Chapter 135

Only then did Nicolas put down his cup. "Don't be nervous. I'm here to ask about someone. I'll send you all the information later."

"Looking for someone?" Brannon was stunned. "Who is it? It doesn't matter. Mr. Hendrix, don't worry about troubling me. As long as it's within my ability, I can find a cat or a dog, let alone a person." Darwin rolled his eyes at Brannon's fawning demeanor.

Nicolas thought about Thea's unanswered messages from the past few days and felt frustrated. He said, "After I send you the information, find her as soon as possible. I'm in a hurry."

Brannon's displeasure was evident, though he concealed it. He rushed back to his room and found an empty bed. Thea, who should have been there, had vanished. Goosebumps covered his body. "What's going on?" he muttered. He clearly remembered that when he left, Thea was already under the influence of the drug. He knew its potency: it induced sleep and memory loss. Her disappearance was unacceptable.

However, Nicolas was still in the hotel, so he couldn't launch a full-scale search. He quickly called his men, berating them fiercely: "What are you waiting for? Find her! Check the surveillance footage! Where else could she hide? If we don't find her tonight, you're all dead!" The men left Thea's room, but no one noticed the few drops of blood amidst the scattered debris on the floor.

Thea, hidden in the closet, felt completely out of control. Every time she neared unconsciousness, she cut her arm with a shard of glass. She owed her escape to the survival skills honed during her time alone in Yurtinas. She had faced countless life-threatening situations, relying on her own resourcefulness to escape. She was like resilient grass weathering a storm, her strength born of hardship.

The footsteps faded. Thea, drenched in sweat, her clothes clinging to her body, was bleeding profusely. The smell of iron filled the air. Brannon, seemingly meticulous, had been an idiot, missing such an obvious sign.

After the footsteps were gone, Thea waited ten minutes, then emerged from the closet. She had to find Corey immediately. Afraid of being discovered, she left her phone behind.

Walking down the corridor, Thea felt feverish and dizzy. Her wounded arm was terrifying. She tried to fight it off, but it was too late.

"Found her!" someone shouted.

Thea's heart leaped. She slashed her hand again with the shard and ran, heedless of the pain. Reaching Corey's door, she pounded frantically, shouting indistinctly, "Corey, we have a contract! If anything happens to me, you're implicated! Open the door!" The footsteps behind her grew closer. Despair washed over her. Her body went limp; she slumped to the ground, her eyelids heavy. The pain in her arm was fading, signaling approaching unconsciousness. Brannon would find her a mindless puppet.

The next second, she was roughly pulled up, the rescuer cursing. The door opened, and a man emerged, radiating a cold, menacing aura. His gaze was like a sharp knife, capable of slicing his enemies to pieces. Brannon burst onto the scene. Seeing Nicolas, he inwardly cursed his men's incompetence. He stepped forward, saying, "Mr. Hendrix, I apologize. This is my girlfriend. She's been acting out, doing some… extreme things. I wanted to teach her a lesson, but she ran off and caused this. Don't worry, I'll punish her severely." "Girlfriend?" Nicolas stared coldly at Thea, who was beyond reason, but instinctively resisted. Tears streamed down her beautiful face. Brannon quickly signaled his men, who nodded in agreement. "Yes, she's my girlfriend. They can vouch for me."

Nicolas's gaze turned icy. His bodyguard stepped forward, grabbed Brannon's collar, and punched him hard. Stunned, Brannon fell to the ground. He looked up to see Nicolas lighting a cigarette, his handsome face even colder in the smoke.

A cold, steady voice, like a demon's, cut through the air: "Your woman? I didn't know she was your girlfriend."

Brannon was shocked. He'd known Thea was attractive and well-bred, but Corey had never mentioned her connection to Nicolas, nor had anyone else. Had he known, he wouldn't have dared to act.

"Mr. Hendrix," Brannon pleaded.

Nicolas scooped Thea into his arms. Her forehead was burning; she unconsciously pressed against his chest, murmuring his name. The coldness left Nicolas as he heard her call out, "NicolasNicolas." Even in the gravest danger, she still sought him.

Brannon, bowing profusely, begged forgiveness. "Mr. Hendrix, I didn't mean to. I didn't know her identity. I thought…" Before he could finish, he received another slap.

The bodyguard sneered. "Do you think Miss Rowland would still want you after Mr. Hendrix?"

"No, no!" Brannon frantically shook his head. "I deserve to die. But Mr. Hendrix, we're distant relatives, please spare me!"

Nicolas had lost patience. He coldly gestured to his bodyguard. "There's more he's not saying. Take him away and get the truth. Use whatever methods are necessary."