Chapter 771 Prank

Hayley’s POV:

“We’ll take her elsewhere to deal with her,” the leader said with a flattering smile, speaking to Truman. “You won’t have to see a thing, sir. Rest assured.”

Truman sighed, his voice laced with regret. “The Hanovers… not a single one of them has a decent pair of eyes. How could I possibly feel reassured?”

“What do you mean?” The leader asked, catching a faint, unsettling shift in the air.

“You don’t need to know,” Truman muttered. His gaze turned dark. Without warning, he lifted his hand and drove it straight into the man’s face–two fingers jabbing viciously toward his eyes.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the alley.

The leader collapsed, clutching his bleeding face and thrashing on the ground.

“My eyes! My eyes! It hurts–someone help me! Please!”

“Boss!”

The rest of the rogues froze in fear. Then, panic-stricken, they bolted in all directions.

Truman, unfazed, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and calmly wiped his hand as he spoke, his voice steady and sharp. “Tell Quentin this–if he ever dares to come after Hayley again, the next pair of eyes I take will be his.”

“Get lost!” he roared.

The leader quickly shifted into his wolf form and ran off.

I clapped my hands lightly, ready to leave. The problem had been neatly handled–too easily, in fact.

But just as I turned to go, I heard a dull thud behind me.

I spun around and saw Truman slumped against the wall, unconscious.

He was fine just a moment ago. Was he faking it again?

I walked over cautiously and looked him over. “If I’m not mistaken,” I said dryly, “you only took a single swipe from that wolf’s claws. And you’re already out? Is this how good you are?”

Sweat glistened on Truman’s forehead. He forced a weak smile. “You’ll only know how good I am yourself, Ms. Carson.”

And with that, his head tilted to the side, and he passed out completely.

I stared at him, speechless.

But I sharply sensed something was off.

Truman was an alpha–the same level as me. Even if he hadn’t let his wolf take control, he still would have been able to take down those rogues with ease.

He should’ve had strong self-healing ability, especially from something as minor as a claw wound on the shoulder.

So why would he faint?

My eyes narrowed. I crouched down, grabbed his wrist, and checked him carefully.

After I examined him carefully, my heart sank.

No way! Truman had been poisoned with the same type of poison as Grandma.

And from what I could tell, it was the same high-concentration type Benjamin had been exposed to. Early stage, but serious.

I looked at Truman’s face. There was no resemblance to Benjamin at all. My heart was a mess.

Still, I called Hera and had her sniff him just to be sure. Nope–his scent was nothing like Benjamin’s either.

I racked my brain, but I couldn’t come up with any possible connection between the two.

In the end, I sighed and hoisted Truman onto my back.

Not because I liked the guy. But tonight, he’d helped me.

And deep down, I hoped that if one day Benjamin collapsed on the side of the road from the same poison, someone might stop to save him too.

Thankfully, Truman’s hotel key card matched mine–we were staying at the same hotel. No need for a detour.

Even so, with him being six-foot-three and built like a tank, getting him back wasn’t easy. I was already breaking a sweat by the time we reached the front steps.

As we reached the front steps, Truman stirred, his body swaying slightly.

His head tilted forward, and the first thing he saw was my shoes. He immediately realized it was me holding him up.

The corner of his mouth curled up in smug satisfaction. Then, just as we reached the last step, he deliberately hooked his foot behind the edge.

Caught off guard, I lost my balance, and our bodies suddenly jerked apart. Truman, still pretending to be unconscious, was about to fall forward face-first.

I instinctively shot out an arm and caught him, pulling him back in before he could hit the ground. We went from shoulder-to-shoulder support to an awkward, face-to-face embrace.

Truman leaned his entire weight into me, not even pretending to hold himself up, looking smug as ever with that ridiculous little prankster smile on his lips.

I was still relieved I hadn’t dropped him–until a hotel staff member walked by carrying a giant mirror. Curious, I turned to glance at it–and saw it all.

And right there, clear as day, I saw Truman’s smug, triumphant expression. My eyes narrowed dangerously.