Reborn in 24 TV SHOW

Ten minutes later, Luke had revealed everything he knew. Bryan, being familiar with Paris, was heading to the Brook Estate to rescue his daughter, while Owen escorted the near-collapsing man directly to the club to save Amanda. As for anyone else who got in the way, neither Bryan nor Owen planned on leaving any of them alive.

Bryan casually shot Luke dead. When he emerged from the small room, Toby's screams echoed from within. Owen knew that Bryan had switched on the power before leaving, and Toby was now being electrocuted to death.

At the street corner, Bryan flagged down a taxi. He shoved Cynthia inside and flashed his security bureau ID to the driver, then handed him a piece of paper. "Take her to this address. Tell the boss that the 'Judge' sent her. This concerns national security, so don't get any funny ideas. I've memorized your license plate. If anything goes wrong, you can look forward to a long stay in prison."

Paris Police Headquarters

Just as Damien was about to clock out for the day, he received a call from his superior, Ken. He was ordered to take a team to the upscale Pasadin Club, as there was intelligence suggesting a possible terrorist attack.

Grumbling with reluctance, Damien sounded the alarm. The GIPN (French Police Special Intervention Unit) was mobilized immediately. Three minutes later, fully armed GIPN officers assembled in front of their armored vehicle. At Damien's command, they set off in unison.

Meanwhile, Albanian gang leaders throughout their territory were also receiving calls from Horpast. Hurriedly gathering their henchmen, armed with all sorts of weapons, they loudly raced toward Pasadin in a convoy of vehicles.

The night promised to be anything but peaceful.

Near the Pasadin Angel Club, Owen parked his car at a safe distance. After gathering intel from their captive guide, Owen slit his throat. He never intended to let the man live—anyone who had harmed Amanda had to die.

At the back entrance of the club, Owen spotted several guards from afar, along with a few others who were smoking and talking on the phone. He silently bypassed them, heading toward the side of the building.

Through the earlier interrogation, Owen had learned that their movements were already exposed. However, he remained unaware that one of the men by the back entrance, the one making a call, was none other than his nemesis, Mark. Not that it would have changed anything; at the moment, finding Amanda was his sole priority.

There was no electric fence on the perimeter wall. Owen found a suitable spot and climbed over. Inside, a manicured lawn stretched before him.

He moved cautiously across the grass, eventually scaling a drainage pipe to reach the third floor. The club had four levels, and Owen had thoroughly observed the building earlier. He deduced that the first three floors were likely not part of the public area and decided to begin his search on the third floor.

Owen's luck wasn't great. As soon as he crawled through a window, the door to the room opened. A guard, wearing an earpiece, stepped inside.

The guard froze momentarily upon seeing Owen by the window. Before he could shout, Owen's gun fired twice, the shots muffled by a makeshift silencer—a soda bottle attached to the barrel. The sound was contained, and no one outside noticed.

Owen quickly dragged the body further inside, closed the door quietly, and scanned the room. He hid the corpse on the balcony, then changed into the guard's black suit and put on the earpiece.

With his disguise, Owen moved more freely. He searched most of the third floor without raising suspicion. When encountering other guards, he mimed listening to instructions through his earpiece and responded with vague phrases, easily blending in.

Upon entering another room, Owen found a guard in a black suit lounging on a sofa, sipping coffee. Owen feigned surprise, glancing around the room as if he had entered by mistake. He made a show of checking the door number before apologizing and attempting to leave.

"Wait a minute. Who are you?" the guard called out.

"Oh, I'm new. Name's Jamie."

The man, apparently taking a break, looked suspicious. He set his coffee cup down and scrutinized Owen. Seeing the man's growing suspicion, Owen stepped back inside. If the man continued asking questions, Owen would have to kill him. To avoid alerting anyone, he closed the door behind him.

"Jamie? I've never heard of you. Who's your team leader?" the guard demanded.

"Uh… Kevin," Owen answered casually, all while inching closer. This guy seemed to be a minor leader—too sharp to be tricked easily.

"Kevin? Who's that? And why is your badge marked with Andrew's name?"

The guard's eyes widened as he noticed the ID badge pinned to Owen's collar. However, it was too late. Owen had closed the distance.

Before the man could react, Owen delivered a swift chop to his throat. The guard staggered, choking and gasping. Owen circled behind him, grasped his head, and snapped his neck with a sharp twist. The crack of bone breaking echoed softly in the room as the man collapsed.

Owen shook his hands to relieve the tension, then dragged the body behind the sofa and concealed it. This wasn't his first time handling such situations.

"Sorry, man. You just had to be nosy," Owen muttered, straightening his suit.

Just as he reached for the door, he heard footsteps approaching. He swiftly hid behind a coat rack as the door opened. A figure entered, moving quietly. From his position, Owen could see only the person's attire—a server's uniform: white shirt, black vest. Judging by the figure's curves, it was a woman.

Owen hesitated. He had little inclination to kill a woman. He decided to wait for her to leave, provided she didn't notice the body behind the sofa. If she did… well, he'd knock her out instead of killing her.

Unfortunately, luck wasn't on his side. The woman headed straight for the sofa. Owen cursed silently. As she passed the coat rack, he lunged, aiming to subdue her.

However, to his shock, she reacted as if she had eyes on the back of her head. Twisting around, she lashed out with a swift kick. Her leg, like a whip, struck Owen, forcing him to stumble back. He barely managed to shield his chest with his arms.

In an instant, Owen knew this was no ordinary server. Her strength and reflexes were those of a highly trained combatant.

As he regained his balance, Owen braced himself for her to scream and alert the others. But the woman remained eerily silent, moving with feline grace as she pressed the attack.

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