Pampered By My Three Brothers: The Return Of The Neglected Heiress - Chapter 1645

Chapter 1645: A bomb? In my house?
“Jonathan.”

Everyone’s eyes slowly dilated as they held their breath, staring at Zoren as if a thousand grim possibilities had just crossed their minds.

But amid the suffocating silence, a sudden noise snapped them back to reality.

Slowly, they turned their heads toward the sound—and there she was, slumped on the floor.

Cassandra.

She stared at them, then at Zoren, her eyes wide with shock.

Zoren arched a brow and tilted his head slightly. “What are you doing here?”

“…”

Cassandra opened and closed her mouth, her brows knitting tightly. She wanted to answer, but her voice caught in her throat. When she finally found her voice, what came out wasn’t an answer—but a trembling question.

“What… what did you do to him?”

Zoren’s expression remained cold, his eyes fixed on her like a devil from a nightmare. But when he turned back to meet his wife’s gaze, his mind involuntarily spiraled back to the events that had just unfolded.

—

Earlier…

“Now, make the call.”

Zoren nudged the phone toward Jonathan, locking eyes with him. Jonathan clenched his fists, bitterness swelling in his chest.

“Damn it,” Jonathan hissed, snatching the phone from Zoren’s hand and clicking his tongue in frustration.

At this point, Jonathan wasn’t sure if he was more angry or embarrassed at how foolish he must’ve looked. He cast Zoren a sharp glare before focusing back on the phone.

Since the device was off, he had to power it back on—and wait.

Zoren stood off to the side, his eyes cold and unblinking. But before Jonathan could do anything further, Zoren heard Mark’s urgent voice in his earpiece.

“Sir, you need to leave right now. We’re going in.”

Zoren pressed a finger against his earpiece. “What’s going on?”

Jonathan turned toward him, his brows furrowed. “What’s going on?”

Zoren ignored him and repeated, “Mark—”

“Sir!”

A loud bang cut through the tension as the door was kicked open. Mark appeared in the doorway, panting, his hand gripping the doorframe.

“We have to go! There’s a bomb in the house!” Mark yelled.

For a split second, both Zoren and Jonathan froze in wide-eyed shock.

Then Mark’s eyes shot past them. His breath hitched.

“On your back — WATCH OUT!”

Instinct took over. Zoren and Jonathan dove for cover as gunfire erupted behind them. Mark ducked behind the wall near the entrance, staying low as bullets tore through the air.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Shots shattered the windows, spraying glass where Zoren and Jonathan had been standing moments before.

Mark pressed his back to the wall outside the study, catching a few of those bullets passing through the door to the wall. His earpiece was buzzing with his team’s chatter.

“Found the shooter—he’s retreating.”

“I’m going in!”

“Captain, fifty seconds until detonation! You need to get the master out of there!”

Mark gritted his teeth. “Find the shooter—and if you do, shoot to kill!”

“Roger that.”

After a tense moment of silence, Mark took a deep breath and stepped back into the open doorway.

“Master!” he yelled.

Zoren was quick to rise. His sharp eyes landed immediately on Jonathan, who was still dazed. Without hesitation, Zoren grabbed the back of Jonathan’s collar and yanked him to his feet.

“You’re coming with me,” Zoren snapped, pulling Jonathan along.

The shock seemed to snap Jonathan out of his stupor, and he stumbled after them. Mark led the way, his rifle slung across his body as he kept his eyes and ears trained for any new threats.

When the path was clear, Mark held the door open for Zoren. Without hesitation, he moved protectively beside him, his body forming a shield. More guards were already outside, creating a tight perimeter around Zoren, Mark, and even Jonathan.

Jonathan kept his head low, trying to keep up.

‘A bomb? In my house?’ His breathing quickened, his mind racing. ‘Why would there be a bomb planted in my home?’

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a glint caught his eye.

His breath hitched. He turned his head—just in time to see a blade flashing toward him.

Time seemed to slow.

The guards were focused on getting Zoren to safety, none realizing the immediate threat. One of the bodyguards—the one right beside Jonathan—had drawn a knife and was aiming straight at him.

Shit… was the last thought Jonathan had before pain ripped through his side.

“Ugh—!” A choked breath escaped him as the knife tore into his flesh. In the chaos, with bodies pushing forward, the pain was dulled—but it was there.

The knife pulled away—only to stab him again, this time into his ribs.

“Zo—” Jonathan gasped, reaching out toward the guard on his other side. His head turned, eyes wide with disbelief, as the traitorous guard stabbed him again.

“Hey!” the other guard shouted, finally noticing. He spun around to see what was happening. “What the hell are you—”

The attacker sneered and let out a low, mocking laugh. “Hehe…”

Then, he dropped the knife and reached for his pistol.

BANG!

Before he could aim at Zoren’s back, the other guard reacted instantly, firing a shot that struck the traitor dead center in the neck.

The gunfire echoed through the compound, bringing everyone to a halt. Zoren and Mark ducked instinctively, their heads snapping toward the commotion.

When Zoren turned around, his eyes went wide.

Two bodies were on the ground.

One was the traitorous bodyguard, blood gushing from his throat.

And the other… was Jonathan.

“Hey…” Zoren rushed back, his mind blank. He crouched beside Jonathan, pressing his hand to the gaping wound at his side, but blood gushed through his fingers.

Jonathan struggled for breath, his face pale, sweat mixing with the blood that stained his shirt.

“Hey…” Zoren called again, his voice cracking. He glanced up at the other guard, a horrible realization already forming in his mind.

But before Zoren could say anything, Jonathan’s trembling hand reached out, clutching Zoren’s chest. His blood-soaked fingers gripped tightly, smearing crimson across Zoren’s clothes.

Jonathan’s breaths came shallow and fast. He forced out the last words he could muster.

“Del… Ro…”