The Heiress Spoiled by Four Brothers and One Devilish CEO-Chapter 128 That Guy in The Baseball Cap

The neon-lit night stretched on, scattered stars peeking out playfully, as if they were trying to sneak a look at the world’s hidden stories.

A cool breeze slipped through the car window, teasing the man’s bangs into a messy but effortlessly cool look.

On the way back to Dreamscape Manor, Megan still hadn’t given up on following Tristan. She insisted on tagging along.

To calm her down, Tristan asked her to head back and keep an eye on Cloud Robinson. That finally did the trick.

But what a surprise—she found something big.

A box that was supposed to be light suddenly felt much heavier. That alone screamed suspicious.

As flashing police cars zipped past them, Tristan gestured for Cameron to back off.

"Megan, got the surveillance footage saved?"

Lying on the bed, eyes glued to the screen, Megan grinned. "Relax, I’ve already encrypted it and sent it to the police station. But hey, that guy in the black hoodie... he looks familiar!"

"Familiar?" Tristan repeated.

Megan frowned. "Yeah, he looks just like that guy in the baseball cap we saw at Riverside Hospital before!"

"Stop the car," Tristan suddenly barked.

Cameron slammed the brakes and glanced in the rear-view mirror. "What’s going on, boss?"

They just happened to have pulled up right outside the hotel.

About twenty cops were charging into the building, and the whole hotel went into lockdown.

"The guy in the hoodie made it to the first floor with the box... wait—crap, the power just went out."

The place, once lit up like daytime, instantly darkened. It felt totally out of place in the city’s glitzy nightlife.

Tristan narrowed his eyes. "Is there a backup power supply?"

"Nope, all systems are down. Looks like the guy came prepared."

Tristan thought for a beat. "Can you pull up the hotel’s layout?"

"Give me a sec." Megan’s fingers flew across the keyboard. "Got it. Sent it to your phone."

Tristan opened the file. "No way he can get out with that box. All the rooms are too easy to check. My guess is... he’ll stash it somewhere like a storage room, the kitchen, or the freezer. Cameron, give Ryan a call. Let him know what we’ve figured out."

Thirty minutes earlier—

Ryan had just escorted Jonathan, boss of Siren’s Call, back to the station when he got another voice-masked anonymous call reporting a murder at the Verve Hotel.

It was the same kind of call as before, no time to hesitate—he went straight to the hotel with a team.

Not long after they stormed in, the whole place went dark.

Years of experience told him—something bad had gone down.

He drew his sidearm and ordered his team to cover all exits. At the same time, he requested backup.

Around the hotel, a few men in black were lying low, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Tristan’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the car window, his deep gaze never leaving the hotel entrance, which remained eerily still.

Megan yawned but stayed focused on the multiple feeds flashing across her screen.

All angles showed the streets near the hotel.

"I see movement around the area. Are those your people?"

Tristan gave a soft grunt in reply. "Turn the place upside down if you have to. I want him caught."

The hotel had fallen into complete silence.

Ryan and five cops were guarding the rear exit. They were communicating through discreet earpieces.

"Team One, report."

"We’re at the suspect’s room door."

"Team Two, status?"

"Online."

...

"Team Four, do you copy?"

Silence. Not a word back."Team 4?"

Ryan quickly posted three officers at the back door, then took two more with him to check out the side entrance where Team 4 was stationed.

Barely two minutes after they left, the three officers at the back were silently taken out—all three with their necks snapped before they could react. Their service pistols disappeared without a trace.

A figure slipped out the back, now wearing a gray hoodie and cap.

Megan’s eyes snapped to the screen. "Someone just came out the back door. Gray hooded jacket."

"Wipe all street cam footage from the moment we arrived here," Tristan instructed without missing a beat. Then he turned to Cameron. "Back door—gray hoodie."

Cameron relayed the order instantly, and in the blink of an eye, several men in black swarmed the alley, encircling the suspect in gray.

The guy’s eyes narrowed—sharp and hostile. He yanked out a gun and fired.

The men in black fired back.

Gunshots cracked through the night air like firecrackers. Several black-clad figures fell. The man in gray was hit in the arm and leg but kept shooting as he ran.

A blinding beam of light slammed into him, flinging his body several meters across the ground. His pistol skittered away, landing just a few feet from his outstretched hand.

He lay there, chest heaving weakly, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. He tried to move, but his body just wasn’t answering.

A car door opened. A polished pair of handmade leather shoes touched down.

Tristan strode over, towering above the man. The corner of his mouth lifted coldly. "Trying to die, huh? Doesn’t look like it’s working."

As the man struggled to reach toward his chest, Tristan’s smile vanished. He raised his foot and stomped down hard on the guy’s arm.

A sickening crack echoed. The guy grunted in pain.

Cameron crouched down, lifting the man’s jacket. With a slim detection probe in hand, he scanned the guy’s chest.

A steady beeping started from under the left rib—an iridescent chip glowing faintly.

Cameron jabbed the probe in with pinpoint precision, sending a micro-laser through specific lines of the chip’s surface.

He stood and faced Tristan. "Boss, the self-destruct chip’s disabled."

The man glared at Cameron, face twisted in rage. Cameron noticed his cheeks puff up—he realized what he was trying to do.

He lunged and jammed the tip of his shoe into the man’s mouth, stopping him cold.

The man stared daggers at him.

Cameron shrugged and pushed the shoe in a bit more before yanking his foot out of it, leaving the shoe behind. "Man, if you’re that into my shoes, you can have that one."

The suspect’s eyes began to lose focus. He slowly passed out.

Cameron grimaced. "No way... I swear I wash my feet daily."

Tristan gave him a sidelong glance. "Give him a strong sedative and take him to the Prestige. Lock him down—tight. All injured guards, send them to Max Adams, now."

With that, he marched off toward the main road. Mr. Brown was already waiting by the car.

Cameron gave a short nod, hopping toward the car with one socked foot. He grabbed a filled syringe from inside, came back, and injected it into the suspect’s neck.

Just to be sure, he waited twenty seconds before pulling his shoe out of the guy’s mouth and slipping it back on.

Looking down at the bite mark left behind, he wrinkled his nose. "Ugh... that’s some freaky taste."

He hoisted the guy over his shoulder, threw him into the trunk, shut it, clapped the dust off his hands, and drove off.

Meanwhile, Ryan came back to the rear entrance when he realized the officers there weren’t responding. Just as he turned to chase down leads, backup from the precinct rolled in.

All they found were bullet casings and bloodstains—the aftermath of a fierce shootout.

Ryan crouched to inspect the blood trails on the road, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. Looks like someone else got to the suspect first.