The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire-Chapter 227: Sokolova!!!

Miles slowly stepped backward.

The pistol still rested in his hand.

Calm.

Steady.

Blood from Elias’ body continued to spread across the stone pavement behind him, dark and thick beneath the fading light.

Artem inhaled deeply.

For a moment he thought he understood the situation.

Miles had stepped away.

The gun was no longer pressed at his head.

The tribal soldiers were busy securing the surrendered men.

Maybe...

Just maybe...

Miles was letting him go.

Artem took a cautious step sideways.

Then another.

He slowly tried to move away from the center of the square.

Then a cold voice stopped him.

"Who said I am letting you go, Artem?"

Artem froze.

Miles had turned back.

The pistol lifted slightly again.

Artem’s throat tightened.

"I..."

His voice faltered.

"We don’t have any grudge between us."

His eyes searched Miles’ face desperately.

"Let me go."

Miles looked at him for a moment.

Then nodded slowly.

"You are right."

His voice was calm.

"We do not have a grudge."

Artem’s chest loosened slightly.

A small relieved smile crept onto his lips.

"So why should I kill you?"

Artem’s smile widened a little more.

But then Miles finished the sentence.

"I do not have a grudge with you."

Miles’ eyes shifted slightly to the side.

"But she does."

Artem frowned.

Confusion flashed across his face.

"She?"

Before he could say anything more

A metallic click sounded beside him.

A gun barrel appeared.

Pressed directly against his temple.

Artem slowly turned his head to the right.

His heart skipped a beat.

A girl from his own expedition team stood beside him.

Her arm steady.

Her finger resting on the trigger.

Artem stepped back instinctively.

But the gun followed him.

Her voice was cold.

"Artem Belov."

Her eyes burned with quiet fury.

"Today will be your last day."

At first Artem could not process what he was seeing.

This girl had traveled with them.

Shared food.

Walked the forest.

Pretended to be one of them.

But now...

There was no doubt.

She was not one of them.

"Who are you?" Artem asked slowly.

The girl smiled faintly.

"You will know."

Behind them several remaining men slowly bent down, trying to pick up the rifles they had dropped earlier.

Miles’ voice cut through the square instantly.

"Do not even try."

Every man froze.

They slowly lifted their eyes toward him.

Miles lowered the pistol slightly.

"I will give you an offer."

His voice was calm.

"Surrender."

He paused.

"And I will let you live."

The men looked at each other.

Fear had already taken over their hearts.

They had seen the massacre.

They had seen Elias die.

They had seen the Ghost.

One by one they made their decision.

Hands slowly rose into the air.

Weapons were left untouched on the ground.

They stepped aside quietly.

Artem stared at them in disbelief.

"Hey!"

His voice cracked.

"Where are you going?"

His eyes filled with panic.

"Kill this girl!"

But none of them moved.

None of them listened.

The tribal warriors quickly stepped forward and secured the surrendered men.

Basil appeared from one of the nearby streets.

Hilda walked beside him.

The Monk and his followers emerged calmly from another building.

The square was now completely under control.

The girl tightened her grip on the pistol pointed at Artem.

Miles stepped closer.

"You know why I brought all of you here into the Sylven forest?"

Artem’s breathing grew uneven.

Miles continued slowly.

"For me it would have been very easy to destroy the treasure hunters."

His eyes hardened.

"In your own countries."

"In your own homes."

He stopped directly in front of Artem.

"But I wanted to see your faces."

His voice lowered slightly.

"When you realized..."

"...there was never any treasure for you."

Artem’s body trembled.

Miles turned his head toward the girl.

"And I wanted to show her something."

His voice softened slightly.

"The fear on your face."

Artem swallowed hard.

Miles looked back at him.

"You do not know her."

He spoke clearly.

"Do you?"

Artem wanted to speak.

But no words came out.

Miles answered for him.

"Her name is Veronika."

He paused deliberately.

"Veronika Sokolova."

The surname struck Artem like a hammer.

His pupils widened instantly.

Old memories flooded back into his mind.

the party.

Natalia Sokolova

A terrified little girl crying in the corner.

Artem slowly lifted his eyes toward the girl again.

Now her face seemed familiar.

"You..."

His voice trembled.

"You are her daughter."

Veronika’s smile disappeared.

"So you remember her."

Artem’s breathing became uneven.

"I am... I am sorry."

His voice cracked.

"That night..."

"I did not mean to..."

His words collapsed.

Miles chuckled coldly.

"Come on Artem."

"How innocent can you suddenly become?"

His eyes sharpened.

"You killed her mother."

He looked at Veronika.

"In front of her."

Veronika’s gaze never left Artem.

Her voice trembled with controlled rage.

"Artem Belov."

She stepped closer.

"I searched for you my entire life."

Her fingers tightened around the gun.

"You will pay for your crimes today."

Her voice became firm.

"I will give justice to my mother."

Artem’s legs trembled.

"I..."

Veronika inhaled slowly.

Then suddenly she sighed.

"But."

She surprised everyone.

"I will give you a chance."

Without warning she tossed the gun aside.

It clattered across the pavement.

The tribal soldiers reacted immediately.

But Miles raised a hand slightly, signaling them to hold.

Veronika pulled a knife from her belt.

The blade glinted in the fading light.

She tossed the knife toward Artem.

It slid across the ground and stopped near his feet.

"Take it."

Her voice was steady.

"Fight me."

She raised another knife in her own hand.

"Kill or be killed."

Her eyes burned.

"If you kill me..."

She pointed toward Miles and the others.

"They will let you go."

Artem stared at the knife.

He hesitated.

Veronika tilted her head slightly.

"What?"

Her voice carried mocking challenge.

"Are you scared?"

Slowly.

Very slowly.

Artem bent down.

His hand wrapped around the knife.

Miles watched the scene unfold.

A faint grin appeared on his face.

Veronika stepped backward slowly.

The knife in her hand reflected the dim light of the settlement.

Across from her, Artem held the blade he had picked up from the ground.

The square had turned silent.

Tribal warriors formed a circle around them. Basil stood with folded arms. Hilda watched without speaking. The Monk remained still, his calm eyes observing everything.

Miles stepped aside.

This was not his fight.

The space between the two of them became a small battlefield.

Artem rotated the knife in his hand and forced a crooked smile.

"So the little girl wants revenge."

Veronika said nothing.

Her grip tightened around the handle.

Her breathing slow.

Controlled.

But inside her chest, something was trembling.

Artem took the first step.

"You should have stayed hidden."

Another step.

"People like you never survive this world."

Veronika’s voice came low and cold.

"I already died once."

The words made Artem pause.

The silence between them snapped.

Artem lunged first.

The blade flashed forward aiming straight for her ribs.

Veronika twisted sideways. The knife scraped past her jacket as she stepped back and slashed toward his wrist.

Artem blocked with his forearm.

Metal clashed against metal.

The sound echoed across the square.

They circled each other slowly.

Artem smirked again.

"You know something funny?"

He tilted his head.

"I barely remember your mother."

The words struck something deep inside Veronika.

Her chest tightened.

Artem continued walking around her.

"Just another woman."

His voice carried mockery.

The memory returned instantly.

A night.

Bright lights.

Loud music.

She was small then.

Too small to understand anything.

A party.

Adults laughing.

Her mother smiling.

Veronika was sitting playing with a toy.

Another memory hit her like lightning.

A loud crash.

A car outside.

Then something falling.

A body.

Her mother’s body.

Falling from above.

Landing hard on the hood of the car.

Glass shattering.

Blood spreading across the metal.

Little Veronika running outside.

Crying.

"Mama!"

Her tiny hands shaking her mother’s shoulders.

Her mother’s eyes barely open.

Blood everywhere.

Then the shadow standing nearby.

Looking down at them.

The memory shattered the present.

Veronika attacked.

Her blade cut through the air with sudden speed.

Artem barely blocked the strike.

Another slash came immediately.

Then another.

Then another.

Her movements were fast.

Wild.

Driven by years of buried rage.

Artem stepped back quickly, deflecting each strike.

Steel clanged repeatedly.

"You fight like a child!"

He pushed her back with a strong kick to her side.

Veronika slid across the pavement but regained balance.

Her chest heaved.

Her eyes burned.

"You ruined my childhood"

Her voice cracked.

"You killed my mother."

Artem rushed again.

This time his knife moved low.

Veronika jumped back but the blade sliced across her arm.

Blood appeared instantly.

She barely reacted and attacked again.

This time her strikes became precise.

Training.

Years of training.

Her blade cut across Artem’s shoulder.

Artem groaned and staggered.

"Little bitch!"

He swung wildly.

Veronika ducked under the attack and drove her elbow into his ribs.

A crack echoed.

Artem stumbled back gasping.

She moved again.

The blade flashed.

A deep cut opened across his thigh.

Artem fell to one knee.

Breathing hard.

His knife shaking.

Veronika stepped closer.

Her own breathing uneven.

Her eyes filled with tears.

"You remember her now?"

Artem looked up.

Fear finally appeared on his face.

"I..."

His words failed.

Veronika’s voice broke.

"I called her Mama."

Her hand trembled.

"You pushed her that night."

Artem tried to stand.

Veronika moved faster.

One step.

One motion.

The blade slid across his throat.

Clean.

Precise.

Artem froze.

His eyes widened.

Blood burst from the wound.

He collapsed onto the pavement.

His body twitched once.

Then went still.

The square remained silent.

Veronika stood there.

Her knife fell from her hand.

Her legs gave out.

She dropped to her knees beside the body.

For a moment nothing came out.

Then suddenly the scream tore from her chest.

A raw broken cry.

Years of pain exploding at once.

"Mama!"

Her voice shattered into sobs.

Her shoulders shook violently.

The scream faded into a quiet, broken crying.

Soft.

Weak.

Like the cry of a child who had waited too long.

Miles walked forward slowly.

He stopped beside her.

For a moment he said nothing.

Then he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Veronika leaned forward.

Her forehead pressing against his arm.

Her voice trembling.

"It’s over..."

Miles’ voice was quiet.

"Yes."

He looked down at Artem’s body.

"It’s over."

Veronika kept crying softly as the square remained silent around them.