Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 391

Balthazar Beaufort turned to Cyril Ravenshire, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. No wonder the little wolf was so clear-headed.

Anthea was always looking to jump ship, but to botch a simple drugging was beyond pathetic.

Balthazar holstered his gun and fixed a dark stare on Vivienne Lexton. "Who stole the files from my computer?"

"Him!" Vivienne pointed at Cyril without a second's hesitation. "It was him. I had nothing to do with it. He stole a string of code, and he wouldn't even let me see it. Look, can we skip the chatting? Let's just do it!"

"I know why you kidnapped us, but let me tell you, if anything happens to me, my grandfather won't let it slide. You're just looking for some fun, so why risk your life?"

Balthazar weighed her words. He had originally planned to smuggle them back to Solenforth without a trace, but they were exposed before they even left the harbor. He had intended to have his fun and dispose of them, but this perfect little stand-in was proving too tempting to kill just yet.

Sensing his hesitation, Vivienne pressed her advantage. "My grandfather only cares about me. He couldn't give a damn if a bastard son lives or dies. Let me go, and you can do whatever you want with Cyril."

"Which one of you has the tracker?" Balthazar asked.

"Me." Vivienne tugged at her shoulder strap, her mind clouding as she pointed to the injection mark. "My grandfather was paranoid about my safety. He implanted a tracker in me when I was a kid. I'm the only one in the Ravenshire family who has one."

Balthazar stared at the needle mark on her arm, a playful glint in his eyes. "Why should I believe you?"

"Didn't I just say I'd go first?" Vivienne pleaded, her voice breathy. "Please, I feel like I'm going to explode. Incest is a family scandal. After tonight, even if you want him to, I won't let him return to the Ravenshire family alive. My grandfather adores me. I can never let him know what I did. You want him, right? With my help, my grandfather will never suspect you."

Balthazar considered this for a moment, then fully put his gun away. It was just a prop for intimidation anyway. If Vivienne tried anything, he could snap her neck with one hand.

The man licked his lips and released Vivienne's wrist. "If that's the case, let's do this together."

Granted her twisted reprieve, Vivienne threw herself at Cyril with ravenous desperation.

The man watched the two of them tangle on the bed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt with sadistic leisure.

Cyril kept his eyes squeezed shut, the veins on his hand bulging as he gripped the fruit knife hidden from view.

Just then, a pair of arms, pale and supple as snakes, slithered up his own. Cyril opened his eyes. Her wet, red-rimmed gaze was terrifyingly intense.

Her hand slipped into his palm, her soft fingertips weaving through his one by one.

"Don't fight me," she whispered, her voice a sultry, intoxicating lure.

Cyril stiffened.

His grip on the knife began to falter.