103: Chapter 103 Donovan's Sneak Attack

Making an exception for him... Sean felt it was too strange.

Although White's case was solved, the report listed the killer as an "unknown creature"; such a report shouldn't have alerted the higher-ups of the Department of Justice.

After all, in this supernatural world, the higher-ups definitely knew about these things.

That Vampire wasn't anything too powerful to begin with, so why would it attract so much attention?

"Officer Black," Murray's voice rang out again, "I know you need time to consider. No rush. Go back to New Orleans first, and we'll talk when we meet."

This made it hard for Sean to refuse, so he said, "Fine."

"Contact me when you arrive." Murray hung up the phone.

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Sean put his phone down and looked at the street outside the window, starting to calculate.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

The top law enforcement agency in the United States.

They wanted him to join not because he solved White's case, but because he solved a case that others couldn't—because they saw his "value."

But the question was... did they know what his "value" was?

Did they know he was currently dealing with witches, Vampires, and demons?

While he was calculating, Ballard's voice came from beside him: "Who was it?"

Sean had nothing to hide: "That guy from the Department of Justice at the last commendation ceremony. John Murray."

Ballard's brow furrowed slightly: "What did he want with you?"

"He said there's a mission he wants to give me. He also asked if I'd consider joining the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

Ballard's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but her expression didn't change.

After a moment of silence, she spoke: "What do you think?"

Sean thought for a moment and said, "I don't know. I'll go back to New Orleans first and talk to him in person."

Ballard nodded. She wanted to ask if Sean was planning to go back for good, but in the end, she didn't speak, simply driving all the way home.

...

After returning home, Sean took off his jacket, tossed it over the back of a chair, and collapsed onto the bed.

The mattress creaked as he stared at the crack in the ceiling, his mind finally relaxing a bit.

With this relaxation, he began to consider Ballard's situation and asked, "Ballard, how will the case be handled from here?"

Ballard replied, "I'll handle it. I have the names, the identities, and the times they went missing. I'll write the report, submit it, and the rest is just procedure."

She paused and looked up at Sean: "You've helped enough. I'll handle the rest myself."

Sean nodded at her words and, before long, closed his eyes.

His spirit was too exhausted.

It wasn't physical fatigue, but the kind of exhaustion that seeped from his bones after returning from Lucia.

Combined with the pressure he felt from Elizabeth, he needed to sleep, to think of nothing and do nothing.

He rolled over and pulled the quilt up, covering his shoulders.

Ballard didn't speak again. The rhythmic sound of pages turning lulled him into a deep sleep.

Only when Ballard heard Sean's breathing become steady and long did she turn her head to glance at him.

Finding Sean asleep with his face buried in the pillow and the quilt only half-covering him.

She curled her lip, said nothing, and turned back to continue organizing the files.

Time passed slowly.

The light outside the window changed from white to yellow, from yellow to orange, and from orange to gray.

Evenings in Los Angeles were short; once the sun set, the sky darkened quickly.

Ballard stuffed the last document into her backpack, zipped it up, stood up, and stretched.

She checked her phone; it was almost eight o'clock. Sean had slept for several hours and should be waking up.

She walked to the bedside, intending to wake him.

Bang!

The window suddenly shattered.

Glass exploded and shards flew everywhere like countless knives.

Ballard spun around, her hand already reaching for the small of her back.

But she wasn't fast enough.

A large hand reached through the broken window, grabbed her collar, and lifted Ballard clean off the ground.

The hand was huge, with fingers like iron pincers gripping her throat, making it impossible for her to breathe.

She struggled to reach for her gun, but as the hand tightened, her fingers went limp.

Donovan stood on the windowsill, the moonlight behind him casting him as a black silhouette.

His face was obscured in the shadows, but those gray eyes shone terrifyingly bright, like two cold fires.

He looked at Ballard as if she were an object, an obstacle.

"Sean!" Ballard's voice squeezed out of her throat, raspy and sharp.

Donovan's hand tightened again, and Ballard's voice cut off.

Donovan dragged her in through the window and threw her to the floor.

Ballard slammed into the floorboards with a muffled groan, struggling to crawl up, but Donovan pinned her down with a foot on her back.

"Don't move."

His voice was low, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.

Ballard stopped moving.

It wasn't that she didn't want to move, but that she couldn't.

Donovan looked up toward the bed.

Sean was still asleep, the quilt pulled to his shoulders and his face buried in the pillow.

Donovan said viciously, "By what right? By what right do you sleep in her bed, drink her wine, and have her bring you home? I waited for so many years, and she wouldn't even look at me."

"You come here a few times, and she gives you everything?"

Jealousy!

This Donovan was driven by pure jealousy!

Listening to this, Sean sighed in his heart: "Love truly blinds people!"

That's right, Sean had been awake for a while.

He hadn't been woken by the sound of shattering glass; it was before that. His Intermediate Magic Power had trembled slightly in the dark.

But Donovan was too fast!

For now, he could only continue to feign sleep, letting Donovan get closer so he could protect Ballard's safety.

...

At this moment, Ballard was pinned under Donovan's foot, her fingers clawing at the floor, nails scraping the wood grain with a piercing screech.

Her mouth was open, wanting to scream, but her throat had been crushed, and she couldn't make a sound.

Donovan looked down at her; there was no anger or killing intent in his eyes, only a cold indifference.

"Who are you to him?" he asked.

Ballard didn't answer.

Donovan didn't care about the answer.

He released his foot, squatted down, and throttled Ballard with one hand while bracing the other on the floor.

"Sean." His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear. "Wake up."

Sean didn't move.

Donovan shouted again: "Sean!"

Ballard was being strangled, her face turning from red to purple, her fingers clawing weakly at the floor.

Sean could sense Ballard's condition; he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

His hand under the quilt tightened, magic power surging from his chest, flowing into his limbs and fingertips.

Golden light brewed within him, but it did not leak out.

He suppressed it.

Donovan let go of Ballard's neck, stood up, and took a step toward the bed.

His attention shifted from Ballard to Sean.

Now!

Sean opened his eyes.

Golden light exploded from his body—not a soft halo, but a bursting, blinding light like lightning.

He threw off the quilt and sprang from the bed, Intermediate Fighting fully activated!

Punching speed increased by 25%, power by 20%, reaction speed by 20%, vital point locking, instinctively identifying the opponent's weakest link!