Chapter 807
Chapter 807:
Going up against Wendy on her own ground was like playing a rigged game—Janice never stood a chance.
Yet, despite Aiden’s fervent words, Janice appeared utterly unfazed, savoring her coffee. Her serene demeanor only heightened Aiden’s restlessness.
“Janice, are you even listening to me?”
She blinked, then offered a half-smile. “Of course, I’m listening. You’re saying Wendy is a formidable enemy, one not to be underestimated.”
“Then why do you remain so calm?” Aiden pinched her cheek, his frustration evident in the forceful gesture. “If you could align with a local ally who has significant influence, you wouldn’t need to worry about her anymore.”
He laid it out as plainly as he could, hoping she would understand now. That ally, powerful and local, was him!
However, Janice seemed to overlook his insinuation, veering off topic. “Who do you think is behind Wendy?”
“Janice!” Aiden’s voice cracked with exasperation. For someone who usually exhibited such sharp acumen and strategic foresight, she could be remarkably oblivious at times.
“Alright, alright, I understand!” Janice chuckled, lightening the mood as she gently cradled Aiden’s face between her hands. “The reason I’m so calm is because I have you, right? You wouldn’t just stand by and let Wendy come after me, would you?”
Her words resonated deeply with Aiden, calming the storm of his frustration.
“No doubt about it. With me here, she wouldn’t dare touch you.”
“So, who do you think is behind Wendy?”
“Someone behind her?”
Aiden paused, considering her question carefully.
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The fact that Wendy got Stephen out of Cloverhill and managed to keep him hidden from the Welch family for so long? That wasn’t just luck—it was downright suspicious.
Wendy couldn’t have orchestrated this by herself. There had to be a stronger force behind her, someone with the power and influence to keep everything under control.
Shadows crept across Wendy’s private villa as she returned home.
The courtyard lay cloaked in darkness, where silent figures stood like sentinels. Their faces were carved from ice, hands clasped behind their backs in military precision. Not a muscle twitched as they awaited Wendy’s command.
At first glance, one might have mistaken them for masterfully crafted mannequins. Only the subtle rise and fall of their chests betrayed their humanity, a rhythmic reminder that blood still coursed through their veins.
Their eyes were vacant pools, faces masks of emptiness, as if their very souls had been stripped away during their training.
These were Wendy’s prized creations: assassins molded by her own hands over the years.
Her gaze slithered over them, cold as winter’s bite and deadly as a viper’s venom. “From this moment forward, you will not rest until Janice draws her final breath.”
“Yes, madam!”
Their unified response thundered through the courtyard, a chorus of deadly intent.
A twisted pleasure danced across Wendy’s features as their voices echoed into the night.
Her lips curled like a cat toying with its prey, eyes narrowing to predatory slits as she envisioned Janice’s inevitable downfall. Even with supernatural abilities, Janice would crumble beneath the relentless assault of so many trained killers.
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