She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother Chapter 564: You Can’t

The young man’s index finger tightened on the trigger, taking up the slack with slow, theatrical malice, pressing the cold steel barrel deeper into Cole’s chest.

"What do you say, old man?" he whispered, his grin splitting wide. "Should I pull it? One little twitch, and I punch a hole straight through that stubborn heart of yours."

He stared intently into Cole’s face, searching for the crack.

That was what he truly wanted. Bullets were cheap; watching a proud man shatter was the real prize. He wanted to see those eyes widen in frantic, animal panic. He wanted to hear the old bastard choke on his own blood, sobbing, clawing at the dirt, and begging for just one more breath. He wanted Cole on his knees, kissing the tip of his boot, admitting that he was nothing more than an old stray who had crossed the wrong man.

He waited for the terror to surface.

But... it never came.

Lying flat on the dirt, blood smearing his cheek and dust coating his torn suit, Cole didn’t even blink. The shallow rise of his chest remained calm, his gaze entirely untroubled.

Slowly, the bloody corners of Cole’s battered lips curved into a faint, easy smile.

"You can’t."

The young man’s smirk froze. His brow furrowed, a flicker of sharp irritation cutting through his arrogance. "What?"

​Cole let out a soft chuckle. He looked straight up into the young man’s eyes, completely relaxed, without a single flicker of doubt.

​"I said you can’t pull that trigger," Cole said, his voice smooth and effortless. "You’re still too green, boy. You haven’t seen the world yet... and there are things out here you know nothing about."

The young man stared down at Cole, completely baffled. Then his face tightened, his temper snapping so hard that he actually barked out a laugh.

It was a harsh, ugly sound. He shook his head, tapping the heavy steel barrel roughly against Cole’s chest.

"I was actually going to let you live," the young man said, a nasty grin spreading across his face. "Break your legs, throw you in the dirt, let you crawl home with a lesson learned. But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You really want to die that badly."

He leaned in closer, his knuckle whitening as his finger tightened on the trigger.

"Fine by me, old man. Let’s see where that confidence comes from."

His finger curled, ready to finish the pull—

A loud, piercing ringtone suddenly shattered the silence.

The phone vibrated hard inside the young man’s jacket pocket. His finger froze against the trigger guard. An ugly scowl broke across his face, annoyed by the interruption at the exact moment of the kill.

He didn’t lift the muzzle from Cole’s chest. Instead, he glared down, his grip tightening in frustration.

Cole lay on the cold gravel, completely unbothered. The easy smile never left his face.

"Go ahead, young man," Cole murmured smoothly. "Better pick that up. It might be important."

The young man clicked his tongue in irritation.

Cursing under his breath, he rose from his crouch, keeping the gun aimed down at Cole’s chest as he reached into his jacket. He pulled out the vibrating phone and answered it without looking at the screen. His eyes stayed glued to Cole’s bloody, grinning face.

"What is it?" he snapped into the receiver. "I’m busy."

A voice spoke on the other end.

At first, the young man’s brow just furrowed with impatience. But as the words kept coming, the arrogance on his face began to crack. The annoyance turned into confusion, then sharp frustration, and finally into a dark, helpless fury.

His jaw worked, but he couldn’t get a word out. His knuckles tightened on the phone until the plastic casing creaked, his breathing turning shallow and ragged. Whatever the person on the other end was saying, it was an absolute order... one he didn’t dare disobey.

The call clicked off.

The phone slipped down from his ear, dangling loosely in his fingers. The young man stood frozen over Cole, his chest heaving, the pistol still trained squarely on the old man’s chest. He looked like someone who had just swallowed glass.

Cole lay on the crushed slate, his smile widening just a fraction.

"Didn’t I tell you?" Cole teased softly.

The words shattered the young man’s trance.

"You old bastard!"

Humiliation exploded into raw violence. The young man pulled his foot back and kicked Cole viciously in the ribs.

Cole grunted as the heavy leather boot slammed into his side, rolling him over against the shattered flower planter, but the old man didn’t cry out. He just spat another mouthful of blood into the dirt.

The young man lowered his gun, his chest pumping with unspent rage, his face flushed red. He pointed a trembling, venomous finger down at Cole.

"I’m letting you off tonight," he hissed between clenched teeth. "But if you ever come near her again, I don’t care who you are... no one in this world will be able to save you."

He shoved the pistol back into his holster, turned on his heel, and didn’t look back.

"Let’s go!" he barked at the rest of the crew.

The other men turned to follow, casting dark, venomous glares at the two left behind on the terrace. The hitman with the shattered knee groaned with every step, leaning his entire dead weight against one of his partners as they dragged him toward the stairs.

Within moments, the heavy crunch of their footsteps faded down the path, swallowed by the night wind.

As silence settled over the terrace, Karl slumped back against the cold stone balustrade.

A long, shuddering breath tore from his chest.

His trembling hands fell limp against his lap, the suffocating dread finally draining from his veins. He closed his eyes against the stinging cold, his entire body aching, but inside he felt hollow with disbelief. He had stared straight into his own grave tonight. He had genuinely believed he was done for.

From the shadows of the stone trellis, Naomi finally exhaled the breath she had been holding for minutes. The moment the hitmen cleared the gates, she couldn’t stay hidden any longer.

She broke into a sprint across the wet slate, her boots splashing through the dark puddles. Alex stepped out behind her, following at a calm, unhurried pace, his hands in his pockets as he watched the scene unfold.

"Karl!"

Naomi dropped to her knees in the dirt, her hands frantic and trembling as she reached for him. She cupped his bruised jaw, checking the deep cuts on his knuckles, the bloody gash along his temple, her eyes wide with panic. "Karl, look at me! Are you alright? Where are you hit? Talk to me!"

Karl let out a raspy groan, leaning his head gently into her touch and managing a faint, tired smile. "I’m... in one piece, Naomi. I’m okay."

"He’ll live," a dry, calm voice chimed in from the gravel nearby.

Cole slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position against the broken planter, casually brushing bits of crushed stone from his torn lapel. He was covered in dirt, his tailored suit completely ruined and his lip bleeding, yet his breathing was even and relaxed.

"Just bruised pride and a couple of loose teeth," Cole murmured with a faint chuckle. "A good night’s rest, and he’ll be fine by tomorrow."

Naomi stared at the old man in pure disbelief, but before she could say a word, a shadow fell over them.

Alex stopped right in front of Cole.

He looked down at the battered old tycoon... the bloody face, the ruined jacket, and the completely unbothered, amused glint in Cole’s eyes. Alex couldn’t help it; the corner of his mouth curved into a warm, knowing grin.

He reached down, extending an open hand to the old man sitting in the dirt.

"Nice to meet you, old man," Alex said smoothly. "I’m Alexander Hale."

Cole didn’t rush to take the hand.

Sitting in the crushed gravel, his sharp, weathered eyes swept over Alex... taking in the easy posture, the utter lack of fear, and the calm, measuring confidence behind his gaze. In a world full of rash hotheads like the boy who had just left, Alex stood out like a quiet predator.

A glint of genuine appreciation flickered in Cole’s eyes. Reaching up, he clasped Alex’s hand with a grip that was shockingly firm and steady.

"The pleasure is mine, young man," Cole said, his voice laced with an easy chuckle. "Though I must admit, I never intended our first meeting to show you such an unseemly side of me."

Alex let out a low chuckle, his fingers locking firmly around Cole’s.

​"Don’t sell yourself short, old man," Alex replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I think I’ve seen about three or four different sides of you tonight... and not a single one was boring."

​With a steady, effortless pull, Alex hauled Cole up onto his feet.