Revenge with My Quadruplets

Chapter 149

In the airport lobby, Kingsley's sister Freya was waiting for her luggage. She was dressed in a black suit, sharp and straight, with her black hair neatly combed and a steely, cold gaze. Her eyes were deep and piercing, giving her an inviolable look. Her appearance exuded power and confidence, as if she could handle any situation with ease.

The Livingston family's car was already waiting at the exit when Freya stepped out of the airport gate. She got into the car, and it slowly drove away from the airport. The car was a sleek black Maybach, its interior lined with luxurious leather and polished wood, reflecting the status and wealth of the Livingston family. Freya settled into the plush seat, her mind already racing with thoughts about the recent events that had brought her back.

Suddenly, her phone rang. Freya picked it up. It was Carl.

As Carl reported what happened recently about Kingsley to Freya, her tone became unusually cold and resolute. "I've returned. I'll handle these matters personally. Remember, you can't let Kingsley meet that person."

Carl's heart thumped when he heard this. He glanced back at Kingsley's frosty face and hesitated. "But..."

"I know what you're worried about. I won't let anyone hurt Charlotte, but Kingsley must never see that person again," Freya said. "Carl, you know what would happen."

Carl fell silent. Of course, he knew the consequences. Except for a few core members, no one else in the Livingston family had witnessed the tragedy back then. It was a nightmare the Livingston family could hardly bear to remember.

"That man" not only forced Freya and Kingsley's parents to die but also pushed Kingsley into an abyss of despair, almost to the point of no return. Kingsley's current illness had much to do with the trauma of those events.

Before Carl could reply, Freya spoke again, "Give him the phone. I'll say it myself."

Carl and the driver next to him both sighed in relief. They couldn't handle this situation themselves. "Kingsley, Ms. Livingston wants to talk to you..." Carl reported, holding his cell phone.

"Tell her to protect herself. She doesn't need to be involved in this matter," Kingsley responded coldly, not even raising his eyes. The screen light illuminated his cold face, his dark eyes tinted with a ruddy color.

"Kingsley!" Freya's tone turned harsh upon hearing Kingsley's words. "Listen! I will handle this matter!"

Kingsley frowned and finally looked up.

Suddenly, a bullet pierced the car's back window, shattering the glass and sending shards everywhere. Freya's heart tightened as she realized she was in an extremely dangerous situation. Her senses heightened, and her mind raced through their next moves.

"Hurry up!" she shouted to the driver, while leaning over to avoid the gunfire. The driver, a seasoned professional in the Livingston family's employ, did not need further prompting. He swerved sharply, attempting to dodge the bullets raining down on them.

Before she could say anything, the car suddenly lurched violently. The cell phone in her hand flew onto the back seat, ending the call. The computer in her lap was nearly shaken off as well.

"Ms. Livingston, we're pinned down!" came the driver's voice. "Five cars, surrounded!"

"Accelerate, break out," Ms. Livingston ordered coldly. Her voice was steady, betraying none of the tension of the moment. She had been in high-stress situations before, and her training kicked in.

As soon as she spoke, the driver increased his speed, and the black Maybach sped through the wind. One car chased behind them, flanked by two on each side, with two more in front. Freya's mind raced as she calculated their best escape route. The Maybach didn't dodge or avoid but instead crashed directly into the two cars ahead. At the same time, Freya took out her gun from under the seat. Gunmen in the pursuing vehicles were shooting at them. Freya opened the window, raised her arm, and pulled the trigger in one smooth motion.

The gunman in the pursuing vehicle was shot and fell back into the car. Freya then aimed at the driver, and after taking him out, the cars on both sides simultaneously lost control and began to spin in place.

The Maybach slammed into the two cars in front, continuing forward. The cars behind were caught up by the out-of-control vehicles on both sides, resulting in a massive crash and explosions. The sound of screeching tires, breaking glass, and the acrid smell of burning rubber filled the air.

The Maybach emerged safely and drove forward. The driver broke out in a cold sweat. Domestic security was usually very good; he had never encountered such a thrilling moment in the country before. In the back seat, Freya's eyes were calm, her face composed. She swiftly put away her gun and glanced out the window, her eyes reflecting a cold determination.

"Very well," she thought. She hadn't even gone after that person yet, and already they had started to pick a fight. The battle that had been years in the making had finally begun.

"Ms. Livingston, the phone is vibrating," the driver warned aloud. Freya glanced at the phone on the backseat couch and picked it up. It was Kingsley calling.

Freya pursed her lips and answered the phone. "Freya? Are you okay?" Kingsley's tone was shocked and anxious, filled with worry for Freya, completely lacking his usual calm and composed demeanor.

The darkness in Freya's eyes receded a little, and her tone unconsciously softened. "I'm fine," she said.

"I just found out that the attack you encountered came from a professional assassin organization. You don't need to worry about what happens next; I'll take care of it," Kingsley said with a hint of ruthlessness. "I want to see which other assassin dares to target the Livingston family again!"

"You—" Freya began, but Kingsley interrupted her.

"I'll catch that man and... kill him myself," Kingsley said, his tone soft yet vicious, sending chills down her spine. Freya knew the depths of her brother's hatred and the lengths he would go to exact revenge.

Freya was silent for a moment before finally acquiescing. "Since you want to make a move, don't worry and be bold. I'll cover for you, no matter what happens."

"Hmm," Kingsley murmured, his eyes narrowing with cold determination. The call ended, and Freya leaned back, the weight of the situation pressing down on her.

She knew the days ahead would be fraught with danger, but she was ready. The Livingstons would not be cowed by threats or attacks. The fight was just beginning.