Chapter 703:
From his elevated stance, Verruckt dissected her every movement with the precision of a scalpel. The fragile woman before him bore no resemblance to the assassin who had fought him tooth and nail in the laboratory. And her logic was hard to dismiss.
All the evidence stacked against her felt too convenient, like a poorly written story where the villain wore a neon sign. But convenience was a double-edged sword. It could be the truth or a well-crafted lie.
The break room hung heavy with silence, broken only by the rhythmic drip of water somewhere nearby, each drop a quiet punctuation to the growing tension. Confusion sat on everyone’s faces like an unwanted guest, leaving them unsure whether to breathe or brace for impact.
“Make me believe you.” Verruckt’s voice cut through the quiet like frost on a spring morning. “Take off your clothes.” He recalled that both of them had been somewhat wounded in his recent battle with the assassin, albeit the obvious wound on her arm could be concealed.
The audience was perplexed, lowering their heads and gasping together.
Even Jareth, usually as composed as a stone monument, blinked in surprise.
This was not the Verruckt he knew. In the past, suspicion alone was enough to end a life; innocence was rarely a currency accepted in his court. Yet, here he was, offering an opportunity unheard of — a lifeline that seemed suspicious in itself.
Jareth’s thoughts snapped back to Verruckt’s rare admission not long ago: Alice had been granted an exception. Now, a second one was handed down with baffling ease.
Allison, who was prepared, wiped away her tears and spoke with hope. “If I do this, will I live?”
Verruckt’s gaze bore into hers, his words deliberate and unyielding. “It’s possible.”
With a trembling breath, she nodded. “Alright.”
Shame and vulnerability painted her cheeks crimson, but she complied, slipping out of her top to reveal a plain white tank beneath. Her body was a canvas of injuries, each mark a grim testament to recent chaos. From her arms to her collarbone, scratches crisscrossed her skin like a map of misfortune. They weren’t clean cuts from a blade but jagged streaks that screamed of something else entirely.
“What caused these?” Verruckt’s sharp eyes roved over her, his frown deepening.noveldrama
“It was the coffee can,” Allison said, glancing down at her own red eyes. She made a hand gesture. “The coffee can exploded, and I only had time to shield my face.”
Verruckt’s gaze, sharp as a knife, lingered on her. The wounds, indeed, told a tale that matched the kind of damage you’d expect from coffee can shards. For reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, the longer he stared, the more irritated he grew. It wasn’t about whether she was the assassin. No, it reminded him of subject 001 — someone who used to bear injuries like these.
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