With just a distance of six or seven meters, facing a highly accurate marksman, even with Matt's extensive experience and formidable strength, he found himself at a loss in this moment.
His physical body was not resilient enough to withstand bullets.
Ronan moved with extreme speed, maintaining suppression while quickly shifting to the side of the office desk.
Matt Graves wasn't resigned to his fate; he had already retrieved a dagger from the drawer, waiting for this very moment.
With a swift sound, the dagger was thrown!
However, compared to the throwing knives thrown by a curved blade, it fell a bit short.
As Ronan effortlessly evaded, he fired his Glock with his left hand, four shots in quick succession—bang, bang, bang, bang.
No wasted words, he aimed directly for the vitals. The first two shots hit the larger target of the chest, while the latter two hit the head.
At such close range, Matt Graves had no chance of evading.
Ronan was afraid of encountering something similar to vampires or werewolves again. He emptied the remaining bullets in the magazine, firing them all.
Matt Graves collapsed to the ground, as dead as one could be.
Changing to a new magazine, Ronan activated his spiritual vision, seeing a reddish halo. With a twist of his left hand, the halo approached and entered the Book of Dominion.
Soul fragments +8!
Information flashed in his mind.
Master Locksmith: This proficient agent was most skilled in his youth at picking locks and stealing important items. Give him some simple tools, and he can open the majority of safes in the world.
The lock-picking skill he had acquired earlier could only handle some door locks and car locks. Matt Graves was directly granted a master-level skill.
No money in the future? Just go steal from a major drug lord's safe?
Buzzing—
Ronan searched Matt Graves' body, and suddenly his cellphone in the inner pocket vibrated. Taking it out and looking at the screen, a name appeared—Qu Qi!
He answered the call, pressed the speaker button, and placed the phone on the desk. The screen's light allowed Ronan to see a paper report.
A voice sounded, "Matt! Matt! Are you there?"
Ronan recognized this voice; he had spoken on the phone with this old comrade-in-arms Qu Qi several times before.
Just now, Qu Qi had heard gunshots over the phone. Later, the line went dead. He waited for a while and then dialed Matt's phone.
By the light of the phone, Ronan could see the contents of the document clearly. It was a report that Matt Graves had prepared to submit to a higher authority, mainly labeling himself as a terrorist!
Ronan shifted the aim of his gun, considering giving Matt Graves two more shots, but ultimately refrained.
Despite his reserved personality, he could also be intensely emotional at times; otherwise, he wouldn't have pursued all the way here.
With the person already dead, there was no need to beat a dead horse.
Ronan shook his head. Hasn't the CIA and the country behind it always been like this?
On the other end of the phone, Qu Qi seemed to realize something and suddenly said, "Ronan, is that you?"
Ronan first glanced out the window, then whispered, "Hello, Qu Qi."
Qu Qi hurriedly said, "If Matt is still alive, don't kill him."
Ronan didn't respond to him. He saw the laptop from the memory information, quickly opened it, and retrieved the locator from the memory information, then discarded it.
Qu Qi said, "Listen to me, Ronan, calm down! Spare Matt's life!"
At this point, Qu Qi still wanted to save his old partner's life. "You have a choice. If you don't kill Matt, you still have options. If you kill him, you'll be a rat in the dark for the rest of your life!"
"A choice?" Ronan couldn't help but say, "Qu Qi, when I chose to believe in you, did you give me a choice?"
Qu Qi was afraid of angering Ronan, "Stay calm, okay? Ronan, believe me, you have a choice!"
Ronan rarely engaged in verbal disputes with people, but he couldn't withstand the shameless face of the CIA. He said, "A choice to let Ian-Somos kill me to silence me? A choice to let the CIA eliminate me?"
"That's all in the past. Let's look ahead," Qu Qi deflected the issue, "You have a choice now, Ronan. Join the CIA, become one of us, and I promise you'll be safe."
Ronan thought about the werewolves and the other assassins, "Become a covert assassin? And then do your dirty work, eliminate people you deem deserving to die?"
Qu Qi said, "Ronan, you have no other choice! This is the only way out..."
Ronan couldn't be bothered to continue. He hung up the phone, threw it aside, replaced the magazine, fired another shot, turning the phone into a pile of broken parts.
"I'd rather choose to flee than cooperate with you!"
He wasn't foolish enough to believe Qu Qi's words again.
He found a backpack, put the laptop inside, and carefully searched Matt Graves' office desk drawers. As expected, he found a pile of FBI and DEA credentials and badges, all of which he stashed into the bag.
Seeing a bar and a liquor cabinet not far away, Ronan went over, smashing bottles of whiskey and vodka around the office, setting a fire. He held the gun and went downstairs, collecting the soul fragments along the way.
The remaining people had long fled.
Ronan retraced his steps, took a running start, jumped over the wall, got into his car, and quickly drove away.
In less than six or seven minutes, given the usual response speed of the Tijuana police, the on-duty personnel probably hadn't even left the office yet.
They might even wait until the call from the US consulate before heading out.
Turning his head to look, the second floor was engulfed in flames, roaring flames!
Racing along the coastal road, Ronan soon returned to the small dock. Demona had already set sail. He boarded a speedboat and headed out to sea.
Glancing at his digital watch, it was still early, not yet six o'clock.
Under the cover of night, a fishing boat was anchored in the open sea, its oil lamps casting their glow, illuminating the night sky.
Demona stood at the railing, anxiously peering towards the shore.
From the cabin, someone shouted, "Daisy, is this person coming or not? We should be leaving!"
Demona said, "I arranged to meet them at six!"
The person responded, "You're running for your life, not going on a date!"
Finally, lights appeared in the distance, accompanied by the sound of an engine roaring closer.
Demona pulled out a gun and vigilantly watched in that direction.
The person in the cabin started the boat's engine and stood ready to flee at any sign of trouble.
The sound of the engine grew nearer. Demona shouted, "Who's there?"
Ronan heard Demona's voice. He took off his hood and threw it into the sea, then replied loudly, "It's me!"
Demona's voice came again, "Come over here!"
With the light from the oil lamps, Ronan gradually made out the boat's shape. He reduced the speed of the speedboat, guided by Demona's directions, and approached the fishing boat. Using a net ladder, he climbed aboard.
Demona pulled Ronan up and asked, "Is it done?"
Ronan nodded, "It's done."
Demona called to the cabin, "Domingo, let's go!"
The fishing boat started its engines and headed south.
By the time dawn broke, the fishing boat reached the Ensenada port. Demona had already paid the fee. Ronan followed her, disembarking from the pier, switching a few vehicles in succession, and winding up in an ordinary middle-class residential area. They entered a standalone house.
After catching his breath and having something to eat, Ronan sat on the couch and said, "You're well-prepared for your escape."
Demona sat across from him, "For those in the underworld, how many can expect a good outcome? If you can't make it, you'll be swallowed up. If you grow big, you'll inevitably become a wanted criminal in the U.S. If you're not prepared with an escape route, you can only wait to die."
Ronan said, "I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess."
Demona shook her head, "It's none of your business. I'm just a woman. As the business grows, this day was bound to come sooner or later." She asked, "What are your plans next? Where do you want to go?"
Ronan took a sip of water, "I haven't decided where to go yet, but Daisy, it's best if we separate."
Seeing Demona's confusion, Ronan explained, "I've gotten tangled up with the CIA."
"What?" Demona was quite surprised, "Ronan, are you joking with me?"
To make Demona take it seriously, Ronan specifically elaborated further: "Before leaving, I went and killed the head of the CIA in Tijuana and set their office on fire! The true mastermind behind the incident on the red-light street last night was the CIA. They had... let me calculate, around ten agents or operatives. They all met their end at my hands."
He then roughly recounted his falling out with the CIA.
After hearing it, Demona was equally exasperated. While Ronan had intended to disrupt the drug traffickers' network for good reasons, the CIA treated people as expendable.
But she was well aware that there was no reasoning with this kind of situation.
Because the CIA's methods were an extension of the policies of the country backing it.
For instance, where could you argue against comical, large-scale weapons of mass destruction?
After thinking for a moment, Ronan said, "Daisy, if you have connections, consider going to a country on the other side of the Pacific. At least safety wouldn't be an issue."
Demona asked, "Connections and documents are easy to manage. For our next stop, let's go to Cancun on the Caribbean coast. I have some contacts there who can help us obtain genuine documents."
"Soon as possible," Ronan emphasized, "The longer you stay with me, the more dangerous it gets. Once the documents are settled, you better apply for a visa right away and head to the place I mentioned."
Demona furrowed her brow, "What can I do once I get there? In a foreign country, how can I support myself?"
Ronan easily thought of a solution, "You know English and are fluent in Spanish. You can work as a foreign language teacher there. High-paying jobs are easy to find."
Foreign language teachers like Demona would definitely be in demand, more so than Uncle Black.
Demona took out her phone, "You rest first, I'll figure out how to get the plane tickets."
As long as you were willing to pay, there were always ways to exploit loopholes. Demona soon managed to secure flight tickets.
Ronan remembered the laptop he brought along, powered it on, and entered the desktop using the appearance of the previous owner's memory information, quickly bypassing the password.
Most of the information was irrelevant to Ronan, so he jotted down the parts that might be useful.
Then he stumbled upon a video sent by an intelligence officer with the CIA's operations in Colombia.
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