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Novel Catalog
Chapter 97: Mr. Yarwood Wants to Save Her
“I don’t care what methods you use! I don’t want to see her in Southdale again!” Wanda snapped, slamming the phone down in irritation.
She didn’t enjoy making things difficult, but it was like dealing with a troublesome pet. Despite everything, she still had some lingering feelings for Wynter, but Wynter’s persistence in staying connected to the Yates family was unbearable.
As Wanda fumed, an idea struck her. She pulled out her phone again and quickly typed out a message.
That night, long after the city had settled into silence, Wynter finally returned to Waterview Alley. Normally, she didn’t mind the darkness when the streetlights were out, but tonight was different. The moment she entered the alley, a sense of unease washed over her. She could feel the presence of several figures trailing behind her.
She carried her black bag casually, but her smile was cool, almost as if anticipating trouble.
A man stood next to the second streetlamp, casting a long shadow. He was tall, elegant, and noble, and even the dim lighting seemed to accentuate his presence in the otherwise dingy alley.
It was her patient—Dalton. What was he doing here?
Wynter raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She hadn’t expected to see him outside the hospital.
Dalton flicked the beaded bracelet around his wrist and glanced at her. “Dr. Genius, why bring these annoying people with you?”
His voice was light, but his pale complexion and fragile appearance suggested he wasn’t in the best of health.
She gave him a pointed look. “Leave now,” she said, her tone calm but firm. “If things escalate, I won’t be able to protect you.”
Dalton didn’t budge. His focus was locked on the group of thugs emerging from the shadows, his expression turning cold.
One of the gangsters smirked, taking a step forward. “Are you trying to be a hero?” he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.
“Pretty boy,” another sneered, “You’d better think twice before trying to save this beauty.”
The six men trailing behind Wynter stepped into view, their rough, menacing looks matching their brutish builds. Some had scars, others were clearly muscular. They sized Dalton up with disdain.
“F**k off!” one of them yelled, taking a menacing step toward him. “Don’t stand in our way!”
Before the thug could lay a hand on Dalton, Wynter was on him in an instant. She grabbed his wrist with remarkable force and twisted, throwing him to the ground in one smooth motion.
She stood over him, her expression icy. “Do you know how precious my patient is?” she asked coldly.
With swift precision, she kicked the man in the chest, breaking his grip and sending him sprawling. Her attack was so calculated, so well-placed, that the man couldn’t even scream in pain. The others hesitated, their eyes flicking between each other, unsure of how to proceed.
Then, without warning, they rushed at her all at once.
Wynter smirked, her stance relaxed as she swung her black bag, knocking one of the gangsters down with effortless force.
For a moment, the remaining thugs hesitated, fear creeping into their minds as they began to sense the danger in front of them. They were ready to flee, but it was already too late.
One of the men barely saw Wynter move before she appeared behind him, her hand tight around his neck. With a brutal shove, she slammed him against the wall, the sound of the impact echoing in the alley.
The man struggled to breathe, his eyes wide with panic, as his body trembled under the pressure.
Wynter, unfazed by the chaos, kept her gaze locked on him. Her coldness, the complete lack of emotion in her expression, made her seem more like a killer than a doctor.
The thug’s face turned pale, his whole body breaking out in a cold sweat. He gasped for air, his chest heaving with desperation.
Wynter pressed down with unrelenting force. “Who sent you here?” she demanded, her voice sharp and threatening.
The thug’s eyes darted around in fear, but he couldn’t speak. His body trembled uncontrollably.
Wynter’s gaze hardened. She wasn’t buying his fear for a second. There was no way the Gibsons were behind this. Hilda wouldn’t see her as a threat, much less as someone to be silenced.
She tightened her grip, willing the thug to speak.
