?Chapter 845:


    For Hale’s grand scheme, it was worth it.


    Behind Harlee, Oaklee had quietly closed the gap between herself and Tonya on the long sofa.


    Oaklee watched the tense exchange and Etta’s intermittent looks of terror, finally asking Tonya, “What strategy is Harlee employing? Why does it seem so potent against Etta?”


    Tonya, not bothering to raise her head, replied with a frosty tone, “Harlee’s mere presence is Etta’s greatest nightmare.”


    Given that it was her first encounter with Oaklee, Tonya’s voice carried a chill, uninviting edge.


    Oaklee, somewhat puzzled, nodded, her respect for Harlee still intact. Standing up with a stern gaze fixed on Etta, Tonya’s voice wasced with venom as she sneered, “Kill you?” Her lips twisted into a chilling smile.


    “Etta, do you even merit such consideration? You’re not even worth the effort it takes to perish.”


    Tonya’s eyes hardened as she paused, her tone cold.


    “Your sole opportunity to embrace death hinges on your willingness to divulge everything about your encounters with Hale.”


    Tonya then swiped her phone a few times, pulling up a horrifying image of Hale, battered and unrecognizable, and thrust it before Etta’s eyes.


    After ensuring Etta saw the gruesome photo, Tonya settled back into her seat, her silence hanging heavily in the air.


    Tonya’s coboration with Harlee had kept their adversaries in the dark, forcing them to puzzle over their intentions. The mounting dread among their adversaries was exactly the oue they relished.


    Etta’s eyes narrowed in shock.


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    “Impossible! Hale is unmatched.


    He couldn’t possibly be overpowered by the likes of you…”


    Harlee raised her gaze to meet Etta’s, whose demeanor bordered on frantic, yet her own expression remained serene, as if the scorn hadn’t been aimed at her. She gave Etta a brief look, noting Etta’s refusal to ept reality.


    For Harlee, this was ideal. She was looking for an outlet for her pent-up frustration. Instead of responding in anger, Harlee allowed a smile to creep across her face.


    That smile caused Etta to instinctively mp her mouth shut, petrified by Harlee’s possible intentions. What could be behind Harlee’s unnervingly tranquil smile?


    Rising to her feet, Harlee closed the distance between her and Etta, enunciating each word with chilling precision.


    “Impossible? Unmatched?”


    Each word Harlee uttered was apanied by a swift, decisive motion. With unnerving precision, she broke one of Etta’s fingers, the sound of the fracture echoing in the room.


    “Ah!” Etta’s scream tore through the air, sharp and desperate, as if she were being choked.


    Herplexion shifted rapidly from pale to flushed, beads of sweat forming on her brow.


    Her eyes darted wildly, filled with unmistakable fear.


    Her breathing grewbored, and Etta was painfully aware that her chances of survival were slim.


    At first, when she was caught, she clung to a fragile hope that Harlee might show mercy, perhaps for her mother’s sake.


    But that hope was shattered the moment Harlee effortlessly broke four of her fingers, plunging her deeper into terror.


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