Sweet Mischief's Rollercoaster Romance novel Chapter 925

Andre glanced at the boy who looked even younger than his years. When a man tried to include him in his assault, Andre didn't hesitate. He snapped his belt, letting it whip across the man's face with a sharp crack. A red welt quickly formed. "Damn it, I wasn't even getting started..."

Tossing the belt aside, Andre launched himself into a brawl with the man.

It took less than a minute for Andre to overpower him, sending him sprawling to the ground. The man's back collided painfully with a roadside rock, leaving him writhing and unable to rise.

With the obstacle removed, Andre and Conner locked eyes for the first time, both surprised to find a contemporary in such a setting.

"What's your name?" Conner asked, clearly impressed by Andre's skill. "You've got some moves. How about sticking around with me?"

Unbeknownst to him, this encounter would be the start of a challenge he could never quite overcome: Andre.

Andre chuckled at Conner's cocky offer, dismissing him as a wannabe tough guy. He turned his attention to a girl, hoping she was his sister, Molly. But she wasn't, and disappointment clouded his expression.

The girl, desperate, clung to Andre's backpack, tears streaming down her face. "Please, help me."

"Don't get involved," Conner warned. "This place is a mess you don't want to handle."

Andre turned back to the girl, her bruised and battered state reminding him of his sister, who should have been safe and sound. "Do you know where you live?" he asked gently.

She nodded.

Andre made a quick call, and within ten minutes, two men arrived. "Mr. Andre," they greeted.

Gesturing toward the girl, Andre instructed, "Take care of her."

Conner whistled, impressed. "Looks like you’ve got some serious connections."

Their second encounter was in a club's private room.

"Fancy seeing you here again," Conner said, now the second-in-command of the street.

With Conner's help, the previous boss had solidified his reign over the red-light district. Andre knew that if he needed information, going straight to the boss was the way to go.

The boss, cigar in hand and flanked by admirers, eyed Andre with curiosity as the young man stood unfazed before him.

A heavily made-up woman sauntered over to Andre, ignoring his stern "Back off!" She reached out with her red-tipped nails, aiming for his shoulder.

In a flash, Andre picked up a wine bottle and smashed it over her head without a second thought.

Blood trickled down, staining his grey sweater. The other women in the room gasped, rushing to help the injured woman. Andre, however, remained still, his gaze fixed on the man across the room. "Mr. Chapman, we've got business to discuss."

"What do you want?" the boss inquired, intrigued by this fearless youth. If Andre joined him, his ambitions could grow beyond this one street.

Andre pulled out a photograph. "I'm looking for someone. Has she been here?"

"Who are you?"

"André."

Conner, hearing Andre's name for the first time, scrutinized the clean-cut young man. Compared to him, Conner felt like dirt, unable to wash away his own darkness. Andre seemed like a proud, untouchable king.

But Conner knew better than to underestimate someone who looked so clean and composed.

Conner examined the photo. "Why are you looking for her?"