The Apocalyptic Queen's Werewolf Journey (Thora and Darius) novel Chapter 472

Just then, one of Marka's men hurried in and leaned down to whisper something in his ear.

Marka's expression shifted, and he addressed the suited man directly. "Got a big deal coming in. The buyer's a longtime client. The meeting point is a city nearby.

"These are dangerous times. I'd advise you to tread carefully, Mr. Spark." The suited man spoke slowly, his tone laced with a subtle warning.

"You don't need to worry about that." Marka brimmed with confidence. "Everything around here is my turf. My men know every inch of this terrain, and the buyer is someone we've done business with plenty of times. There won't be any problems."

He was arrogant by nature, and with the Golden Triad firmly under his control and the suited man now backing him up, he felt untouchable. He also wanted to use this opportunity to send Blue Star Military Academy a message—to let them know he was no pushover, and certainly not someone they could steamroll.

The suited man watched him with a flicker of cold amusement in his eyes but said nothing more.

After all, he was just following orders. As long as he secured the counterfeit bills, captured Thora, and kept his identity under wraps, that was enough.

...

At Sky Casino.

After wrapping up business with Tristan and the others, Thora returned to the room from earlier.

The room was deathly still, quiet enough to make your skin crawl.

Aside from the man lying on the floor who still showed faint signs of life, everything else in the room felt completely lifeless.

She glanced over at the fish tank—the water had long been stained red with blood, and the dead fish floated belly-up on the surface. Every plant in the room had withered and died, and more than a few pieces of furniture had warped and twisted, looking as though they might shatter at any second—a sight that sent chills down your spine.

She stared at the man on the ground, her mind churning with questions. What kind of ability was this? Just how powerful had he become? And how far could his destructive reach extend?

She walked over to Draven's side, checked his breathing, then pressed her fingers to his neck—he was deeply unconscious.

Thora frowned, bent down, and hauled Draven up off the floor, hooking her hands under his arms and dragging him straight onto the couch.

She couldn't help but wonder if she'd hit him a little too hard and knocked him out cold.

Looking at his face, swollen beyond recognition, Thora pulled out the medical kit she always carried on her.

With practiced hands, she took out the ointment and cotton swabs and began treating his wounds.

A faint medicinal scent drifted through the air, cutting through the suffocating stillness of the room.

"Who knows which version of you will wake up this time," Thora murmured, her voice flat, carrying a barely perceptible sigh.

After finishing with the medicine, Thora sat on the edge of the couch and closed her eyes to rest—she was waiting for Draven to wake up and for dawn to arrive.

She didn't know how much time had passed before her eyes snapped open and her hand shot up, catching the fingers reaching for her throat while simultaneously clamping down on the attacker's wrist.

But Draven seemed to have anticipated that. He clamped down hard on her hands, and every time she loosened the knot, he immediately retied it.

Thora wasn't about to keep burning through her mental energy on a necktie—even with her enhanced body and abilities, she couldn't afford that kind of pointless drain.

"I have things to do. Let me go." Thora's voice was low and firm.

But Draven refused, holding her tight, his tone cold and domineering. "Beg me."

Thora fell silent—there was something eerily familiar about this scene.

Back during the island trial, when she'd been sinking into the swamp, Draven had said the exact same thing. This guy...

Just then, Tristan's voice crackled through her communicator. "Boss, everyone's here."

It was already 6 a.m.—well beyond Thora's planned departure time—and yet she and Draven were still locked in their standoff.

Thora stopped wasting time with him. She tossed the untied necktie onto the floor, gave Draven one last look, turned on her heel, and walked toward the door.

But before she could step through, the room's door exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying in every direction.

Thora barely paused in her stride before continuing forward, completely ignoring the tidal wave of fury radiating from Draven behind her.