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Chapter_193
Yvette’s eyes narrowed slightly as she read through the message on her phone. The news about Fiona, the traitor, didn’t faze her. In fact, it only solidified her resolve. The pieces were falling into place, but she knew the game was far from over.
“Fiona,” she muttered under her breath. “What a fool.”
Flying Fish, still buzzing with energy from her earlier teasing, glanced at Yvette. “What’s up, boss?”
Yvette didn’t answer immediately, instead, her fingers tapped the screen of her phone before she pocketed it. “No one betrays me,” she said softly, but with a chilling certainty.
Charles, though weak and exhausted, noticed the shift in Yvette’s demeanor. She had always been calculating, but this? This was something else. It was cold, precise, and utterly terrifying.
He didn’t say anything, though. His mind was too clouded with the remnants of the toxin. He could barely keep his eyes open, let alone think clearly. But one thing was certain: if Yvette was involved, there was no way this was going to end in failure. She always had a plan.
Flying Fish was still on her feet, trying to make sense of the mood. “So, Fiona’s the rat, huh? No wonder she got thrown out of the lab. That girl’s got more issues than a library.”
Yvette didn’t respond, her eyes distant as she thought through the implications. She was already calculating the next steps, her mind sharp despite the circumstances. Fiona had betrayed her trust, and there would be consequences. There always were.
Meanwhile, back at the Goodman residence, Braydon had just hung up the phone after his conversation with Fiona. His expression was unreadable, but the air around him felt like it had turned to ice. He didn’t tolerate betrayal, and Fiona had just made a grave mistake.
He took a slow drag from his cigar, the smoke curling around him like a veil of danger. He was a man who rarely showed his emotions, but Fiona’s weakness—her inability to keep her end of the bargain—irritated him.
Carson, standing at attention, watched Braydon’s every move with a practiced eye. Carson had always been a man of discipline, one who understood the value of power and loyalty. He was Braydon’s right-hand man, and as such, he’d seen the rise and fall of many players in the game. But there was something about Yvette that intrigued him. She was not like the others. She was different. And Carson hated unpredictability.
“Charles was rescued yesterday,” Braydon said finally, his voice low, almost casual.
Carson raised an eyebrow, though his demeanor remained unchanged. “By someone Yvette sent,” Braydon continued, his gaze hardening. “She’s clearly still playing games.”
Carson nodded. “Charles is finished, boss. The No.7 Toxin will kill him before anyone can do anything about it. No one has the antidote, not even the Goodman pharmaceutical group.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Braydon’s lips as he exhaled another puff of cigar smoke. “I don’t care about Charles,” he said dismissively. “Let him rot. If Yvette wants to waste her time, that’s her problem. But Fiona…”
His voice trailed off, and Carson felt the subtle shift in Braydon’s mood. When Braydon mentioned Fiona, there was a flash of something darker in his eyes. A fire that wasn’t so easily extinguished. Braydon didn’t just punish betrayal; he made sure to burn it to the ground.
“Fiona’s got one chance,” Braydon said, his voice laced with menace. “She better make it count. If she doesn’t, I’ll have her end in a way that even she’ll wish she were never born.”
Carson didn’t need any further clarification. He had seen Braydon’s wrath before, and it was not something anyone would want to endure.
“I’ll take care of it,” Carson said, his tone matter-of-fact. “You have my word.”
As Carson turned to leave, Braydon’s voice stopped him. “And Carson…”
Carson paused, waiting.
Braydon’s eyes were steely as he looked at his subordinate. “Keep an eye on Yvette. She’s a wildcard. And wildcards… can be dangerous.”
Carson didn’t flinch. “Understood.”
Back in Yvette’s apartment, Charles was trying to pull himself together, the remnants of the poison still clawing at him. But something about Yvette’s presence, her unyielding force, made him feel like maybe he wasn’t entirely lost. Maybe there was a way out of this after all.
Flying Fish, sensing the shift in the mood, jumped to her feet. “Alright, Charles! Time to buck up. We’ve got a comeback to plan, and you’re gonna be the one making it happen. No more mopey leader crap. Blaze Hall’s reputation didn’t come from lying down and taking it.”
Charles, despite his pain, managed a weak chuckle. “Blaze Hall’s reputation…” He trailed off, his thoughts flickering back to his glory days when he had been in charge of it all. He was still that person in his mind, just not in the flesh anymore.
Yvette, still calm and collected, stood up, her eyes scanning the room as though calculating her next move. “Charles, you’re not finished yet. You may not be the leader of Blaze Hall anymore, but you’re still someone with value. You may have lost your position, but you haven’t lost your skills. You’re a survivor.”
Her words cut through the thick air, and for the first time since his rescue, Charles felt a spark of something—hope, maybe, or perhaps a deep-rooted desire to prove himself again.
But deep down, he knew something else was true: if he was going to survive, he would need Yvette more than ever.
“Yve,” Charles whispered, struggling to sit up. “What’s next?”
Yvette didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned toward the window, her gaze sweeping over the skyline of Mysonna. There was a storm coming, and she was already ready for it.
“We wait,” she said finally, her voice low and controlled. “The antidote will come tomorrow. After that, we’ll see if you’re worth saving, Charles.”
As the tension in the room thickened, Charles couldn’t help but wonder: was he really worth saving, or was Yvette simply playing the long game? Only time would tell.
