The Million-Dollar Heart by Rebecca Ryan

Chapter 493

Crashing his phone to the ground, Flynn unleashed a fury of stomps upon the shattered device.

“I lost. Take me in.” Flynn’s voice dripped with laziness as he raised his hands in mock surrender, tilting his head to catch Percival’s gaze.

But then, with a swift bite, he crushed the cyanide hidden in his molar.

He had always known this day would come.

Even in death, he would not be cuffed by the likes of Percival!

Blood spilled from his mouth as he knelt, the light fading behind his designer spectacles, “Percival, you’ll never unearth the kingpin behind GTO.”

His laughter echoed through the dark alley, a spectral sound that chilled to the bone.

Yet, the agony he anticipated never arrived.

F-Poison had given him this poison, and it was a lethal concoction, sure death on contact. How was he still alive?

Lifting his head, Flynn locked eyes with Vivienne, whose expression was akin to someone watching a fool. It all clicked.

She, the Specter Healer, was behind this.

Vivienne towered over him, her aura that of a queen, “Wish to die?”

Flynn glared back, bitter. “There’s no grudge between us. My death serves you no ill!”

Her smile bloomed, radiant and short-lived, replaced by a chilling murderous intent. “Your death means nothing to me. But you dared cross Mr. Wolf. For that, I would have relished your end. However…”

Her smile returned as she said, “Since you so desire death, I won’t oblige you.”

a thousand ways to

hair behind her ear, her piercing gaze lifted slightly, “The poison I bestowed upon you, I named it ‘Mandragora.’ It will hijack your nerves. Should suicidal thoughts arise, it

you, two hours each day, gnawing at your insides while

Flynn’s pupils dilated.

claims, but knowing she was the Specter

not the dread of daily

a cold, clear chime. “Cross me, you die. Cross those I care for, and you’ll beg for death. White Tiger, if fate grants a next time, strike me first—you might find

and steady, bathed in

vow never to provoke those dear to Vivienne; a life of suffering with no escape was too grievous a

overwhelmed by the depth of

he resolved to be worthy of her for the remainder of

Vivienne rose and walked over

waiting Vanguard Agency operatives with his free hand. They stormed

one last attempt for understanding, “Flynn,

the Ellington heir so

sons, one after another, vied

the wealthiest in Rivenwood,

were the ancient warrior lineages, hidden from the

the captain of the Vanguard Agency, now

benefit. Basically, the Ellington

could not fathom why his

Flynn glanced at his father.

that, he was

resigned. Old age was

expression unreadable. Until today, he had refused to believe Flynn was White

faith in his own judgment

he was his uncle, the man he trusted more than anyone else in

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