Chapter 182

William Johnson's private jet had just landed at Jinzhou Airport. The black Maybach sped through the night, neon lights outside the window casting fragmented shadows across the man's exhausted features.

"Boss, there's trouble." Sam Wilson's grip on the steering wheel tightened as urgent updates crackled through the Bluetooth earpiece.

William's eyes snapped open, fatigue instantly replaced by icy sharpness. "Explain."

Ever since discovering Alexander Johnson's predatory interest in Emily Smith, he'd stationed covert guards to protect her around the clock. Sam's voice carried unusual tension: "Miss Smith was forcibly taken by three unknown men into a budget hotel in the southern district."

The car screeched to a violent halt. William's knuckles whitened against the leather seat. "How long?"

"Fifteen minutes." Sam swallowed hard. "Our men report she's been resisting the entire time."

William loosened his tie, a storm brewing in his eyes. "Turn around."

Tires screamed against asphalt as the Maybach shot toward the southern district like an arrow.

In the dingy hotel corridor, surveillance cameras pulsed with eerie red light. Behind Room 307, the sound of tearing fabric mixed with men's ragged breathing.

"You think playing dead will help?" David Brown gripped Emily's chin, forcing the camera toward her bloodless face. "Once this video goes viral, let's see how long you can keep pretending to be pure!"

Nylon ropes bit into Emily's wrists, drawing blood. Her shirt gaped open, revealing savage bite marks on her collarbone. She clenched her teeth, the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth.

"In your dreams." Her voice was hoarse but clear. "I'd rather die than let you win."

David tore at her clothes, raising the camera—

BANG!

The door exploded inward. William emerged through the cloud of splinters, the hem of his black coat flaring like a raptor's wings.

David barely had time to react before an inhuman force slammed him to the ground. The camera shattered against the floor, its lens webbed with cracks.

William's pupils contracted when his gaze landed on the fragile figure on the bed. Emily resembled a broken butterfly—pale skin mottled with bruises, blood trickling from her lips, yet stubbornly refusing to shed a single tear.

"Sam." William wrapped his coat around her, voice colder than glacial ice. "Make sure he never sees another sunrise."

David collapsed, a dark stain spreading across his trousers. Sam hauled him up by the collar like a dead dog, dragging him out. Soon, muffled blows and strangled whimpers echoed down the hallway.

The moment the ropes loosened, Emily trembled violently. William gathered her into his arms with infinite care, his thumb brushing the bruise at the corner of her eye.

"It's over." He pressed a kiss to her quivering lashes, voice raw with emotion. "I'm taking you home."

The girl in his arms finally opened her eyes. Tears washed away the dried blood crusting her eyelashes. She clutched his shirtfront, knuckles bleaching white—as if clinging to the last lifeline in a storm.