"Leave it to my brother, you can trust him to get things done."
"I do feel pretty assured when he handles things." The source of this content ɪs noᴠelfire.net
Ronan Rhodes was full of resentment, "Master Nate, the way you say that, my brother and I just have our strengths. You’ve been at Dragonspire for so long, and you never even get to see a woman all year round. Now that you have a rare vacation, tell me the kind you like, and I’ll make sure to find you a satisfactory one."
"Master Nate, you’re not young anymore, without a woman by your side. Have you been at Dragonspire for so long with men that you’ve started getting interested in them?"
Landon Sutton’s eyes shot a fierce glare, forcing Ronan to reluctantly shut his mouth.
"Can you get me a wheelchair?"
Ronan was puzzled, looking down to examine Landon Sutton’s legs, "Who needs it?"
"Do you know the biggest difference between you and your brother?"
"Your brother never talks too much."
Ronan immediately understood, "I’ll go prepare it right away!"
In the dead of night, the streets were almost devoid of pedestrians. A black sedan drove through the apartment gates, stopping in front of one of the apartment buildings.
It was three in the morning, a time when most people were deep in sleep, and Shannon Quinn was no exception.
Lying in the bedroom on the big bed, a small, cozy night lamp was lit on the bedside. The bedroom window was slightly open, allowing the night breeze to blow in, causing the curtains to rise and fall slightly.
Living on a high floor, the security here had always been good, not even hearing about any thefts, so Shannon Quinn slept quite soundly.
The soft sounds outside did not wake Shannon Quinn, nor did she notice when the bedside night lamp suddenly turned off, continuing to sleep soundly.
Inside the house, a black figure in a wheelchair slid from the living room to her bedroom door, reaching out to open her bedroom door.
The room was pitch black, but the moonlight from outside allowed the outlines of objects to be barely discerned.
The sound of the wheelchair sliding wasn’t loud, but in the silent night, it was very clear.
It slid all the way to the bedside, facing the direction of Shannon Quinn’s face.
She still hadn’t woken up. If someone dragged her out of the room and sold her, she might not even know how it happened the next day.
If it weren’t for her being framed this time, he hadn’t planned to appear by her side so soon.
Because once his identity was exposed, the danger involved more than just him, but the entire mission.
This foolish woman made him break his rules again and again.
Intentionally reaching out to lift the hair from her face, his hand was gloved, unable to touch her smooth skin, but it made her sense something.
The tickling sensation made her swipe randomly at her own face, intending to turn over and continue sleeping. However, that hand grabbed her chin, stopping her from turning her head.
Shannon Quinn suddenly snapped her eyes open, still groggy, seeing a dark figure sitting at her bedside, unsure whether it was a dream or reality. She hurriedly sat up in bed, reaching out to press the bed’s light switch, but there was no response; the room remained dark.
It was a man’s voice, slightly hoarse and aged.
Shannon Quinn tightly wrapped herself in the quilt, shrinking back to the bed’s head, her voice trembling, "Who are you?"
The man slid closer in the wheelchair in her direction, adjusting his angle. With the light from outside, his appearance could be vaguely made out, or rather, the look of his mask.
A skull-like mask, with a black cloak, half of his face hidden under a large hood.
The terrifying appearance frightened Shannon Quinn so much she didn’t dare to breathe loudly, her legs went soft, and she didn’t dare to run. Her gaze glanced at the phone charging on the bedside; her mind had only one thought, which was to call the police.
"Sorry... for scaring you." The man’s voice sounded again, speaking as he pulled back a bit, seemingly wanting to ease her terror.
And when Shannon Quinn saw him pulling back, her hand stealthily reached for the phone.
At this moment, her inner fear couldn’t be comforted by words. Having such a strange man appear at her bedside in the dead of night could mean as little as losing her belongings or as much as losing her life. She didn’t want to die so ambiguously.
When her hand reached the phone, ready to use the previously set emergency call method, the man’s hoarse voice sounded again, "I am Vincent Rhodes."