Regret Came Too Late (Grace and Ethan) novel Chapter 478

Joanne's expression remained unchanged as she nodded slowly. "He's the leader of the slums. His men have caused me trouble a few times, but he's not entirely bad."

That made sense. After all, Joanne had lived here for many years.

Grace smiled weakly and crouched beside Lucian.

Both of his hands were bound, and his movements were clearly restricted. However, his anger flared as he tried to rise. "Grace, aren't you afraid I'll come after you for this?"

The sound of two sharp slaps rang out in response.

Lucian never expected her to make such a move. A trickle of blood now traced a path from the corner of his mouth.

Joanne flinched, unable to stop herself from exclaiming, "Grace, you…"

Grace's expression remained calm as she grabbed a beer bottle from the pile of trash on the floor. With one swift motion, she smashed it against Lucian's head.

The bottle shattered, and a corresponding bloom of blood immediately marred his scalp.

Lyle stood silently in the corner, his brows furrowed slightly. He offered no comment.

Grace clutched the remaining half of the bottle and stated, "If I hadn't escaped last night, I don't even want to imagine what could've happened to me. Now, you're the prey, and I'm the hunter. So, let's make this simple—tell me who sent you."

Despite the brute force of the beer bottle exploding against his skull, Lucian remained stubbornly silent, not making even a single sound.

Grave had suspected as much from the moment she was kidnapped that this man was no ordinary thug. She stood up and moved toward the door, heading into the hallway.

Lyle followed her behind, his tone casual as he asked, "Need me to help with anything?"

"Can you get him to talk?"

Lyle leaned back against the wall with a nonchalant air, his words laced with a careless drawl. "A guy like that? Even if I force him to speak, there's no guarantee he'll tell the truth. Didn't you see his eyes? He's not afraid of death."

A man who wasn't afraid of death—what else could possibly terrify him?

The only path forward was to uncover his weakness.

However, what weakness could there be in someone who thrived in the filth of the slums, making a name for himself in such chaos?

Lyle snapped his fingers, as though pleased that his turn had finally come.

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