Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 187

Chapter 187 It Was A Partnership

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That catalyst drug Phoebe used back then-it came from the black market, too.

The top rulers of the entire black market were sitting in the same car as them. Given Cheiron’s personality. she’d expected at least a few sharp, sarcastic remarks-if not him drawing his gun right then and there.

But he was sitting there completely calm, like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Hey.” Margaret nudged Cheiron with her elbow. “You asleep?”

Cheiron turned his head. His gray eyes, visible behind his glasses, were clear and alert. “No.”

“Then why are you being so quiet about it?” Margaret leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “That guy up front, and the one right here-they run the whole black market. All those labs you led teams to shut down? They were their operations. You’d think running into your enemies would get more of a reaction out of you.”

Cheiron glanced at Tyrone in the passenger seat, his tone flat. “Don’t bother whispering. He can hear you.”

Tyrone playfully held up one hand and waved. “Loud and clear, Ms. Greene.”

Margaret rolled her eyes. “Cut the small talk. We’ve got real stuff to discuss.”

Cheiron pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his voice steady as ever. “I know who they are.”

“What?” Margaret froze, caught off guard.

“Or more accurately, we’ve communicated before, but we never met in person,” Cheiron explained. “I have a private intel source on the dark web-goes by the codename Waybearer. The intel I used to take down that underground lab? I bought it from them.”

He paused, his gaze flicking over to Tyrone. “When I heard someone call him Master back there, I put two and two together.”

Margaret’s mind raced. A few seconds later, she stared at Tyrone in disbelief. “You sold intel on your own underground labs to the head of Central Hospital? Why would you do that? Throwing your own people under the bus just to hit some end-of-year quota?”

Tyrone chuckled and shifted into a more comfortable position, “Ms. Greene, the black market runs on its own set of rules.”

The smile faded a little from his face, replaced by the cold edge of someone in charge. “Selling party drugs, moving regular weapons-that’s business, Supply and demand. But some of the guys below me got greedy. They went behind my back and teamed up with Harold’s crew. Started running those live beastmen gene fusion experiments.”

She could hear the clear disgust in his voice as he went on, “They made those half-beastman, half- insectoid abominations. Messed with the ecosystem and broke every rule the Senro Pavilion stands for. That’s not business-that’s ruining it for everyone.”

Quentin, who hadn’t spoken this whole time, spat out a single cold word from his corner. “Filthy.”

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Chapter 187 It Was A Partnership

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“Exactly. Filthy.” Tyrone nodded in agreement. “We run a black market, not a garbage dump. If they can’t follow the rules, why not use Mr Jewett to clean house? I make a killing on the intel fee on top of it. Win- win-why wouldn’t I do it?”

Margaret sat quietly for a long moment after hearing that, pharahhh

She glanced from the polite, mild-mannered Cheiron to Tyrone, all friendly smiles.

“You guys are all so scheming,” she remarked, matter-of-fact. “Every last one of you is more ruthless than

the next.”

Cheiron didn’t confirm or deny it. “We both got what we needed. And back then, I had no idea Waybearer was the head of the black market. I just assumed it was some internal power struggle over profits.”

“So you two have been secretly seeing each other this whole time?” Margaret summed it up.

“It was a partnership, Cheiron corrected her.

“Fine. Partnership.” Margaret leaned back, too tired to nitpick over semantics.

At the end of the day, they were all on the same side now. Greven was dead, and Prime Planet was probably already descending into chaos. She needed the black market’s intel network right now-and she needed Cheiron’s brain, too.

The car rumbled down the flagstone road and through the gates of a huge, sprawling estate.

The main gate stood wide open. There were no guards-just two sleek robotic hounds sunning themselves on the stone steps. When they heard the car, they just lifted their eyelids lazily for a second, then went back to napping.

When the car came to a stop, the driver opened the door.

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