FakeNovelChapter 1290: Nate's eyes opened slowly, his expression sharpening as he reached for the phone Matias handed over. Several missed calls glowed on the screen, deepening the crease between his brows. "Did she say where she was going?" "No," Matias replied, his voice steady. "She only askedto pass on the message." Nate pressed his lips into a firm line as he dialed Corrine's number.
A cold, mechanical voice greeted him instead. "Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently out of service." His grip on the phone tightened. Corrine's device had the latest technology, ensuring signal reception even in the most remote areas-unless something was deliberately blocking it. A signal jammer.
The realization struck him hard, a ghost from the past resurfacing. His mind flashed back to the tunnel incident on the Independent Continent.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtThe chill that followed settled deep in his bones. His expression darkened, his sharp features iced over with a dangerous calm.
Just then, his phone vibrated in his hand. Vulture.
Nate answered. Whatever Vulture said made his eyes gleam with a lethal edge. “Turn back!" His command was instant, his voice like the crack of a whip.
Meanwhile, Jonathan strode toward the reception room, his steps purposeful. Bleacher moved ahead to open the door-only to freeze at the muffled sounds from within. Low, suggestive moans.
The sounds sent an uncomfortable chill through the air. Bleacher did not react with embarrassment. Instead, he turned to Jonathan, his face betraying only fear and unease.
Jonathan's eyes narrowed, his handsfeatures turning stone-cold. An ominous aura bled from the furrow of his brow, making the hallway feel like a frozen abyss. "Open the door." Bleacher swallowed hard, silently praying for those inside. He turned the doorknob but found the door locked from within. Closing his eyes, he braced for what awaited inside.
Despite the casino's rules, one thing was certain-Corrine was off-limits. Anyone foolish enough to lay a finger on her would soon regret it. Given how much their boss valued her, those men were as good as dead.
Jonathan's gaze flicked toward Bleacher, cold and cutting. "Are you planning to stand there all night? Must I teach you how to break down a door?" That was enough. Bleacher stepped back, braced himself, and delivered a powerful kick to the door. Once. Twice. Three times. The lock gave way with a sharp crack, and the door swung open.
Bright light flooded the room, revealing the scene inside.
Three men in black writhed on the floor, clutching their stomachs, faces twisted in agony. At the center stood Corrine. She had one man pinned against the table, her hand firm on his shoulder. In the other, she held a fruit knife, its blade gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
Slowly and deliberately, she dragged the knife down the man's cheek a calculated movement, her touch light but menacing. The cold steel traced a path across his skin. Chapter 1290
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