Margaret Tucker AKA Lord Reaper novel Chapter 134

Nichole stood up cheerfully and headed for the courtyard. Matthew followed her, his expression tight.

They reached the main entrance.

Outside, a white Lamborghini stood out sharply in the dim light.

The rain had stopped.

Raymond was lounging in his sports car with the sunroof slid closed, a cigarette between his fingers. He smoked with a careless, cool ease.

When he saw them coming, he showed no reaction—just kept smoking, ignoring them completely.

Raymond's indifference made Matthew's face darken, but he didn't dare snap at him. He swallowed his anger, which only made him look more sour.

Nichole put on a warm, eager smile. "Raymond, it's been so long since you came home for dinner. We've missed you."

Raymond acted like he hadn't heard her. He kept smoking, his face blank.

He didn't even glance her way.

Nichole's smile froze. She forced a light laugh to cover the awkwardness. "Well—where's Clara? It's so late, you really didn't have to drive her back."

Raymond finished half the cigarette, exhaled slowly, then finally glanced toward a bodyguard dressed in black. "Toss her out."

"Yes, sir."

The bodyguard opened the door of a black sedan and pulled out a burlap sack.

Nichole and Matthew stared, confused.

What is Raymond doing?

Thud!

The bodyguard threw the sack heavily onto the ground. It sounded like there was something—or someone—inside.

Matthew frowned. "What is this?"

Raymond took one last drag, then flicked the cigarette butt. It sailed through the air and landed neatly in a trash can several yards away.

The move was effortlessly cool.

Only then did Raymond look at Matthew. A rebellious smirk touched his handsome face. "Open it and see."

Beside him, Nichole seemed to guess what was inside. Her face went pale. Panic shot through her.

No... It couldn't be.

She walked slowly to the sack, crouched down, and reached out to touch it.

Then her expression changed completely.

Her whole body trembled.

They're all crazy. Every last Tucker is crazy.

Raymond used to be such a good kid, always listening to me. But now? The older he gets, the more he blows me off—just like his brothers!

Hearing that Margaret had been missing for days, Raymond frowned deeply. Where did she go?

Just then, bright headlights cut through the dark.

Everyone looked.

A long black limousine pulled up slowly by the roadside.

Inside the car, Andrew sat in his wheelchair, his handsome face full of unwillingness. He held Margaret's hand tightly, his voice low and rough. "Why go home? Isn't it better to stay with me?"

Margaret looked back at him steadily.

Her gaze dropped to his hand, clutching the corner of her clothes. One by one, she pried his fingers loose.

As she freed herself, Andrew's eyes darkened—cold anger swirling in them.

"Don't push your luck."

Other women threw themselves at him. Only she acted like he didn't matter.

Margaret's face was calm, almost detached. "I have things to do."

She was Reaper, an assassin. She had blood debts to settle. She couldn't afford to lose herself with a man.

Seeing his stormy expression, she thought for a moment, then added quietly, "Don't worry. When I need your blood again, I'll come find you."