Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle took a deep breath, unable to make any more promises. She was up against the Dorsey family, and with her current capabilities, challenging them was akin to a lamb taking on a lion.

"I'll do my best to investigate," she said.

James managed a smile, but the injury on his face pulled at his muscles, causing him pain.

"They're playing tag team on me. I can't beat them all, but I'm sure I won't suffer too much. I'll wait for you to get me out of here."

A pang of discomfort hit Brielle in the chest. She nodded silently and stepped away from the police station.

Outside, she saw about a dozen motorcycles parked nearby, with a group of rough-looking guys boldly waiting by the police station entrance.

As Brielle emerged, they quickly surrounded her.

"Hey, you're James' little sister. How's he doing? Those damn cops, did they give him any trouble?"

"Damn it! I'm about to storm that precinct right now!"

"Girl, come on, talk to us. How's he? Did he suffer in there?"

Brielle opened her mouth but found herself at a loss for words, encircled by a group of twenty-something-year-old guys. Any woman coming face-to-face with such a scene would be terrified.

the people society looked down upon, the ones parents warned their children about, the city's

now, the details are unclear. I need

most educated bunch, but

because you were a girl. But James has been looking for you all this time." "Right, we all knew James had been searching for his sister for years. So when we saw the news online, we immediately printed your photo. Each of us carries one. Tell us if you ever run

echoed in the

harassing this girl? We'll lock

bunch of lowlifes making

on their bikes, not before reminding Brielle. "Hey, take

her hand, with a number scrawled on it

there's any news about James, let us know. We all work for him and are really

a roar, the motorcycles

in hand, approached Brielle.

feeling a bittersweet

We've seen the news about you and the Fox family. They're no

en

knowing the officer

cases, people were judged by their appearances, which supposedly dictated their

wore the kindest masks, and those deemed the dregs by the successful could