Chapter 507 Narrow Roads, Bitter Enemies

• Seeing their boss, “Tyler,” draw his gun, the rest of the men in black yanked pistols from their waists too, all muzzles snapping toward Gordon Zeagler’s bodyguards.
• Right then, those cold black barrels were aimed straight at their foreheads.
• A moment ago, those four or five bodyguards had swagger to spare. But in seconds, their bravado leaked like air from a punctured balloon—they wilted fast.