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Watching Lambert disappear through the door, Estelle turned and made her way to the
café.
She ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake. She was halfway through her
coffee when suddenly,
her phone buzzed. It was Lambert.
She picked up with a casual, “Hello?”
“Rella!” Lambert’s voice was edged with urgency, “The deal fell through—”
His voice cut off abruptly, followed by a dead tone.
Estelle shot up from her seat and bolted out of the café, sprinting towards the meeting
room.
The security guard at the entrance tried to stop her, but she grabbed his collar and
slammed his head against
the solid walnut door.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtShe’d been inside before and knew the layout well. She raced up to the seventh floor,
didn’t bother knocking,
and kicked the door in to find Lambert tied to a chair, his eyes wide with shock at the sight
of her.
With a loud bang, the door swung shut behind her, and five burly men charged at Estelle.
Leaping into action, she grabbed one man’s arm and with a crisp “snap” broke it. Using his
leg as leverage, she sprang up and landed a punch right on another man’s throat. Her
movements were swift and fierce, and within moments, two men lay crumpled at her feet.
The remaining three lunged again. Estelle’s hand flashed with the glint of a dagger, which
she drove deep into a man’s forearm, twisting it around the bone, eliciting a piercing
scream. She kicked him aside and advanced on the last two with her blade! Suddenly, a
sharp pain struck her back. Her attack faltered, and a look of disbelief spread across her
face as she pulled out the object from her back. A tranquilizer dart! Estelle spun around to
face Lambert.
Her guard had been down around him, because to her, he wasn’t just Lambert—he was a
part of her past, a
memory she couldn’t shake.
She didn’t have time for hate or regret. Her body swayed, and she fell to the floor.
The door opened, and people in white hazmat suits rushed in, placing Estelle on a
stretcher and whisking her
away.
Lambert felt a pang of foreboding and followed instinctively.
“Mr. Brennan!” A bookshelf parted to reveal Raiden, masked and stern. “Your task is
complete, and quite
successfully. We’re ready to sign the contract.”
Lambert’s face was stoic. “What are you going to do with her?”
“She’s part of an experiment,” Raiden replied, his voice devoid of warmth. “Don’t worry,
there’s no risk to her
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmlife.”
“Then Mr. Brennan, please take some rest. We can sign the contract anytime,” Raiden
replied.
Lambert turned to leave but stopped after a few steps. He looked back and demanded,
“Who killed Stella? I
want the truth now!”
Raiden’s gaze was impassive. “It was Wolverine.”
Lambert’s face darkened instantly. “You’re playing games with me?”
He knew Wolverine had been dead for over two years.
A wave of desolate emptiness surged through Lambert. He nodded slowly and walked
away.
Outside, the sun beat down mercilessly, but Lambert felt an icy chill on his back.
Instinctively, he crossed the
street and entered the café, seeking refuge.
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