“Do you see anyone else in this room?”


    Rather thanply, Mavis defiantly sank into the sofa.


    “I can’t sing.


    If you’re in the mood for music, summon a hostess.”


    Singing for others had never been Mavis’s style. She would sing when she felt like it, not to fulfill


    someone’s whims.


    However, just as she settled into the sofa, Bruce yanked the rope, causing her to clumsily tumble back.


    Bruce was still nursing a grudge. Earlier, Han hade to Marcus’s aid and injured several of his


    men, leading to heavy losses.


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    Unable to get his hands on Han, Bruce was taking out his ire on Mavis.


    For Mavis had a soft spot for Han.


    “You really are cold-hearted.”


    mping her Lips together, Mavis felt a sense of injustice wash over her.


    Bruce tightened the rope, a subtle form of discipline, before swiveling his head to converse seriously


    with Ryan.


    “She’s actually alive? She’s returned?”


    The news that Shera had faked her death caught Bruce off guard.


    Mavis managed to regain her footing and stay put on the sofa. Her thoughts, however, were awhirl. She


    sensed that the men were discussing someone who was supposed to be dead but wasn’t.


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    Ryan eyed Mavis cautiously but said nothing.


    Sensing Ryan’s distrust, Bruce shifted the subject and clinked his ss with Ryan’s.


    “Cheers,” Bruce offered.


    After the sses met, Ryan queried, “How’s your shoulder holding up?”


    He took a measured sip, eyeing Bruce’s injured area.


    Bruce made a click sound with his tongue and teeth.


    “Still a nagging pain, unfortunately.”


    The bullet had been extracted, but the difort persisted.


    Ryan slid a white pill bottle across the table.