Chapter 712:
“Get out,” he barked.noveldrama
Everyone exited the car, leaving the doors wide open, their movements deliberate, as if waiting for Allison to follow.
Allison inhaled, her senses sharpening as she tried to discern her surroundings. A faint metallic scent lingered in the air, and unease prickled her skin.
Growing impatient, the one-eyed thug threatened her. “Move it, don’t make this harder on yourself. You’ll regret it.”
Lowering her gaze, Allison carefully hid the deadly glint in her eyes. She allowed herself to appear compliant, stepping out of the car without resistance.
By now, the dagger hidden on her had already worked through most of the ropes binding her hands. Thanks to the contact lenses she had donned when she left the lab, she could see through the dim light and quickly realized that they were in a desolate warehouse yard surrounded by stacked shipping containers.
Moreover, the people Verruckt had sent to follow her had already been shaken off.
“Move along,” the thug urged, his voice laced with a sinister eagerness.
One of his henchmen stepped forward, pulling a knife. He pressed the blade’s tip close to Allison’s neck and nodded toward a nearby warehouse. “This way, don’t try anything stupid. You wouldn’t want me to ruin that pretty little face of yours,” he ordered.
Allison’s gaze flicked to the blade, her expression tense but unreadable. She took a deliberate step back, her voice trembling just enough to seem convincing. “Please… don’t hurt me,” she whispered.
Her apparent fear satisfied them.
They led her into the warehouse, the faint hum of fluorescent lights echoing in the hollow space. The one-eyed thug followed closely, his gaze trailing over her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. His leering smirk widened as he took in every detail, the anticipation in his eyes growing darker.
Just as he began fumbling with his belt, one of his underlings approached with a phone in hand.
“Mr. Cullen, we just got word. The head of Fleeingland Lab wants to meet with you,” the goon said in a low voice.
The goon whispered a few more words into his ear, making a throat-slitting gesture. “Should we take this chance to kill him?”
The one-eyed thug, Yashiro Cullen, paused, staring at the glowing screen in his hand. A set of coordinates blinked on the map.
“Looks like it’s really him,” he muttered before smirking.
“But there’s no need to rush. The mafia will be more than happy to do the dirty work for us,” Yashiro sneered. “We’ll just follow behind and clean up what’s left.”
.
.
.