Rebirth Snatching Back My Stolen Luck novel Chapter 91

If I had even the slimmest chance to escape this room, it was now.

If I could make a sound… draw the staff’s attention to me… maybe that chance would come.

The problem was, Brandon’s drug had stripped me of nearly all my strength.

My limbs felt like lead, my chest heavy.

Still, my eyes glinted with resolve.

Sometimes the human will outweighs the body. If the intention is strong enough, it can push past physical limits.

I scanned the room. My gaze landed on the decorative vase perched on the coffee table before me.

Perfect.

Glancing at Brandon–his back half–turned as he hovered near the door–I gathered what little strength I had, and in one desperate burst, kicked out with

The vase toppled, and hit the floor with a shattering crash.

I slumped back, utterly drained.

my foot.

But the startled snap of Brandon’s head and the sharp exclamation outside told me it was worth it.

“Mr. Scott, what was that? Did something fall?” The staff’s voice rang with urgency and concern through the door. “Are you hurt? Please hold on, I’ll call security and medical right away.”

My heart gave a sudden jolt.

Those words sounded perfectly ordinary–but the tone… it carried a faint, almost familiar air.

Like the way Claire sounded when she was putting on an act.

Was I imagining it? A side effect of watching her little performances one too many times?

Or… could it be?

Dean was right outside? And this was part of his plan?

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Chapter 91

My pulse stumbled, then quickened.

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Brandon, oblivious to my racing thoughts, shot me a glare–yet his expression shifted the moment the stall spoke again.

His eyes flickered, calculation flashing in them as he slid his phone back into his pocket.

Figures.

Instead of calling Claire to confirm the order, he needed to handle the situation at hand. If management came storming in and found me drugged on the sofa, his plan would collapse instantly.

He couldn’t risk it.

But with one staff member, there was room to maneuver. He could crack the door open, wave off the crash as nothing but a clumsy accident. As for the special order Claire supposedly requested, if it was there, he could accept it on the spot. If not, he could make up an excuse and ask them to bring it later.

Crisis averted.

Any smart man would know which path to take.

Sure enough, Brandon relented, “Wait a minute.”

Then reluctantly, he unlocked the door and cracked it open.

My heart leapt into my throat as my eyes fixed on that sliver of space.

Would it be him?

Even if it was, I readied myself.

Gathering what pitiful strength I had left, I prepared to scream.

“There’s nothing wrong-” Brandon began, his voice clipped. But the next instant, his expression changed.

His

eyes widened, panic flaring in them and then, he tried to slam the door shut.

Too late.

A dark figure forced the door wide and came in.

Dean.

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It really was him

The relief that flooded through me was so overwhelming that my eyes stung.

He came for me.

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Our gazes locked, and for the first time since I’d known him, I saw a feral, murderous gleam in his

eyes.

And when he caught sight of me looking pale and unwell, it erupted.

“I’m fine,” I mouthed, trying to soothe him.

It backfired.

In the next breath, his fist smashed into Brandon’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Dean didn’t stop at that. He straddled him, his fists raining down with a force that made my

stomach lurch.

Brandon barely resisted–or maybe he didn’t even try, knowing it was already over for him.

Blood spattered. Brandon’s head snapped to the side and back.

Again and again.

“Stop it, Dean!” My voice cracked out of me in a rush of panic. “You’ll kill him!”

In my desperation, I bolted upright–but my body betrayed me. I stumbled, collapsing onto the carpet.

“Elise!” Dean’s voice broke, raw with fear.

The next thing I knew, he had rushed to my side, his arms around me, holding me against him.

“Are

you

hurt? Tell me–are you okay?” His voice trembled as much as his hands.

I met his red–rimmed eyes, filled with a mix of anxiety, fury and other complicated emotions, and all my words of reprimand died in my throat.

I had no strength left to speak anyway.

When I didn’t answer, his worry visibly deepened, then in one swift move, he swept me up in a princess carry and strode toward the door.

“I’ll take you to the hospital.”

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Chapter 91

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He paused only when we reached Brandon’s crumpled body. The man lay coughing blood, his lips twisted into a crazy, ghastly laugh.

Dean’s gaze hardened, his voice icing over. “Call the police and hand him over. I’ll deal with him later ”

The two men outside–one in a staff uniform, the other in a suit–nodded instantly.

Brandon’s laugh soon turned into a fit of wet coughs, blood staining his teeth.

Our eyes met briefly before I turned away.

Not because of pity, just disgust.

This was his end. His downfall was now set in stone.

Just then, Dean’s phone rang.

He shifted me in his arms, pulling it out with one hand.

I saw the Caller ID–Callum.

“Dean,” came his grave voice, “a group of reporters are heading for Cameron Hotel. Brandon’s behind it.”

My whole body trembled when I heard that.

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