?Chapter 66:


    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ynda asked, her toneced with caution.


    Christina lowered her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. But beneath the smile, her posture betrayed something else—grief, resignation, and a flicker of fear. “It means,” she said quietly, “I n to make things very difficult for you.”


    Christina slowly pulled out her phone and added with a calm, almost yful menace, “In fact, I’m going to blow this up—loudly, publicly, and dramatically.”


    Katie’s eyes flicked toward Christina’s phone, her expression tightening. “What are you getting at?” she asked, her voice cold and wary.


    Christina’s smile faded. Her expression hardened as her eyes reddened with sudden emotion. She held the phone close, clutching it as if it were a lifeline. “Don’t act innocent. I’ve got video proof. Clear evidence you threw the first punch. It’s all right here. And the police—” she paused, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. “They care about evidence, not stories. You’re done for.”


    As soon as Christina finished speaking, Katie and the others finally realized they were in trouble.


    “You little snake!” Katie shouted, lunging toward Christina. “Hand your damned phone over—now!”


    Christina jerked back. Finnegan and She sprang into action beside Katie. All three charged forward. They couldn’t let Christina keep that phone. If the footage got out, they were ruined.


    “No!” Christina screamed, her voice cracking as she stumbled backward, as if she were truly frightened. “Let go of me! Help—please! They’re trying to snatch my phone! Someone help me!”


    To anyone watching, Christina looked like a terrified victim being attacked—helpless, pleading, and vulnerable. But underneath the chaos, she wasn’t as fragile as she appeared. Her elbows found ribs. Her heels struck shins. She fought back with unexpected strength, catching the three off guard.


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    Grunts of pain escaped from the trio as they flinched, staggered, and gasped for breath. Despite outnumbering Christina, they were on the receiving end of her attack.


    “Enough!” A female police officer pushed through the fray, grabbing Katie by the arm and pulling her back.


    More officers rushed in, forming a barrier between Christina and her “attackers.” Christina stumbled back and hid behind the officer. Her shoulders trembled as she clung to her phone. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her hair fell in tangled waves around her face. Even in her disarray, there was something devastatingly beautiful about her vulnerability.


    Brendon stood frozen nearby, unable to look away. He had never seen Christina like this—so fragile. Seeing her cowering behind the female officer, her face pale with terror, something inside him snapped. An overwhelming need to protect her surged through him. Every tear that rolled down her cheeks felt like a dagger to his heart.


    Christina’s disheveled hair, the way she seemed to fold into herself, and the silent sobs escaping her lips struck Brendon with unbearable regret and sympathy. And it wasn’t just Brendon who felt it. Even the officers around her couldn’t help but soften, their expressions shifting to sympathy.


    When the officers turned their attention to the trio who had “attacked” Christina, their eyes were hard, judging, and disapproving. To them, the three no longer looked like victims of a scuffle but predators caught in the act.


    “What just happened?” the female officer asked, her tone softening as she looked into Christina’s eyes. “You’re safe now. Don’t be afraid. Just tell us what happened—we’re here to help.”


    Christina slowly looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached into her pocket and shakily handed the phone to the officer. “Th-this has the proof,” she stammered. “They came at me… They tried to take it, thought they were going to kill me.”


    Her voice cracked, and a choked sob escaped. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, seemingly struggling to breathe. “I begged them to stop…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But they wouldn’t. They just kept trying to rip it from me.”


    Earlier, when Christina was brought in for formal questioning, she hadn’t said much. She had sat stiffly, hands sped in herp, her entire demeanor that of a fragile woman holding on by a thread.


    But what the others didn’t see was how meticulously Christina had orchestrated all of this. Earlier, when she had smiled at Brendon and the others, it was never in front of a camera. She had avoided direct angles, tilting her face just so, keeping her most calcted expressions hidden from view. Even when Brendon had grabbed her by the neck back in the house, she hadn’t fought back. She had allowed it to happen so that it could be captured on video.


    Christina had warned them before: if they didn’t provoke her, she wouldn’t go after them. But they’d ignored that warning. And now, they had no one to me but themselves.


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