"All of this... she made me do it. She tricked me into it-I lost my head. Otherwise, how could I have ever dared mess with your girl, Victor?"
Victor lifted his chin, his gaze dark and fathomless as he looked at Isadora. A slow, dangerous smile crept across his lips. "Mess with her, is it? You want to y?"
Isadora tilted her head, expression cool. "y? What do you mean?"
Victor''s smile widened, as if they were discussing nothing more serious than the weather. "However you want-whatever makes you happy."
Anyone listening felt a chill run down their spine.
Isadora let out augh, her clear eyes shining with a mischievous glint as she looked at the man in front of her.
"Let''s y, then."
Victor gave a briefmand. "Bring me a few knives."
Finley let out a resigned sigh.
Of all the people to provoke, why did they have to pick Isadora?
Now Victor''s more ruthless side was about to break loose.
Finley returned with a white porcin te, arranging several sharp steak knives on it before setting it down in front of Victor.
Victor pulled Isadora gently in front of him, resting his chin on her shoulder. He picked up a knife, ced it in her hand, and wrapped his fingers around hers, guiding her aim in Preston''s direction. His eyes narrowed, tone almost yful. "Let me show you how to throw."
As soon as he finished speaking, there was a sharp whizz through the air.
The knife spun like a dart, burying itself into the seat just between Preston''s legs. "Aaaargh!"
A scream tore through the room.
Preston went pale, his blood seeming to freeze. His legs shook uncontrobly,
and a spreading wet stain appeared across hisp.
Everyone around watched in stunned horror.
Dear God.
Victor was ying this twisted game so casually—all just to amuse a woman.
People''s understanding of Victor''s arrogance, recklessness, and brutality reached a whole new level.
And then-Victor''s hand still
covering Isadora''s-one knife after another flew from her hand,nding in the flesh of Preston''s thigh, his arm, and mere inches from his head.
By the end Preston''s eyes rolled back. He was drenched in sweat another wave of wetness spreading across his pants, his bodypletely limp. With a final gasp, he passed out cold.
Isadora, for her part, had never yed a game like this-a real-life human dartboard. Well, more like a terrifying game of darts. As things got going, she found it oddly entertaining, even remarkingo casually, "Not one bullseye
ve
Victor shot her a sidelong look, his eyes dark with humor. "Not satisfied?"
Without warning, Victor covered Isadora''s eyes with his palm.
A sh of steel-a knife flew with deadly speed, plunging deep into the top of Preston''s thigh.
Blood immediately began to pour from the wound.
Preston snapped awake with a howl, lurching upright in agony, his face contorted.
With her vision blocked, Isadora could only hear that soul-rending scream.
When Victor finally let his hand drop from her eyes, she saw the carnage.
Victor arched a brow. "Feeling better?"
Every anxious gaze in the room shot to Isadora.
Please, just say you''re happy! Even if it wasn''t them being stabbed, their nerves were stretched to the breaking point.
Isadora''s lips slowly curved upward. "Mm-hmm."
Victor picked up a towel, meticulously wiping each of Isadora''s fingers clean. Then
he took her hand, utterly unconcerned with anyone watching, and prepared to lead her out.
The crowd parted without a word, making way for them.
Only after the two were gone did anyone snap out of their stupor. Suddenly the room erupted-shouting for an ambnce, scrambling to get Preston to the hospital.
Finley gave a wry smile. "It''s nothing, really. Just take him to the ER-say it was, I don''t know... an unfortunate ident."
Everyone: "..."
In the shadowy corner of the couch, Magnus had been silent, his brows drawn tight.
The moment he saw Victor leave with Isadora, he sprang up and hurried after them.