Cole collapsed to the ground with a thud, his kneecaps shattered by the bullets, blood gushing from his wounds.
Ethan slowly walked up to him, looking down from above. "Mr. Cole, it seems your three hundred men are not very good shots. How about we try again? This time, let's aim for something more vital, like your head."
Cole trembled, fear flooding his eyes. He wasn't a fool; he knew the capabilities of his hidden men. They could barely hit a stationary target, which was why he'd kept his distance to avoid getting hit by stray bullets. So, how could his men have such precise aim now? The precision of the shots could only mean one thing, the hidden gunmen were no longer his men.
As he looked at Ethan, cold sweat dripped down Cole's face, 'That was three hundred elite members of Silver
