A sleek black luxury car suddenly pulled up in the filthy slum.
Soon, several bodyguards in suits and sunglasses, their expressions cold and hard, stepped out first.
Then the rear door opened. A black umbrella unfurled, and Emrys's polished leather shoes touched the ground.
A light rain had begun to drizzle, and the ground was filthy and muddy.
But none of that mattered to him. His expression was cold and solemn; all he wanted now was to see Fiora as soon as possible.
Rain crept up Emrys's pant legs, splashing them with mud.
He quickened his pace and finally stopped at Fiora's door.
Emrys closed the umbrella. A thin stream of water ran down from the tip.
He raised his hand slightly, and then the bodyguards barged in without waiting for permission.
When Petra saw the burly men burs
