hapter 18
The car sped back to the hotel from earlier. A group of people was already waiting outside the hotel.
visible.
front stood a man with a cleanly shaven buzz cut and stem face. The tattoos on his neck were faintly
When he saw Wilson, he gave a slight nod. “Good evening, Mr. Quade.”
Wilson responded with a faint acknowledgment before striding into the hotel, his long legs moving with purpose. The group followed in silent unison.
Inside, the hotel lobby was empty of other guests, leaving only the visibly anxious hotel manager, John Langford, standing by the entrance.
“Mr. Quade, we’ve cleared everyone out as you requested, but-”
“Understood,” Wilson Interrupted. “Record the losses under my account. Someone will contact you later.”
His gaze swept over John. It was a calm, indifferent look that still carried an edge sharp enough to make the man shiver.
John quickly nodded. “Rest assured, sir. Not a word of tonight’s events will leave this building.”
Wilson shifted his attention away and stepped into the elevator. He returned to the previous floor following the same route as before.
The atmosphere in Michael’s private room was lively, with people drinking and laughing loudly. Then, there was a thunderous bang.
The door to the room was kicked open, and Michael shot to his feet in fury. “Who the hell dares-
Before he could finish, a figure lunged forward, knocking down the two bodyguards beside him. A hand grabbed his hair and slammed his head hard against the table in an instant.
Michael let out a pained scream. Before he could process what was happening, his head was yanked up again, and a sharp military knife was pressed against his throat.
The entire scene unfolded in mere seconds. By the time everyone in the room registered what had happened, Michael’s face was already covered in blood.
Then, a group of around ten people entered the room. At the forefront stood a man with an air of authority and elegance–Wilson.
“Wilson, what’s the meaning of this?” Michael croaked. His neck was stiff as he locked his bloodshot gaze on Wilson.
Nonetheless, Wilson didn’t acknowledge him.
A bodyguard placed a chair in the center of the room. Wilson then sat down, crossing his legs slightly while leaning back with a look of complete dominance.
“Mr. Carter, sitting so far away doesn’t make for good conversation. Come closer.”
With that, one of Wilson’s men, Kayden Hill, dragged Michael forward and tossed him to the ground at Wilson’s feet. When Michael tried to stand, Kayden delivered a swift kick, forcing him to his knees with a thud.
Someone in the room couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Wilson, do you really think we’re just going to sit here and take this? You-”
“Ugh, so noisy,” Wilson nattered with a trace of impatience.
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Before the man could finish, one of Wilson’s bodyguards landed a heavy punch on his face. He grabbed him by the neck and dragged him out of the room.
The tension in the room exploded. Others looked ready to act, but that was when Wilson pulled out a silver gun.
The room fell silent almost instantly.
Wilson stared coldly at Michael in front of him. “Mr. Cattery care to explain what you meant by spiking my assistant’s drink?”
Michael let out a twisted grin. “It was just a joke. Can’t take one?
“How was it? That stuff is potent, isn’t it? That woman looks so cold and untouchable–no ordinary man could handle her once she gets going. Did you enjoy yourself?”
Wilson’s dark eyes grew colder, but he didn’t respond. Just then, Michael’s expression turned vicious.
“You took her with you, had your fun, and now you pulled this stunt instead of thanking me? Wilson Quade, you fucking let me go right now, you bastard!”
“Mr. Carter, I appreciate a man who stands by his actions. It’s admirable.” Wilson’s tone remained calm.
He gave a small signal to Kayden, who released Michael’s hair. Michael staggered to his feet, cursing. “All for a fucking woman, you-”
Just then, a gunshot rang out. The silver pistol in Wilson’s Hand was aimed directly at Michael’s groin.
Michael let out a blood–curdling scream, clutching his crotch as blood poured through his fingers and onto the table. “Ah! Wilson Quade, you son of a bitch!”
He tried to lunge forward, but Wilson’s eyes turned icy. He stood abruptly, smashing the butt of his gun into Michael’s jaw.
A few teeth flew out, and Michael’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed, unconscious on the ground.
“Getting old, aren’t you? Couldn’t even take one hit,” Wilson remarked casually.
He grabbed a napkin from the table and wiped the blood off his hands. A few drops had splattered on his pale face. It gave his sharp, handsome features an unsettling, almost sinister beauty.
When he finished, he tossed the bloodstained napkin onto Michael’s motionless body. Placing a cigarette between his lips, he waited for Kayden to light it for him.
Wilson exhaled a puff of smoke, and the haze briefly obscured his striking face. “Anyone else have something to Say?
Silence filled the room.
Wilson smirked faintly and shifted his gaze to Reynold Lee
Reynold, weren’t you the one laughing earlier while calling me a bastard?”
“N–No! I was wrong. I spoke without thinking-” Reynold stammered as he dropped to his knees.
“And you, Mr. Dawn, did you say that I fought for scraps? You’re 50 now. How can a man your age still speak without using his brain? Or do you think I’m so kind–hearted I’ll show you respect for being old?”
Zachary Dawn’s lips trembled as he said, “Wilson, I drank too much and spoke nonsense earlier. Please, don’t take
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Chapter 10
it to heart…”
Wilson scoffed. “None of you have grown even a little after all these years.”
He flicked the ash from his cigarette, letting it fall onto Zachary’s face. The man didn’t dare flinch. “Tomorrow, all of you will go to Macer to manage the casinos there.”
No one dared to object, but someone hesitantly asked, “What about our families?”
“You’re old acquaintances. Your families will stay here, and I’ll take care of them. You can focus on working for me without distractions.”
The group paled instantly. Their families staying behind meant Wilson was holding them firmly by the throat. They wouldn’t dare utter a single word of dissent from now on
The next morning, Serena woke up groggily, and her body was covered in sticky sweat. She shifted slightly but froze when she felt someone beside her.
Her body stiffened, and memories of the previous night flooded back. Her mind buzzed as panic surged.
Did she lose control after falling asleep and ended up with Wilson Quade?
