The next second, Yvette produced a silver gun. Rory panicked, desperately trying to dodge, but the bullet was faster. It grazed her right arm and lodged in the wall.
Rory clutched her wounded arm, staring in disbelief at the gun in Yvette's hand. Her eyes met Yvette's cold gaze, and she trembled. "You... How could you have a gun? How dare you shoot me?"
Yvette walked to the bed, calmly donning her jacket. Her jaw was clenched, her expression icy. Then, in a threatening voice, she said, "Remember to knock next time, or you'll die."
Rory gritted her teeth, glaring at Yvette with venomous intensity. Her eyes burned with malice, like a snake poised to strike.
After a long pause, Rory burst into laughter. "Very well. I never thought the useless Holden could have a niece like you. I won't forget this, Yvette."
After her threat, Rory turned and walked toward the door. She paused, glancing at the bullet embedded deep in the wall—a testament to Yvette's skill.
After Rory left, Yvette finished dressing and picked up her phone, which displayed several messages from an unfamiliar number, yet the tone was familiar. She knew who it was. The messages read:
[Why didn’t you contact me when you came to Voraxia?] [Did you forget about me, Yvette?] [I want to see you.] [Can you text me back? I’ve been managing things down here just as you told me to.] [I miss you so much, Yvette.]
Yvette squinted, a nonchalant expression on her face as she pinched the corner of her eye. After a moment, she put the phone down, clearly uninterested in replying.
Rory immediately summoned a doctor upon returning home. Her trusted aide watched as the doctor carefully bandaged her wound. He held his breath, thinking, 'Who did this to the Boss?' Once finished, the doctor hesitated before saying, "Keep the wound dry. Luckily, it's just a graze, no bone damage, but it was close. The shooter possesses extraordinary skill."
Rory stared at her bandaged arm in silence, radiating resentment. After a long pause, she said coldly, "Prepare for the event the day after tomorrow. By then, I want Yvette…"
For the next few days, Rory remained absent, while Yvette continued her routine of early mornings and late nights. Rory's surveillance team lost track of Yvette and gave up. It wasn't until the agreed-upon day that Yvette arrived. Rory, still feeling the sharp pain of her wound, glared at her with hatred.
Yvette, dressed entirely in black, strolled leisurely to the couch, hands in her pockets. With a calm expression, she poured herself tea and sipped it slowly.
Her composure only fueled Rory's subordinates' rage; they glared at her with reddened eyes.
One man, unable to contain himself, stepped forward, pointing at Yvette. "How dare you act so arrogantly in front of our boss? Do you even know—"
Rory remained silent, intent on putting Yvette in her place—Yvette being the most arrogant woman he'd ever seen. The truth, however, was that no one could truly control Yvette.
Yvette glanced at the man with a raised eyebrow, calmly crossing her legs. A smirk played on her lips as she toyed with her teacup.
The man, believing he had intimidated Yvette, was about to gloat when she tossed the teacup, hitting him squarely on the head with uncanny precision.
He yelled in pain. The others, reacting swiftly, drew their guns, aiming them at Yvette. She remained cool and collected, showing no panic. Calmly, she leaned back, raising her eyebrows.
Rory continued to watch Yvette, her expression devoid of fear or distress.
The standoff lasted a few moments before Yvette spoke. "Put down your guns."
Suppressing her anger, Rory said, "There are ninety-nine people this time—forty men and fifty-nine women. I'm taking you to them, and then I'll send you to the dock. Tell your uncle that if the quality of this batch doesn't meet our standards, we won't be working together anymore."
The "batch" Rory referred to were poisonous insects. She needed a more advanced breed to control her people; hence the thorough medical examinations of their abductees.
Yvette nodded slightly, her tone casually indifferent. "Okay."
Rory gestured, and people quickly piled into cars, Yvette taking a seat in a separate vehicle. Five Jeeps and three large trucks headed toward a secluded village.
After a two-hour drive, the roads narrowed, the trees thickened, and signs of civilization vanished. They stopped at the entrance to a desolate village, patrolled by men in camouflage.
Yvette casually texted Jeremiah, propping her chin on her hand as she watched Rory speak with the men. From their lip movements, Yvette understood Rory was inquiring about the prisoners' status; one had died, leaving ninety-eight.
Hearing this, Rory slapped the man. Flustered, he apologized and begged for mercy.
Rory glanced at Yvette's car, then winked at the driver, who opened the door for Yvette.
With a nonchalant flick of her hand, Yvette brushed off dust and stepped out. Rory said, "Stay close. There are wild beasts in this area. If anything happens, don't expect anyone to come to your rescue." The man struck by the teacup glared at Yvette, a dark thought forming in his mind.
Rory led Yvette toward a dilapidated house. Even from a distance, agonized screams filled the air.
Yvette's expression remained cold and unreadable, an air of detachment surrounding her.
Rory ordered her men to open the door. Inside, a grim sight awaited them: men and women crammed into cages, their bodies covered in lash marks and bite wounds.
Sunlight illuminated the prisoners' pale, despairing faces; some were so badly beaten their flesh had rotted.
Rory stared, her fury rising as she realized the mistreatment these people had endured even before reaching Dungo Village. In a rage, she roared, "What happened to these people?"