Chapter 39

"Get someone to rough him up." Elias's sudden order caught Wilbur off guard, and for a second he thought he misheard.

"Wait, who exactly are you talking about?" Wilbur blurted without thinking.

"Rodger," Elias replied, his gaze sharp and dangerous.

The name startled Wilbur, and he asked, "Are you planning to get back at him for what happened to Ms.Harris?"

"He's not left-handed," Elias suddenly said.

If Wilbur didn't know Elias well, he might have thought Elias's answer was completely unrelated.

"I understand. I'll make sure the same hand he used on Ms. Harris is the one that gets crippled," Wilbur replied, a determined look settling on his face.

He checked the rearview mirror just in time to catch Elias already drifting back into silence, eyes closed and features unreadable.

Focusing on the road, Wilbur's expression tightened. He let out a sigh, the weight of his worry pressing heavy on his chest.

The thought of Elias confined to a wheelchair for life gnawed at him. Deep down, he hoped Emilia's words about Asclepius were real. If she'd lied, there would be consequences.

For an instant, a hard, ruithless light burned through Wilbur's normally gentle gaze.

..·

The night stretched on. Inside a karaoke bar, Emilia and Sloane were singing in their private booth.

Without warning, the door slammed open and eight men surged inside. Two of them instantly sealed off the door.

Over the pounding beat, Tyrone's scowl cut through the noise. "Shut that music off," he ordered.

"Right away, Tyrone!" his man replied, reaching for the controls.

Sloane shot Emilia a knowing look, both of them instantly on guard.

Tyrone's eyes flickered between the two women, sizing them up. "Which one of you is Emilia Harris?" he demanded.

A quick glance from Emilia to Sloane said everything. She rose from her seat, standing tall.

"That's me. Is there something you want from me?" Emilia replied, her voice steady as she eyed the rough-looking men around him.

"Unbelievable. He paid me to deal with a woman like you?" Tyrone muttered, spitting to the side in contempt.

He observed them, noting their youth and beauty, and sensed their initial fear when he and his men entered.The client had warned him that Emilia trained in martial arts, but she appeared fragile. Expecting someone tougher,he had brought seven men. Instead, he found a stunningly delicate woman.

His orders had been simple: rough them up enough to scare them. However, after laying eyes on them,Tyrone's thoughts grew sinister. He figured these women would fetch a hefty price even after being roughed up.

"Tyrone Newman? If you're smart, you'll walk away now. Otherwise, you'll be the one regretting this," Emilia said, her voice as cold and sharp as ice.

Tyrone let out a laughthat filled the air. He turned toward his men, waiting for them to join in, and their laughter bounced around the room, not taking Emilia's threat seriously at all.

"You guys hear that? She actually thinks she can put a scare in me. I'm trembling," Tyrone said, laughter stopping shor as he reached for a beer bottle. A dark look came over him. With a swift motion, he smashed the bottle on the table's edge.

Glass exploded across the table, its shards catching the light like teeth.

One wrong move with that bottle, and someone would be hurt badly.

With the sharp glass aimed their way, Tyrone stared at Emilia and Sloane, a twisted grin on his face. "You two really think I, Tyrone, am someone who backs down easily? Mark my words-if you don't end up begging for mercy today, they can toss me in the river and let the fish have me."