In the dungeon, Clark, guided by James, entered a cell. The dim light revealed a girl sitting in the corner, her hair scattered like wild grass-long, thick, resembling seaweed.
No doubt, with a little care, that hair could look stunning. Fed up with approaching footsteps, the girl snapped, "How many times do I have to say it? I haven't been in touch with my grandpa for ages. Even if you beat me to death, I won't tell you where he is!"
Feisty temperament! Clark smirked slightly. "Young lady, I'm not here to inquire about your grandpa; I'm here to visit you."
Madilyn lifted her head, glancing at Clark. The man looked handsome in a well-fitted white shirt and black trousers, his bright blue eyes shimmering in the light. A young, handsome guy like him seemed out of place in this filthy, dim dungeon. On the other hand, James, covered in intimidating tattoos, muscular enough to kill with a punch, looked more the part.
He even engraved "whore" on her back! Thinking about the wound, Madilyn grew irritated. If it weren't for her... Madilyn mused, an ordinary girl might have fainted from the pain.
Was this man their leader? He looked good, but did nothing useful. Madilyn eyed Clark warily.
Her gaze, like a stray cat's, watched them vigilantly. Clark chuckled and walked a few steps forward, finally stopping by the railing. Approaching a bit would allow him to observe Madilyn more closely.
He noticed her light brown eyes, reflecting sunlight on a lake, shimmering under the light. Her face was pale and dirty, yet one could see she was a beautiful girl. Her gaze held a mix of stubbornness and hidden fear.
Funny, for some reason, Clark thought of Isabella; she seemed somewhat similar. Clark turned to James. "Can we let her out?"
He liked this girl and thought Emanuele wouldn't mind if he took her away.
"No, the boss made it clear. You can look at her, but she can't leave the cell," James replied.
Clark frowned. "Troublesome! She's just a woman. What's the point? She doesn't seem capable of anything."
Look at those thin, delicate arms; it felt like they would snap with a little force. Was Emanuele's concern unnecessary?
"Mr. Campbell, a seemingly fragile woman might not shoot a gun, but it's quite simple for her to poison. The boss said, wouldn't you like to avoid a mysterious death in your sleep?" James repeated Emanuele's words sternly.
Clark gritted his teeth, looking at Madilyn once again-a fragile woman, yet he admitted Emanuele spoke the truth. Madilyn might appear weak, but deep down, she seemed resilient. A woman like her, even without a gun, could be dangerous if she knew how to poison.
Like they once heard, one of their enemies fell for a prostitute. That seemingly delicate woman poisoned him during their intimate encounter. In reality, such occurrences are common; leaders of their mafia need to be cautious, as many attempt to exploit women to lower their guard, leading to successful assassinations.
"It's okay; I can wait. Once Emanuele captures Frederick, she'll be mine. Until then, I hope you won't harm her," Clark said, preparing to leave.
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