Chapter 421:

The card slipped from her fingers. It drifted down. Her hand caught the wooden cue just before it landed.

Ronan froze. His mouth moved without thinking. “That can’t be possible…”

How in the world did she do that?

Ronan stared at Rylie’s hand in pure horror. How could someone so small possess such terrifying strength?

Her eyes remained cold—almost bored.

She let out a mocking snort.

With a quick flick of her wrist, the cue stick sliced upward through the air with a sharp snap.

Then, in one fluid move, Rylie twisted her hand. A glint of steel flashed. A knife had appeared out of nowhere, darting straight toward his fingers.

The blade brushed his skin—cold, sharp—enough to make Ronan scream without thinking. His hand jerked back, releasing the cue stick.

The cue dropped with a dull thud onto the thick carpet.

Rylie now held the blade steady against his wrist, hovering where his hand had just been.

The edge kissed the thin skin. One press deeper, and it would slice through an artery.

Ronan froze. He couldn’t breathe. A chill crept up his spine like death whispering in his ear.

He looked at Rylie—so close, yet completely detached. She didn’t flinch. As if what she just did meant nothing. Like it was no more effort than brushing lint off her sleeve.

“My weapons aren’t for you to…” She paused, eyes narrowing at the tiny drop of blood on his wrist. Her voice turned ice-cold. “To cut out children’s organs and throw their bodies away like garbage.”

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Suddenly, the game room door burst open with a loud bang.

A towering figure filled the doorway. Tommy. The sharp scent of blood and gunpowder followed him in.

His single eye scanned the room. It stopped on Rylie, unharmed, then on Ronan—motionless, a blade still pressed to his wrist. Tommy’s hardened face softened. Awe flickered in his expression, giving way to admiration… and submission.

“I’ll take care of it. No need to dirty your hands,” he said.

“Alright.”

Rylie leaned back, casually lifting herself onto the pool table. She sat there, her legs swinging gently, as Tommy seized Ronan’s head and slammed it hard into the floor.

Thud after thud. Each one quieter than the last. Ronan’s cries grew weaker.

Rylie tossed the knife aside and crossed her legs. Her gaze moved past the mess on the floor and landed on the door. Marsha stood there—pale, shaking, a hand pressed to her lips. Their eyes met.

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