Queeny gave an instinctive struggle, but with her arms solidly clamped, she was unable to move and could only throw a blindfold scowl at the guy.
The guy issued an icy laugh.
Without saying more, he heaved her upon his shoulder and went out.
Queeny was horrified.
One would feel an acute sense of insecurity with one’s feet off the ground.
Not knowing who this guy was or where he was taking her, Queeny was overwhelmed with misgiving.
She secretly tautened her body for a desperate fight.
Before she could even move a finger, however, she heard the guy’s cold voice.
“Don’t waste your energy. I hate to fight with a woman, so don’t challenge my patience. Be good, and I’ll put you down when we get there.”
Queeny’s ready strike froze.
The guy’s shoulder was burly and muscular, the jutting muscles stabbing her belly.
It was obvious that this guy also practiced martial arts.
Tied up and a captive, Queeny thought now that her life was not threatened, she’d better assume an obedient façade and wait for a better timing to strike back.
With these thoughts, her taut muscles gradually slackened.
A few minutes later, Queeny gathered from the sound of the footsteps that they had entered a house and were walking on a carpet.
She concluded that they were almost there.
Sure enough, the guy soon paused and let her down.
“Chief, she’s here.”
Chief? Of what?
Queeny frowned.
Still perplexed, she felt a shadow pass over her eyes and then a hand get around to the back of her head and untie the blindfold.
Stung by the sudden light, Queeny grimaced.
Opening her eyes, she saw a neat and opulent room.
Standing before her was a tall man in a black jacket and black trousers with his hands in the trousers pockets, looking down at her with a vague smile.
“Miss Horton, we meet at last.”
Queeny was stunned.
She fixed her eyes on the man’s face. A blizzard of pictures flashed across her mind, countless fragments of unknown episodes dashing by.
A sharp headache descended on her.
She clamped her head, breaking into sweat with the pain.
“Ah!”
A stifled roar escaped her throat. Queeny curled up on the floor and trembled with the headache.
What was the matter?
How could this happen?
This face, this face…
The face suddenly came nearer.
He looked at her and cooed in a soothing voice, “What’s wrong, Miss Horton? Is it a bad headache?”
“You must feel my face quite familiar, don’t you? Feel we’ve met before? Good girl, we have indeed, when you were tiny. You remember? I took your hand, held you in my arms, and bought you sweets. What did you call me then?”
Gazing at him, Queeny broke into tears.
“Bro…Brother…”
The man smiled and reached out to caress her face.
“Yeah, it’s Brother. Don’t cry, good girl. Brother adores you.”
Saying that, the man picked her up from the floor into his arms.
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