She’s Back, and Hell’s Coming with Her novel Chapter 42

He trailed behind the bodyguards, winding through corridors and hallways. After circling around several times, they finally brought him to the innermost room.

As he took in the lavish, high-end décor, he couldn’t help but mutter to himself, Damn, this guy’s loaded. No wonder he keeps so many bodyguards around.

Inside the mansion, a slightly overweight man was leisurely brewing coffee, moving with unhurried ease as the rich aroma drifted through the room. Even when visitors arrived, he didn’t bother to pause his movements.

He wore a string of prayer beads around his wrist and another around his neck—at first glance, anyone would think he was religious. But that wasn’t really the case. After all the shady things he’d done, he just needed something to quiet his conscience.

The moment Kenny walked in, his voice was tight with urgency.

“Boss, something’s happened… Brett—something’s wrong.”

Keen continued pouring coffee into his cup, not even bothering to glance over. His words were clipped and cold.

“Talk.”

Kenny clenched his fists, clearly frustrated by Keen’s composure, and shot a glance at the bodyguards stationed around the room.

“Boss, this is private. We can’t have anyone else hear it…”

Keen set down the coffee pot and flicked his hand. The outer ring of bodyguards filed out, leaving only two men inside.

Kenny knew these two were Keen’s personal guards.

Keen finally settled into his chair, and one of the bodyguards lit a cigarette for him. He took a slow drag before finally turning his attention to Kenny, his patience wearing thin.

“This better be earth-shattering. Otherwise, you’re not leaving here on your own two feet.”

Keen stared blankly, not following.

“Someone secretly took photos of the scar on Brett’s thigh and posted them online,” Kenny blurted, anxiety written all over his face. If someone managed to catch Brett, the rest of them would be next. He sure as hell didn’t trust Brett to keep his mouth shut.

In the old days, Kenny had been the most timid one in the crew, never daring to do anything reckless in public. That night, when everything happened, both Keen and Brett had already taken their turns. They’d urged him to join in too, telling him he’d regret it if he didn’t. He’d hesitated, woman’s cries echoing in his ears, until Brett teased him for being too chicken. Stung, Kenny had acted out of spite—he wasn’t about to let anyone say he was useless.

After hearing Kenny out, Keen rose, pulled out his phone, and quickly found the video and the photos online. Photo after photo, the scar was clearly visible.

“Who took these?” he demanded.

Kenny’s voice was on the verge of tears. “I don’t know who did it. Brett’s missing, and the woman he was with is gone, too.”