Too Late to Hold Me Back novel Chapter 846

"Equity transfer documents for The Larsen Grand!" Hank's eyes widened in utter disbelief.

He looked at them with pure envy. "Incredible, man. You two are actually shareholders in this hotel now?"

"Technically, Mira is the shareholder now. Not me," Owen corrected with a helpless sigh.

"Isn't it the same thing?"

"How is it the same? I'm going to have to work twice as hard now, otherwise everyone's going to call me a kept man."

"Are you saying you're not?" Hank teased.

"Give me a break. I haven't leeched off her once, I swear. I've been neglecting my own company while Mira works me to the bone like a pack mule," Owen said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Hank chuckled. "Is that right? It's tough having such a brilliant partner, huh?"

Owen was about to nod in agreement when Hank added, "Want me to take on some of that burden for you?"

"In your dreams!" Owen snapped, his fists clenching instantly.

"You two can joke all you want, but leave me out of it!" Mira hissed through gritted teeth.

Both men immediately clamped their mouths shut, too terrified to utter another word.

Hank glanced back and saw the server turning to leave. He quickly grabbed the man's arm. "Are you guys still selling equity? I want in."

Mira smirked. "We paid a hundred million for a one-percent stake. You still want in?"

"Hell yes. I'd pay two hundred million for it without blinking."

It was clear that shares in The Larsen Grand were worth their weight in gold.

The server just shook his head firmly. Money alone couldn't buy a stake in this hotel.

Finally, Owen intervened. "Let it go, man. They're not selling anymore."

"Then how did you guys get it?" Hank demanded, staring at Owen.

"Ah!" someone cried out, nearly tumbling to the ground.

Jax Weaver lunged forward to grab the assailant. His fingers barely brushed the attacker's clothes before the person twisted away.

Owen followed up with a vicious kick of his own, but the assassin shoved a bystander into his path and instantly vanished into the dense crowd.

"What is wrong with people?! You knock someone over and just run off?!" the person on the floor yelled in outrage.

It was impossible to give chase. The airport was suffocatingly crowded and chaotic, and their security detail was too stretched thin to break formation.

Though it sounded like a prolonged struggle, the entire clash had unfolded in a fraction of a second.

Owen yanked Mira into his arms and refused to let go, his heart pounding with cold, lingering terror.

Mira plucked the tiny needle from the stranger's backpack and held it up for Owen to see. "Look. It's a Ghost-Needle. That was a top-tier assassin."

A Ghost-Needle looked like a long sewing needle, but it was exponentially thinner—as fine as a strand of hair. It was nearly invisible to the untrained eye, yet it was one of the most lethal assassination weapons in existence.