Hanging upside down from a beam in the black tower of Lockhart Prison, Thorpe was a sorry sight to behold. His once intimidating frame was now a patchwork of bruises and wounds.
Noella peered at the battered figure, her brows knitting together in confusion. "And who might you be?"
Thorpe's fury broke through his battered facade. "Wise Fool, do you have to do this to me? I didn’t know you are Ms. Schnabel, and it was Xavier who had a bone to pick with your grandpa, not me! You've killed more of my guys over that blasted deal than I can count, and I haven't even come knocking for payback!"
With a casual shrug, Noella replied, "You're Thorpe? Didn't recognize you there. Anyway, if your boys were stronger, maybe they wouldn't have fallen so easily. Blaming me seems a bit shameless, don't you think?"
Xavier chimed in with a snicker. "Shameless? He's way past that. I knocked the looks right off his face!"
Thorpe's swollen appearance did little to help his recognition; in fact, he looked more like a bloated caricature of himself.
It was only because Thorpe had watched a livestream of Noella's birthday bash, organized by the Schnabel family while he was helping Hollis recover, that he recognized her. The face of Palmer, a familiar enemy, had appeared amid the birthday bash and it nearly drove Thorpe over the edge.
The CEO of the Pollack Group was one of his archenemies?
The moment he saw Noella standing close to Palmer, he knew—she was that Ms. Noella from the Schnabel family. Her confident stance as she fired her gun and her tussle with Lyra, it all clicked for Thorpe, who had faced her numerous times on the international warzones.
Ms. Noella from the Schnabel family, another nemesis?
Suddenly, Thorpe felt as if all his efforts over the years had been for naught.
What kind of heiress moonlights as a hitwoman?
"You're the one who summoned me to Lockhart Prison and now you've got me strung up like a side of beef. What's your endgame? You aiming to swallow up Cerulean Whale?"
"Cerulean Whale? Not interested. Your crew are a bunch of goons—not only are they ugly as sin, but they're dumb as a sack of hammers. Taking them out would just be embarrassing."
Noella was known for collecting orphans from war-torn regions to join the Obelisk Organization. While looks weren't a priority for a hitman, Cerulean Whale's bizarre standards had turned them into a pack of over-muscled transformers. Noella preferred to keep her distance from such ostentatious displays of brute force.
"Besides, I called you here for a rescue, remember? Don't you care about your little brother?"
After a moment's silence, Thorpe looked defeated. "Can you let me down? Xavier, you've wiped out my team; I'm no threat now."
Xavier glanced at Noella, clearly seeking her approval.
"Let him down. His brain's fried anyway."
Noella was referring to a rather literal injury to Thorpe's head—a blow that had left him with more than just a few clots and a close call with death.
Once released, Thorpe slumped beside a water basin. Hollis, looking frail and pale, was wheeled in by Magee.
Xavier scoffed. "I have no interest in beating a dying man. This guy seemed half-dead already!"
Hollis, ever the gentleman, inclined his head towards Xavier from his wheelchair. "Xavier, I apologize for the inconvenience."
With a polite smile that belied his condition, Hollis then turned his attention to Noella, his smile growing a touch warmer. "I owe you my life, and for that, I am grateful."
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