Margaret Tucker AKA Lord Reaper novel Chapter 154

These guys were total pros at this, no doubt about it.

They'd loiter at the ghetto entrance, scoping out folks who looked rich and easy to push around—especially girls. Those were the easiest marks for begging.

Right now, Margaret looked like nothing but a sitting duck to them!

This chick rolled up on a fancy motorcycle, all alone? Total perfect target.

So as soon as Margaret hopped off her bike, they swarmed her, ready to shake her down good.

Margaret froze, her brows knitting together.

They called it begging, but let's be real—if she said no, they were gonna rob her blind.

"Why should I give you guys money?"

The guys' faces dropped. This girl's eyes are straight-up terrifying!

A random chill ran down their spines.

They scowled, trying to bully the young girl into submission. "Cut the crap! Hand over the cash nicely, or you ain't leaving this spot."

They were sure she'd get scared!

From past experience, rich girls like her were total wimps.

A little scare, and they'd fork over the money without putting up a fight.

What they didn't know? Margaret was never a sheltered little princess!

Her sharp gaze sliced through the guys like a blade. She said coldly, "You got all your arms and legs—why the hell are you begging?"

Under her baseball cap was a face so pretty it could stop traffic.

But her eyes were icy, and right then, as she stared them down, there was a hint of murder in her glare.

The guys panicked. Her eyes were far too icy—one glance, and it felt like the Grim Reaper was breathing down their necks, sending chills down their spines.

"W-what are you talking about?"

The guys glanced at each other, then all puffed up with fake toughness. It was just one girl against all of them—how could they be scared of her?

Margaret looked at them and cracked a dangerous, twisted smile. "Usually, only folks who can't work beg. Since you love begging so much, I'll help you out—make you unable to work for good."

Her smile was eerie, creepy—like a dark girl straight out of hell.

The men's panic grew stronger.

This girl gave them the heebie-jeebies!

"Enough with the talk! Hand over the money, or you ain't going anywhere today!!"

One guy pulled out a sharp knife, glaring daggers at Margaret, trying to scare her into compliance.

The ghetto was a total free-for-all, no real security to speak of. So these guys didn't fear squat—they'd rob someone in broad daylight without blinking.

Some people nearby noticed the commotion and were about to speak up, but when a couple of the guys pointed their knives at them, they clammed up instantly, scared out of their wits.

Robberies like this were a dime a dozen in the ghetto.

"Ah... It hurts so bad! My leg! My leg!!"

The guys' miserable, pained screams echoed through the street!

Once she was done with the guys, Margaret didn't stick around. She headed deeper into the ghetto.

Her back was cold, like she'd just taken out trash.

Deep in the ghetto, outside an old two-story house, Margaret found the mark she'd left earlier.

This must be Monica's house.

Margaret didn't go inside.

There was a big tree outside the house. Margaret moved like a shadow, leaping up to the treetop effortlessly. She was at least 33 feet off the ground now, but her expression was calm.

She plopped down on the tree trunk and crossed her legs, looking casual and totally unruly.

She pulled out her phone, popped in her headphones, and started playing games like it was no big deal.

Just waiting for the night to fully set in.

*****

Ted's mansion...

Ted had just gotten back from the funeral home.