Chapter 143: Chapter 99: Brother, Merry Christmas

Kevin moved.

His hand never left his pocket. His finger was already on the trigger. He didn’t even need to draw his gun, didn’t need to aim.

"BANG! BANG! BANG!"

Without a single word, Kevin frantically pulled the trigger through the pocket of his down jacket, firing at the figure in front of him.

The down jacket burst open in a cloud of cotton, the muzzle flash instantly scorching the fabric.

The savage grin hadn’t even faded from the burly man’s face when three blossoms of blood burst from his chest. His eyes widened in disbelief, and the gun he was about to fire slipped weakly from his hand.

"Fack! This kid’s a psycho!"

His two accomplices were stunned. They thought a kid like him would know when to back down when threatened by three men, but they’d run into a maniac who valued money over his own life.

"Die! Just die!"

With bloodshot eyes, Kevin pulled the gun from his scorched pocket and started firing wildly at the remaining men. Bullets struck the brick wall, sending sparks flying.

They were just a couple of punks who preyed on the weak and feared the strong. Seeing their boss dead, they let out a terrified shriek and scrambled away, disappearing into the snowstorm.

"HUFF... HUFF..."

Kevin gasped for breath, his whole body trembling.

He glanced at the body on the ground, patted down its pockets with a trembling hand, then quickly turned and vanished into the darkness.

「Twenty minutes later.」

"Boss!" Kevin handed over the bag. "It’s all here!"

"What happened to you?" Scarface pointed to the tear in Kevin’s down jacket. "Get into a firefight?"

"A few idiots just tried to double-cross me. They even had guns," Kevin said rapidly. "But I took out their leader! Not a single cent is missing!"

By a bonfire in a trash can, Scarface stood in the shadows, a cigarette held between his fingers.

He didn’t immediately reach for the bag. Instead, he stared intently at Kevin.

"Took him out?" Scarface’s voice betrayed no emotion. "With the gun I gave you?"

"Yeah!" Kevin patted his waist. "Good thing I had it."

"Give me the gun," Scarface said, holding out a hand, his tone calm. "It’s been used in a killing. It’s dirty now, can’t be kept. I’ll have someone get rid of it."

Kevin hesitated for a moment but obediently took out the pistol, muzzle pointing down, and handed it to Scarface.

Scarface took the gun, skillfully ejected the magazine, checked it, then reloaded it and racked the slide to chamber a round.

Kevin was staring eagerly at the bag of money, waiting for Scarface to divvy up the cash.

"Boss, about the money... according to the rules, the extra amount..."

Kevin looked up and met Scarface’s eyes, which were as cold as if he were staring at a dead man.

A primal fear exploded inside him. Just as Kevin started to back away—

"BANG!"

A muffled gunshot echoed across the snow-covered ground.

Kevin felt as if he’d been kicked hard in the stomach. He was thrown backward, slamming hard against a graffiti-covered wall before sliding down to its base.

He clutched his stomach as warm blood instantly soaked through his fingers, blooming like a tragic, beautiful flower on the snow.

"Wh... Why?"

Kevin’s eyes were wide, his face contorted in agony as he let out a cry of pain. "I... I brought all the money back... I even earned extra..."

"But you jacked up the price on your own, didn’t you?" Scarface said, lowering the gun, his expression flat. "You idiot."

"I... I just wanted to make a little extra... for my brother’s school..." Kevin felt his body temperature fading as bloody foam frothed at the corners of his mouth. "Boss... I was wrong... I’ll give you all the money, all of it..."

"What do you think this is? A game?"

But Scarface showed no mercy.

"Because you jacked up the price to an astronomical level, the junkies on this street have been robbing, smashing cars, and stealing like crazy these past few days to get money for your stuff," he said, his voice colder than the winter wind. "Just a little while ago, two addicts stabbed a tourist to death just to rob them of 50 USD."

"That’s why the cops have been watching this place like rabid dogs! It was you! You muddied the waters for the entire market just for your own paltry profit! Now all the customers on the street have been scared off, the cops are about to sweep the area, and my entire business is ruined!"

Scarface raised his gun, the dark, gaping barrel aimed squarely between Kevin’s eyes.

"You’re not just a greedy idiot, you’re a traitor who sells out his own. You broke the rules, Kevin. I fucking told you to raise the price a little, and you didn’t listen to a damn word."

"In your next life, try not to be so greedy."

Scarface’s finger slowly squeezed the trigger.

However, in that exact instant.

A desperate ferocity suddenly burst forth in the eyes of Kevin, who had been curled up on the ground from the gut shot, looking half-dead.

"Go to hell! Fack!!!"

Kevin suddenly yanked the rusty revolver he’d kept hidden from an inner pocket—it was the gun he had taken from the thugs when he first saved Michael, and he had carried it with him ever since.

A revolver doesn’t jam. He had been holding an ace up his sleeve.

Scarface’s pupils contracted violently. He never expected the kid to be holding something back.

"BANG! BANG!"

Two crisp gunshots rang out.

At such close range, Kevin didn’t need to aim.

The bullets drilled precisely into Scarface’s neck and stomach.

An arrow of blood spurted out. Scarface clutched his neck, the Glock in his hand falling to the ground. A hoarse, gurgling sound, like air from a bellows, escaped his throat. He stared at Kevin in disbelief, swayed, and finally collapsed into the snow like a dead tree.