Slade laughed even harder.
"You say that like I'm the one being unreasonable."
"Relax. When it comes to a fight, my brother is a total Noob."
"Even if he did run off with her, if push comes to shove, he's the one who's going to get his ass kicked."
"For the sake of the brawls we used to get into back in the day, even if he gets beaten to a pulp, I won't ask you for a dime in compensation."
"Anything else? If not, I'm going back to my executive meeting."
Without giving him a chance to explode, Slade hung up.
Taking shamelessness to new heights was definitely Slade's specialty.
That was exactly why they could never be friends.
The man was so obnoxious he made people want to kill him on a daily basis.
Just as Andres was cursing Slade's ancestors, a text came through.
From Slade.
It was a string of digits.
Seeing the unknown number, Andres's dark expression finally cleared a little.
Meanwhile, things weren't looking great for Maeve and Silas.
His fanbase was far more terrifying than he had anticipated.
From the moment they left the restaurant, fans swarmed them from every direction, chasing them relentlessly.
An outsider might have thought the two were on the run for a heinous crime.
As a Port Caspian native, Silas was completely unfamiliar with Aethelburg's layout.
While running, they suddenly hit a dead-end alley.
Panicking, he turned to Maeve.
"We're blocked. Any bright ideas?"
She had been running with him the whole time, clearly enjoying the thrill of the chase.
"Keep running. This is fun."
He almost choked on his own breath.
"Are you messing with me?"

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