Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 68

Yvonne let go of Grace’s hand and moved to follow Justin.

“Hey, Yvonne, where are you going?” Grace called after her.

“To the restroom,” Yvonne answered over her shoulder, quickening her pace.

Justin was cautious, with a strong sense of counter-surveillance.

Even though Yvonne was trying her best to be discreet, he seemed to notice her after just a short distance.

He led her into a narrow alley before stopping and turning around.

“I thought I had another plainclothes officer on my tail, but it’s just some little thing who doesn’t know when to quit,” Justin said with a smirk, his eyes lingering on Yvonne with ill intent.

“You might as well call out your friends. You can all come at me at once. Let’s not waste my time,” Yvonne said, kicking off her heels.

Justin had led her on a winding path; he clearly had backup nearby.

“Such a big mouth for such a little thing,” a deep, raspy voice echoed through the alley.

Yvonne turned to see several large, imposing men emerge from the shadows, flanking a nondescript, dark-skinned, and wiry middle-aged man.

Justin retreated behind the man, respectfully addressing him as, “Mark.”

Mark?! Yvonne couldn’t hide her shock.

Mark was the head of Vexel’s largest criminal organization. He was said to be a ghost; despite the police having numerous informants, no one had ever seen his face.

If this was that Mark, she had just stumbled upon a very big fish.

“Justin, this girl you brought is quite a looker. So fair and delicate… very tempting,” Mark remarked.

“Yeah, boss. Let’s grab her and have some fun tonight,” Justin said obsequiously.

Yvonne was forced onto the defensive, steadily losing ground.

She had thought she was just cornering Justin, but she had kicked a hornet’s nest. These men were relentless, every strike aimed to kill.

She fought cautiously, backing away step by step.

“There’s no escape for you tonight. Surrender now, and if you take good care of me and my brothers, maybe we’ll leave you a pretty corpse…”

One of the men taunted her with a vulgar laugh. Midway through his sentence, Yvonne grabbed a ceramic pot from a nearby pile of junk and hurled it at him.

He dodged, and the pot shattered against the wall with a loud crash.

Yvonne continued her retreat, grabbing whatever she could find—boxes, wooden planks, broken pottery—and throwing them at her attackers.

As she backed away, trying to think of an escape route, a faint, cool scent filled the air. Suddenly, her back slammed into a hard chest.