Andres really did want to crush her wrist.
After a second thought, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
So, he released his grip, giving her back her freedom.
Maeve yanked her hand back instantly. The skin where he had held her was indeed red.
Glaring at him furiously, she snapped:
"You're saying that old bastard is your master?"
That nickname made Andres sigh helplessly.
"No matter how you look at him, the man is barely in his thirties."
Maeve rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Clearly, you don't know the first thing about your so-called master."
"Wait, when did he even take you on as a disciple?"
Andres thought back.
"About four years ago. He taught me a lot, appeared out of nowhere, and left without a word."
Even now, Andres couldn't say what Griffin's true motive for approaching him had been.
They had met during a vicious gang shootout.
At the brink of death, Griffin had saved him.
Back then, Andres's brains had far outweighed his brawn.
If it hadn't been for his bodyguards, he would have suffered a lot of brutal beatings.
Under Griffin's guidance, his combat skills had skyrocketed.
He had asked about Griffin's background, but the man had said nothing, only telling him to train hard.
And that was that.
Four years ago, Maeve and Charlie Wilson had been working as battlefield medics overseas.
The war zones were filled with patients teetering on the edge of death.
Maeve had racked up thousands of surgeries during that chaotic period.
While she and Charlie were navigating the crossfire, Griffin had mentioned over the phone that he was handling some business down in Africa.
As for what business, he never elaborated.
At the time, Maeve had been entirely focused on her surgeries and hadn't cared about Griffin's whereabouts.
So, his 'business' in Africa had been taking Andres on as a student.
Two men, born on the exact same year, month, day, and time, both mentored by Griffin.

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