Chapter 50 Delivered to His Bed
Chapter 50 Delivered to His Bed
“Very good.” Mandy smiled and nodded. The server uncorked the bottle right there, poured wine into three glasses—for Mandy, Helen, and Sloane—and then quietly exited the room.
“Come on, let’s toast to the Madam,” Helen said, lifting her glass. “To thank her for being willing to lend a hand.” She motioned for Sloane to follow her lead.
Sloane saw the bottle had been opened on the spot, so she picked up her glass and clinked it with theirs.
Their glasses met with a soft chime. Sloane took another small sip. The wine spread across her tongue with its usual tartness–then came a sharp, bitter aftertaste that didn’t belong.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, a faint glint flickering in their depths.
Without a word, Sloane set her glass down.
Helen and Mandy kept chatting, but Sloane found her vision growing hazy. The next moment, her body slumped forward onto the table.
Helen and Mandy exchanged a satisfied glance.
“She must’ve had too much,” Mandy said calmly. “Help her to one of the rooms so
she can rest.”
“Got it.” Helen quickly stood and supported Sloane as she led her out of the private
room.
Mandy, completely unfazed, walked out of the hotel.
In the darkness, Sloane’s eyes suddenly snapped open. She flipped up from the bed in one swift motion.
The dim light revealed the room’s lavish furnishings–clearly the presidential suite
of a hotel.
She’d known the wine was tampered with the moment it touched her tongue. Since all three of them had drunk from the same bottle, and she was the only one
affected, the problem could only have been on her glass.
Sloane let out a cold laugh. They really went all out to drug me.
But what was their endgame? Why go this far together? What were they trying to pull?
Click. The lock gave a soft sound.
Footsteps echoed in the silence–steady, deliberate taps of dress shoes on tile.
From the sound alone, Sloane could tell it was a young man.
The steps paused just beyond the threshold. Then, with a low creak, the door opened.
She timed it perfectly, her body a blur as she lunged at the shadow in the doorway.
But the man was prepared. He sidestepped her effortlessly, spun, and countered with a sharp chop toward her neck.
Sloane arched back like a bow, narrowly avoiding the strike with a graceful twist.
In the dark, their bodies moved like streaks of shadow, fists slicing through the air. Sloane was stunned. The man’s movements were fast, aggressive, and sharp. Every strike was precise and ruthless. He’s highly trained.
The shadow was equally surprised. He hadn’t expected the room’s occupant to have such speed and skill. Her fighting was controlled, fast, and lethal.
They traded blows in a flurry–each seeking an opening.
At last, they both struck at the same moment, each hand closing around the other’s throat.
Caught in a deadlock, Sloane’s ring shifted slightly–releasing a hidden needle with a faint metallic click.
In the faint glow from the hallway, the man caught the glint of the blade. Alarmed, he blurted out her name. “Sloane?”
Her eyes widened at the familiar voice. “Lucas?”
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