The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary-Chapter 42: No Longer a Drill

I narrowed my eyes, watching the cloaked figure up ahead. His left leg moved strangely, stiff and uneven. For a man trying to flee, he wasn’t fast enough. His stride had a noticeable drag, as if he’d once injured it badly and never fully recovered.

’Perfect.’

I raised my crossbow, steadying my breath as I took aim at his weakened leg. The injury was slowing him just enough. My finger squeezed the trigger, and with a sharp twang, the bolt flew.

"Argh!"

The bolt struck his calf, and he staggered, caught off guard. He let out a grunt of pain but didn’t fall. Instead, he stumbled forward, his steps faltering. Each one was slower, his balance slipping with every stride.

"Stop, you bastard!" I shouted, my voice cold, sharp like flint. "I’ll shoot you again if you don’t stop this instant. And the next shot will be fatal."

He slowed, limping heavily as the alley opened into a small, deserted courtyard tucked behind the rows of vendors. Cracked walls rose on either side, and stacks of forgotten crates lined the edges. No crowd. No witnesses.

Eventually, he raised one arm in a show of surrender, while the other still clutched Amira tightly against his chest.

He turned around and slowly lowered the hood of his cloak.

I flinched.

"You..."

"That’s right, you little wench." His grin twisted into something grim and venomous. "Who would’ve thought we’d meet again like this?"

"Release the child. Now!" I shouted, teeth clenched, crossbow aimed dead-center between his eyes.

He only sneered. "You take me for a fool? Why the hell would I do that?"

"You really want to test me?" I hissed, eyes blazing. "Don’t you see what’s in my hand? With this, I can blow your head off right this second."

"Oh, scary..." he mocked, voice oily. "But you know, missy, thanks to you following me here... you’ve made my job easier."

I blinked, thrown off for a split second, eyes narrowing as wariness crept in.

Then he shouted.

"Hi! Out now!"

My breath hitched.

From behind the crates and the half-collapsed wall, figures began to move. One by one, they stepped out, armed, coordinated, and far too calm for common street thugs. They hadn’t been hiding by chance. They had been waiting.

A dozen... no, more. Fourteen?

So this had been a setup.

"Wow," I muttered, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "So you managed to gather new lapdogs, huh?"

Kareem flinched. A thick vein bulged at his temple, his lips curling with fury.

"You little bitch! You think this is a joke?! You’re the reason for the warehouse fire, aren’t you?! I lost everything. My crew, my job, and half my damned face and body got burned because of you screw-ups!"

"Huh. And do you think I care about scum like you?" I spat. "You kidnapped innocents, turned children into slaves, beat them into submission. And for what? Smuggling cursed goods and whatever else into the empire? There are people in this world worth saving. But not you. Not bastards like you!"

I didn’t say killing was ever right, but for monsters like them...

...Sometimes, there was no other way.

Kareem’s face darkened. His skin flushed red, veins swelling like angry worms across his temple. His breathing was ragged, teeth clenched.

"Kill that wench!"

The men behind him moved. A few drew knives, one raised a crude axe, and the rest closed in with grim focus, weapons at the ready.

’Fourteen. If I use the crossbow, I can take down a few, but I don’t have enough bolts. I’ll have to close the distance.’

I shoved the crossbow back into its holster beneath my cloak and reached for the other weapon, fingers wrapping around cold metal.

The dagger.

I rushed them.

"She’s coming right at us!"

I ducked low, dodging a blade as it slashed past my cheek. The first man lunged, his movement sloppy. I twisted, plunged the dagger into his side, and yanked it free. Blood splattered across the stones.

"You f*cking wench—!" one shouted.

"Don’t just stand there. Get her!"

Another charged. I kicked him straight in the knee, spun behind his back, and jammed the dagger between his ribs.

"Too slow."

Two more tried to flank me. I feinted left, then drove my blade across one’s throat, then backhanded the other with the hilt. He stumbled, and I ended it quick.

The rest hesitated now. I could see it in their eyes. Fear.

But hesitation doesn’t last long when you’re outnumbered. One man shouted, and the spell broke. Three of them charged at once.

I met the first with a slash to the arm, twisted past his swing, and jammed the dagger into his gut. I pulled it free just in time to catch the second, slashing across his thigh to bring him down. The third grabbed my shoulder. I spun into him, drove the hilt of my blade into his jaw, then stabbed upward beneath his ribs. He dropped.

Another came from the side. I ducked low, slashed across his knee, and kicked him off balance. When he hit the ground, I didn’t let him get up.

I kept moving, charging toward the rest.

Then—

"Ack! You little—!"

I turned sharply.

Amira had moved.

Somehow, the girl had slipped partway out of Kareem’s grip, just enough to land a kick. Her eyes, though still dazed, burned with determination.

She’d fought back.

’Amira...’

The kids had been hanging around during our training the past few days, watching from the edge. They were curious. She had asked questions. So had Emir. They talked to Mateo and Caleb too, asking how to defend themselves, break free from a grip, and stay calm when things got dangerous. They listened carefully. She must have remembered it all well.

But—

"Aaahh!"

Kareem grabbed her again, this time by the arm, and struck her hard across the back.

Amira screamed.

"Amira!" I shouted, heart twisting.

My face darkened. Something cracked.

The last two men between us flinched at the sight of me.

I didn’t hesitate.

I stepped forward fast, blade slashing in an arc.

One tried to block. Too late.

Blood spurted. His body hit the wall. The last one turned to run—

I grabbed him by the collar, yanked him back, and drove the dagger straight through his stomach.

No mercy.

Then I lifted my crossbow, eyes blazing.

"You like hitting little girls?"

I fired, right into Kareem’s other leg.

"ARRRGH!"

His knees buckled, both legs failing him. He crumpled with a howl, and Amira tumbled from his arms.

I sprinted to her. ƒгeewebnovёl_com

"Amira!" I caught her shoulders. Her tiny body was trembling, lips pale, her breath shaky.

"Miss Sonia..."

Then—

I felt it.

Movement behind me.

I spun too slowly.

A shadow fell over us. Kareem, bloodied and wild-eyed, lunged forward with a knife glinting in his hand.

Amira’s eyes widened in terror.

"Miss Sonia!"

Thud.

Something struck him in the head.

Hard.

He froze.

The knife slipped from his grip.

Then he toppled forward, crashing to the ground, unmoving.

A dagger was lodged deep in his skull.

My eyes whipped toward the source.

A figure stepped into view, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of late afternoon sun. He leaned against the edge of a ruined wall, the wind teasing the hem of his open coat.

"Huu... that was close," came the low, familiar voice.

It was Khan.

* * *

Left behind at the stall, Emir stood frozen.

His body trembled uncontrollably, small fists clenched at his sides. He stared down the narrow alley Sonia had disappeared into, his chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked breaths.

’What should I do? Amira and Miss Sonia are both in danger...’

He gritted his teeth.

He didn’t want to be a burden. He didn’t want to be the little boy who could only watch helplessly while others fought and bled. But what could he do?

What could someone like him possibly do...?

"You okay, boy?"

The vendor Sonia had left him with leaned forward, concern etched into his weathered face. He reached behind the stand and pulled out a small cup.

"I don’t know what’s going on, but sit. Here, drink this. It’ll help calm your nerves."

"T-thank you..." Emir stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he accepted the water with trembling hands.

His shoulders were hunched. His eyes were too wide for a boy his age, and they remained locked in the direction Sonia had gone.

The water felt cool on his tongue, but it didn’t stop the shaking.

’Miss Sonia will come back. She said she would. And she always keeps her promises.’

He had seen her fight before. She was strong. Brave. She didn’t even flinch when danger came running.

But still...

Still his heart ached, twisted into a knot of helpless worry.

What if something went wrong?

He clutched the empty cup tightly, fingers trembling against the clay.

’No. I can’t just sit here. I have to do something. Anything!’

His gaze swept frantically across the market.

Vendors were still chatting with customers, as if nothing had happened. Stalls were open, coins were exchanged, spices wafted through the air—but for Emir, everything was too loud, too wrong.

And then... he saw someone.

A man moving calmly through the crowd, cutting across the street.

His long coat billowed gently behind him. He walked with a confidence that stood out among the noise.

A flicker of recognition lit up in Emir’s eyes.

Emir dashed toward him.

"Mister!"

The man stopped mid-step and turned.

Dark eyes met his, sharp, assessing.

It was him.

Khan.

"You’re Mister Khan, right?"

Khan blinked. A subtle furrow formed between his brows, as if trying to place the voice, the face. The boy in front of him was panting, hair disheveled, his cheeks streaked with tears and sweat.

"...You are..." he murmured, recognition dawning in his eyes. "Emir?"

"Please help!"

Khan flinched.

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