Chapter 552:
The factory stood deserted on the outskirts of Crolens.
Just as she retrieved the motorcycle keys from her drawer, a call from Brad came through.
“Where are you heading?” His tone was low, carrying a note of concern. “Don’t go off by yourself. I’ll arrange for someone to take care of Zander’s matter.”
Rylie hesitated for a moment. “How do you know about it?”
Brad answered, “Rory has my number. He was worried you might get into trouble and asked me to take care of it.”
“There’s no need,” Rylie responded evenly. “I can deal with it on my own. Let’s keep our distance.”
She remained unaware of the quiet resentment that had taken root toward Brad, born from what he had said—”I want you to stay away from me.” Once the call ended, Rylie swung onto her motorcycle and roared onto the highway, making straight for the factory on the outskirts.
Brad, looking at the ended call, felt a sinking feeling in his heart. He immediately dialed another number. “I need to know Rylie’s location right now.”
On the other end, a hacker sat with a bowl of instant noodles in hand, chewing noisily as he followed the instructions. “The first thing you have us do after bringing us back online is track some young woman?”
Brad’s voice cut in sharply. “Quit the chatter.”
Setting the bowl aside, the hacker replied, “I’ll need to scan the city surveillance.” A minute later, a curious note entered his tone. “Crolens’ city firewall has really fallen apart. Someone breached it about five minutes ago. Let me pinpoint the source…”
Two minutes passed before he spoke again, his voice tinged with interest. “Boss, the one you’re after is heading toward the outskirts of Crolens. I’ll forward the coordinates. Oddly enough, the last intruder left behind a residual search marker.”
Brad’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
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The man answered, “It appears this young woman is a skilled hacker herself.”
Brad paused, a faint, unexpected smile curving his lips. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
Inside the dim, abandoned factory, Zander was shoved hard into a frigid metal chair. His eyes burned with a mixture of shame and fury.
“Let me go! I’ll give you whatever you want!” he shouted, his voice muffled but full of desperation.
A man dressed like a laborer stepped forward, speaking in a dialect Zander instantly recognized from his own hometown. “In our business, integrity is everything. You crossed the wrong person. You became an obstacle to their future.”
Beside him, a burly man brushed his fingers across Zander’s face, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Gag him and sell him overseas. That’s even better than trafficking kids! Look at that face. He’s a celebrity. Plenty of influential people have a taste for this kind.”
The men’s expressions brimmed with unhidden malice and the thrill of impending victory. “Let’s get it done.”
The burly man twisted open the cap of a glass bottle, releasing an acrid stench of concentrated acid into the air.
Zander’s pupils constricted as he fought against his restraints, the chair legs screeching sharply across the concrete floor. Two thugs pinned him in place, wrenching his head back and exposing his throat to the deadly liquid in the burly man’s grasp.
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