The CEO’s Regret My Ex-Wife is a Tech Goddess novel Chapter 126

"Two of the guys from the crew that kidnapped you are dead, and we captured another two. They ratted out a few accomplices, so the Boss took a team out personally to hunt them down," Zachary explained, clearing up her confusion.

Alaina was slightly taken aback as the memory of Silas rescuing her that terrifying day flashed through her mind.

She used to think scenes like that only existed in Hollywood action movies. She never expected reality to be infinitely more blood-curdling.

Thinking about how utterly ruthless those men were, she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Is it dangerous?"

"They're just low-level thugs. With the Boss's skills, he can handle them easily," Zachary declared, his chest puffing out with pride. "We need to smoke out the mastermind as fast as possible. That's the only way to guarantee your long-term safety, Ma'am."

Hearing that, Alaina nodded.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, her heart remained tightly suspended in her chest.

Late that night, she tossed and turned in bed, her attention hyper-fixated on the hallway outside.

Several times, she thought she heard footsteps and instinctively leaped out of bed to crack the door open and check.

Finally, she pulled up the security feed on her phone and watched Silas step into the camera's view.

Hearing the door to the opposite room click open, she immediately stepped out into the hall.

Silas's bedroom door was left slightly ajar. She knocked twice softly, and when she peeked inside, she saw the bathroom light glaring brightly.

"Silas, is that you?" she called out softly, stepping inside.

The bathtub was filling with water.

Silas was standing in front of it. The dim, warm bathroom lighting barely illuminated his broad, towering silhouette.

His crisp white dress shirt, which should have been immaculate, was thoroughly soaked in a massive, dark bloom of dried blood down the front. The overlapping shades of crimson were sickeningly jarring.

The half-dried blood stood in stark contrast to his pale skin, while a layer of impenetrable, isolating coldness masked his sharp features.

His long fingers grasped the buttons of his collar, unfastening them one by one at a sluggish pace.

His movements were incredibly rigid and restrained. As the fabric loosened, it slid slowly down the expanse of his broad shoulders.

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