Chapter 39

Marina Shores Village was just an hour’s drive away from Stonebridge City, tucked away in the countryside. But Frederick, with his foot heavy on the gas, made it there in less than half an hour.

By sunset, the village was filled with the salty, fishy scent of the sea breeze.

Robert held his breath, but Frederick’s was dark and grim. His gaze landed on an old, dilapidated warehouse surrounded by thorny bushes.

Wincing through the pain, Frederick pushed his way through the bushes, heading straight for the warehouse pinpointed in Google Maps.

Each step he took felt heavier than the last.

The stench from the surrounding dump was so bad that it had Robert following behind him sneezing like crazy.

With his nose covered, Robert could barely hide his anger. “Who on earth did Marguerite piss off? Who would go so far as to dump her here? This is just sick!”

Just then, there was a shabby and dirty beggar, and his hair was all over the place. He sat in the pile of garbage gnawing on moldy bread. Seeing Frederick and Robert approaching, he picked up a steel pipe and began to menacingly stride towards them.

“This is my turf. Who the hell are you guys?”

Robert was taken aback. “Is this guy out of his mind?”

Before he had even finished his sentence, the beggar was swinging the steel pipe at them. Frederick dodged swiftly. Caught off guard, Robert was forced to block the incoming pipe with his hand.

Frederick shot a glance at the situation. “You handle this guy, and I’ll go find Marguerite!”

With pressure mounting, Robert was livid. “Frederick, make it quick! This guy is stronger than he looks!”

in a struggle with

the darkness, revealing a flurry of moths and bats that fluttered around before disappearing into the

face was grimmer than before as

eerily silent, with

in, the light grew dimmer. He pulled out his

bulging bag hinted at a vague human shape inside,

thinking, “Oh my God!

he rushed over and opened the

barely breathing and was cold

Then he undid the ropes around her hands and feet,

breath was faint and she remained unconscious, unable

it over Marguerite’s frail body. Then he gently picked her up. He dashed towards

just pulled up through the bushes. Sporting

as he opened

and the engine roared to life as the

beggar emerged from somewhere with a string of firecrackers in his hand. He threw them at the car with a manic grin

under the car, and

and the dim streetlights illuminated Marguerite’s bruised and

looked at her face. While gently touching her wounds, his hand was

the gut, leaving him with a

Who had she offended?

audacity to not only hurt her but to tie her

thought of the beggar in the

Could it be him?

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