That night there was silence in the upper portion of Greyson's house. The only sounds were the breathing of Max and Greyson, who were treating the injured girl along with the dead body, and the faint voices of the doctors treating the injured girl from inside.
Max was now starting to look a little dim and Greyson was thinking about something while fixing his eyes on the room door.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Lq08FMx66
Suddenly Max took a breath and said, "I am tired now. So long as the doctors are doing their work, I still have my very important work to do."
Greyson looked at him, moving his eyes away from the door and said,122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5wyAxQMqLA
"And he must be sleeping for a while, right?" Max smiled shamelessly and winked. 122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSFcQYia953
Greyson looked at him and said,
"Shameless man! You shot a girl and now you have to sleep. Stay here with dignity, or else I will shoot both your legs and throw you in front of the doctor. Then stay on bed for 3 to 4 months and keep sleeping throughout the day." Max, completely ignoring Greyson's threats, headed towards his room with the intention of sleeping, while Greyson gritted his teeth in anger behind him.
Max was right when he said that: Greyson was a spark...that only a breeze named "Max" could ignite.
After Max left, Greyson calmly pulled his phone from his pocket, his eyes narrowing as he walked purposefully toward his gun room.
Once inside, he shut the door with a soft click, ensuring no one could overhear. Moving to the window, he cautiously pulled back the curtain with two fingers, his sharp eyes scanning the quiet street outside.
He let out a deep, measured breath and moved over to the armrest of the sofa, sitting down with a sense of resolve settling over him. With a swift motion, he dialed a number, the ringing echoing in the silence.
The call picked up after only two rings, and the voice of the executive director of his agency came through—calm and collected, but there was an edge of urgency.
"I was just about to call you, Director. The update is that last night, we found some signs on the road leading into the jungle. It's possible that the girl went into the jungle to hide. I've informed the search team..." 122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ94TxDNKxBq
Before the director could continue, Greyson's voice cut through the line, sharp and unwavering. 122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVtSnCdRf05
"There’s no need to search for her anymore," he said, his tone cold, every word calculated.
"Tell the investigation team to focus on Augustus West's murder case. Have them investigate the area where his murder took place and report back to me as soon as possible."
His words hung in the air, final and unyielding, and he hung up, feeling the weight of the task ahead pressing down on him. The game was changing, and Greyson Blackwood always knew how to play it.
After ending the call, Greyson stood up and exited the room, heading straight to his bedroom.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡic2OAuZy1U
As he pushed the door open, his gaze immediately landed on Max, sprawled out awkwardly across his bed, snoring like a beast....... Greyson’s eyes trailed from Max’s sleepy, carefree face all the way down to his feet—and the moment he saw the shoes still on, his expression darkened.
With a burst of anger, he shoved the door open fully and stormed inside. Without a second thought, he grabbed Max by the ankles and yanked hard. With a loud thud, Max tumbled off the bed and landed on the floor, groaning in confusion.
He blinked around, disoriented, until his eyes met Greyson’s furious glare. Greyson didn’t even give him time to process before raising one of Max’s shoes and smacking him with it.
"How many damn times do I have to tell you not to sleep on my bed with your shoes on?! Are you a human or some kind of animal!?"
Greyson snapped, barely containing his rage.......Max, completely unfazed, stretched lazily, then placed the very same shoe under his head like a pillow. With a half-open eye, he muttered,
“Man, I swear, you must’ve descended from some cleaning god. You're obsessed with neatness like it’s a religion.”
And with that, he turned over and went right back to sleep.
Greyson, now ready to punch him square in the face, bent down—but just then, a knock on the door interrupted his wrath. He straightened up, took a deep breath to cool down, and went to answer it.
Opening the door, he found one of the doctors standing outside, his face serious.
"What’s the girl’s condition? And how long will it take for her leg to heal?"
Greyson asked while glancing toward the bedroom adjacent to his own—the room where the injured girl was being kept.
The doctor looked at Greyson for a moment, then asked cautiously,
“Has she been tortured?”
Greyson paused briefly, studying the doctor's expression before replying with a firm but calm tone,
“Whatever it is, don’t hesitate to tell me.”
The doctor gave him a quick, searching look and then began explaining,
“The bullet lodged in her leg—thankfully—it only struck the muscle. We were able to remove it successfully. Had it hit the bone, recovery would’ve taken much longer.
Aside from that leg, her other leg shows signs of deep bruising and swelling. There's also discoloration and severe scratches across her body.”...................He handed
Greyson a slip of paper. “We’ve done what was necessary and also given her a sedative to help her rest. These are her prescribed medications. But more than that, you’ll need to ensure she’s eating regularly and is cared for properly. She’s extremely weak.”
Greyson listened to every word carefully, nodding slightly. With a deep breath, he exhaled—part relief, part tension—and then, without saying much, called his servant and had the doctor dropped back home.
After the doctor left, Greyson quietly entered the room where the girl lay unconscious. He stood there for a moment, his gaze lingering on her pale, fragile form. Slowly, he pulled a chair beside the bed, sitting down with one arm resting on the armrest while the other hand curled into a loose fist against his lips. For a few long seconds, he simply stared at her—silent, contemplative.
Then, in a low voice barely above a whisper, he muttered,122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxq4rWhodSb
“So the hunter walked right into the prey’s path… Interesting. Miss Lena West, we finally meet. Now let’s see… are you the killer, or just another piece of this twisted puzzle?”
With that, he stood up, his expression unreadable, and stepped out of the room. He called out to the head maid, who arrived promptly.
“Someone will stay by her side at all times,” he instructed firmly. 122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmbZxXRa1Jl
“If she wakes up, I want to know immediately. And if she asks about me…Everyone in this house will tell her the same thing: I’m just a famous hunter. Nothing more.”
After giving his orders, his tone softened slightly as he added,
“Serve dinner. It’s getting late.”
Without waiting for a response, he walked back toward his bedroom, the weight of the day settling over him as he prepared to freshen up.122Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Jh99YIZyq
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"Speak. What's the update?"
The man seated at the far end of the dimly lit study tapped the ash from his cigar into the tray, leaned back in his chair, and asked in a cold, expressionless voice.
The morning light had yet to fully settle in, and the heavy curtains draped over the tall, old windows barely let in any of the weak dawn glow.
The shadows swallowed most of the room, and the man’s face remained hidden in the darkness. However, the silver nameplate on the table gleamed unmistakably, catching what little light there was—AUGUSTUS WEST, etched in bold, elegant letters. The voice on the other end of the call spoke promptly,
"Boss, through our agents embedded in the agency, we’ve learned that the girl’s trail leads toward the forest. We’ve stationed our men all around the area. As soon as we find her, I’ll inform you immediately."
The man in the chair closed his eyes, and with them still shut, simply replied,
"Fine."
He ended the call without another word. Turning his face slowly toward the window, he whispered into the silence,
"Where did you go… I will find you."
There was no rage in his voice, no sorrow—just a hollow, icy calm that made it nearly impossible to guess what truly lay behind his intentions.
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and then Add to home screen.