Chapter 1199:

His soldiers advanced on her with grim determination. Elyse shook her head frantically and tried to run, but they seized her arms and dragged her back to the center of the room.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she begged desperately. “No, Your Grace, I swear I didn’t tell her anything! She figured it out on her own. I never said a single word about Wesley. I helped you, remember? You can’t do this to me. Please don’t cut out my tongue…”

Elyse completely fell apart, her entire body shaking as she sobbed like a broken woman. She had fed Torin all the crucial secrets he needed to plot against Wesley. Without her inside information, Torin never would have been able to outmatch Wesley so quickly and easily. And now, having served her purpose and outlived her usefulness, he was ready to discard her like garbage.

Torin’s face grew even darker, his presence more menacing than ever. “What the hell are you standing around for?”

The soldiers seized Elyse with rough hands and, in one swift motion, cut out her tongue. Overwhelmed, she collapsed into unconsciousness.

Every guest in the room stood perfectly still, too terrified to move or even breathe, each one fearing for their own life.

Meanwhile, miles away at sea, Elena had no idea that Torin had just turned Lord Rosethorne’s birthday party into a bloodbath for her sake.

The supply ship finally arrived, and Lance immediately ordered the crew to refill the fuel tanks.

Once refueled, the supply ship departed, and they set off again.

“Thank God the Gaxora hasn’t gone too far yet,” Lance said. “El, just wait—I’m catching up.”

He pushed the engines to full power, sending the boat racing faster and faster as they drew closer to the Gaxora.

The seawater rolled and crashed around them, salty spray flying across the deck each time the wind picked up.

Inside one of the rooms on the fourth deck of the massive ship known as the Gaxora, Wesley was having his bullet wound cleaned and re-dressed.

Your imagination begins with gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s﹒ç𝗈𝗺

The ship’s doctor carefully peeled away the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around Wesley’s waist. The damaged flesh had turned a sickly purple, the edges of the skin pulled outward to expose white bone and raw red muscle beneath, with fresh blood still leaking in a steady stream.

The doctor’s expression grew grim as he examined the injury. “That bullet was laced with poison. That’s why your wound still hasn’t healed, even though we removed the bullet. If you hadn’t taken that dietary supplement, you would’ve bled to death hours ago.”

In all his years of practice, the doctor had never encountered a case quite like this. With steady hands, he cut away the dead, rotting flesh around the wound and spread fresh ointment over the raw tissue. “Listen, you need to stay in this bed. Don’t even think about moving around. At least wait until the bleeding stops before you try to stand,” he said firmly.

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