John was rushed to the hospital, his frail body carried out by Selene’s men. The hall was in chaos, yet no one dared to move against Lance.
The chief writhed on the ground, his face contorted in pain, sweat dripping from his forehead as he clutched his broken arm. Nicholas, Malcolm, and Alister hurried to his side, their faces pale with shock.
“You… you will regret this,” the chief spat, his voice trembling but filled with hatred.
“When my nephew arrives, you’ll be begging for mercy.”
Lance smirked coldly.
“I just hope your nephew doesn’t kill you himself when he realizes who I am.” His gaze darkened. “A man like you doesn’t even deserve to be a village chief.”
Nicholas clenched his fists, stepping forward. “You think you’re untouchable, but you’re finished! The chief’s nephew—”
La
