The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 922

By then, the heavy security door slammed against the floor with a final, resonant clang, completely sealing their exit.

A brief, suffocating silence descended over the hall, broken only by the mercenaries’ steady breathing and the sound of slow, patronizing applause echoing from the speaker.

Clap... clap... clap...

"Beautiful. Truly beautiful reflexes," the distorted voice drawled. "But I’m not quite done yet."

"You have two choices. Option one: drop your weapons, surrender to my men, and I guarantee Payton's temporary safety. Option two: keep fighting, and watch the people you care about be extinguished, one by one, right in front of your eyes."

The mercenaries resumed their advance.

Leilani pinched a silver needle tightly between her fingers, her knuckles turning white.

Sensing her rigid posture, Callahan leaned in slightly. "Trust me?" he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

She glanced up, meeting his gaze. His eyes held an unwavering resolve—a reckless determination to burn it all down if he had to.

Taking a deep breath, she gave him a firm nod.

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of Callahan's mouth. He raised his voice, shouting into the open room. "Still hiding in the shadows like a coward? Is this the extent of your power? Relying on hostages and threats?"

As he spoke, he kept his hands casually behind his back, flashing a quick, tactical hand sign to Abel and Leilani.

Abel’s eyes narrowed slightly in understanding, giving a barely perceptible nod.

Leilani caught it instantly, her gaze sweeping the room like a hawk, pinpointing the likely locations of the speakers, cameras, and wiring.

The voice on the intercom paused for a few seconds, clearly not expecting such brazen defiance. When the laugh returned, it was sharper, more twisted. "Excellent... Callahan, you never disappoint."

"Leilani, watch out!"

Callahan barked the warning as he threw up his forearm, taking the brutal impact of a steel baton. The shockwave left his arm numb, but he held his ground.

However, Leilani was already moving before he even issued the warning.

With feline grace, she twisted her torso, narrowly dodging a thrust from another attacker's combat knife. Her movements were fluid and entirely devoid of panic. In the same breath, her right hand dipped into the unassuming canvas pouch strapped to her hip.

Thwip!

"Agh!" The lead mercenary let out a bloodcurdling scream, dropping his weapon with a loud clatter. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his right wrist.

In the dim moonlight, three incredibly fine silver needles could be seen embedded deeply into his joint, trembling slightly.