Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 205

Chapter 205 Twin Showdown

Chapter 205 Twin Showdown

“It’s meant to calm the mind.” Quentin handed her the spoon.

Margaret took a sip. The temperature was just right.

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Every time she watched Quentin-a man of few words, a cold-blooded killer-standing over a stove, it felt surreal. But she couldn’t deny his cooking was good..

Quentin watched her drink, then slid a compact particle pistol across the table toward her hand.

“I modified it.” He pointed at the grip. “Low recoil, high penetration. Good for close-range defense.”

Margaret set down her spoon and picked up the weapon. It was startlingly light. The grip had been wrapped in a soft anti-slip polymer, the dimensions perfectly matched to her hand.

“Thanks.” She tucked the pistol away, a faint smile touching her eyes.

Tyrone pulled out a chair and dropped into the seat beside her, chin propped on his hand, clearly enjoying himself. “Quentin, you’re giving Ms. Greene a gun and not me? Prime Planet’s a warzone. I could use some protection too.”

Quentin shot him a cold look. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll come haul what’s left of you back.”

Tyrone clicked his tongue and turned to Margaret. “Ms. Greene, you see this? Absolutely no brotherly love.”

Margaret ignored the two of them and went back to her soup.

After the meal, Tyrone spread a holographic map of Prime Planet across the table. Blue light traced the capital’s intricate web-the palace, the Cabinet, the starport, military headquarters. Every piece of the capital’s political chessboard was laid bare before them.

“Cheiron’s still en route. That leaves us a three-day window.” Tyrone tapped Central Hospital. “Once he arrives and takes over Lesley’s medical team, it’s our best shot at slipping operatives into the palace.”

Margaret studied the map, her fingers drumming lightly on the table’s edge. “Use the next few days to run deep dives on the remaining cabinet ministers. With the City Defense forces cut in half, they’re circling the wagons. They’ve still got private forces tucked away somewhere.”

“Divide them.” Her thinking was sharp and clear. “Everyone has a weakness. Look into their holdings, their off-book dealings. I want to see cracks forming between them before I even set foot on Prime Planet.”

“Understood. Tyrone’s fingers flew across the holographic interface.

Mid-operation, the back of his hand brushed against Margaret’s fingers. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his wrist and let the pad of his thumb graze lightly across her palm-barely a touch, but unmistakably deliberate.

Margaret looked at him. Tyrone blinked, the picture of innocence, “Static electricity.”

She pulled her hand back and let the flimsy excuse stand without comment.

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13.1 Mon,

Chapter 205 Twin Showdown

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Across the table. Quentin stopped wiping his blade. He rose, walked over to Margaret, and set a freshly poured glass of water beside her.

He stood close-close enough that the crisp, cold scent of cedar clung to his combat gear. When he set the glass down, his fingers pressed deliberately over the back of her hand, holding there for two full seconds before he let go.

That done. Quentin turned his expressionless gaze toward Tyrone.

Crimson eyes locked with green in a silent, charged standoff.

Margaret held her water glass and glanced from one to the other.

They work together like a well-oiled machine most of the time. So what’s this? Fighting over me?

Primo was screaming in her head, “AAAAHHH! Host! Twin showdown! Tyrone’s the scheming, slippery type and Quentin’s the all-out, no-holds-barred type. This is too much! Can you even handle this?!”

“You only ever get this excited about my love life,” Margaret shot back silently, pushing down the strange flutter in her chest.

She watched the two of them jockeying for her attention, and she had to admit-it didn’t feel bad at all.

“Alright, that’s enough for tonight.” She stood and shut off the holographic map. “We wait for Cheiron’s update. Get some rest.”

Tyrone rose with her, leaning against the table’s edge. “Ms. Greene, given all the recent threats, have you considered close-quarters protection?”

Margaret glanced back. “How close are we talking?”

“Same room, for instance.” Tyrone smiled. “I’m a light sleeper. I guarantee not even a mosquito gets through.”

Margaret let out a short laugh. “You’re more dangerous than any mosquito.”

She turned, walked to her bedroom, and closed the door with crisp finality.

Outside, Tyrone took the rejection in stride. He hummed a tuneless melody and began gathering the scattered files from the table.

Quentin remained where he stood, staring at Margaret’s closed door. He glanced down at the particle blade in his hand.

Close-quarters protection? Now that’s a solid idea.

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