despite the fear creeping in. "If it comes to that, I'll take my own life. I won't let them capture me and endure their torture."

Michael pulled her into a tight hug. "No way, darling. I won't live without you. If we die, we die together."

There was a fierce determination in Michael's eyes. He'd rather die than let Isabella be captured alone.

Just then, screams echoed through the air. Then a voice called out, "Mr. Williams, Mrs. Williams, where are you? We're here to rescue you!"