Chapter 148
Henley leaned against the tilted hospital bed, each slightly deeper breath tugging at the stitches in his abdomen, bringing a sharp, clear pain.
"Alright, my head's spinning, and my body feels like a leaking bag, but my memory—well, it shouldn't have drained out with the blood."
Henley closed his eyes, his brows furrowing tightly as he started to recall, "I remember those people. They didn't just show up out of nowhere at the safehouse. Earlier, from the moment Laura took Ms. Lorraine away from the company and headed to the first bar, I already sensed we were being tailed."
"Two groups, taking turns covering each other, keeping their distance. Their skills weren't top-notch, but they were disciplined. Clearly, they'd had some basic training—not just random street thugs thrown together."
"After the ladies entered the first bar, I decided I had to eliminate any potential threat. I showed myself and warned the guy who looked like their leader. I made it crystal clear that the people he was following were under special protection. I told him to take his crew and get lost immediately, and to never show up in their line of sight again."
Henley paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as if swallowing a bitter wave of self-blame, "He acted very cooperative at the time. Said they'd got the wrong person, and without any hesitation, he took his men and quickly left, disappearing around the corner. I watched for a few minutes, confirmed they'd really left the area with no sign of coming back. So, I let my guard down."
"I thought it was over. Maybe it was just some clueless new gang, or really a stupid case of mistaken identity. It was my mistake, Mr. Luca. I shouldn't have been fooled by their act. I should've done a more thorough check for tails and cleared the route when they moved to the safehouse. I'm asking for your punishment."
As his words fell, a heavy silence filled the hospital room.
Henley waited, bracing himself for Vitale's cold judgment or an angry outburst. Maybe that would make him feel a little better.
But all he got was a long, unending silence.
Vitale just sat there, leaning forward slightly, hands clasped under his chin. His face showed no expression—no anger, no disappointment, not even his usual icy demeanor.
It was a blankness wrapped in extreme exhaustion, and somehow, that felt more unsettling than any emotion.
Henley's heart sank bit by bit. The pressure of that silence was worse than any scolding.
Just as he was almost unable to bear it and was about to speak again, to tear into his own failures with harsher words, Vitale finally moved.
He let out an extremely faint, long sigh.
"No, I can't punish you."
Henley's head snapped up, his eyes full of shock and confusion.
He thought he'd misheard.
Vitale didn't look at him, his gaze still distant, though the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, "Because just now, before Aria left, she flipped me off."
Henley's face filled with panic and disbelief, "Mr. Luca, I'm so sorry. Please don't take her nonsense to heart. She doesn't understand anything!"
"She's just too scared, too worried. She doesn't even know what she did. If you're going to punish someone, punish me. Please don't take it out on her!"
Henley was frantic, stumbling over his words. He even tried to struggle out of bed, but the sudden movement pulled at his wound. He gasped in pain, collapsing back onto the bed, cold sweat instantly beading on his forehead as he breathed heavily.
Vitale watched his desperate attempt to defend Aria, the trace of self-mockery on his face fading, replaced by another deeper, weary sigh.
"I said I won't."
"This isn't the time to dwell on that. Punishing you or getting hung up on a scared, impulsive woman who spoke out of turn won't help me find Isabella at all."
"It'll just mean I have one less person who can think straight, and it'll make your gutsy girlfriend hate my guts so much she'd want to bite my head off every time she sees me."
Vitale forcibly pushed aside these irrelevant distractions, his gaze sharpening again, "Right now, Isabella is still missing. The captives we have are keeping their mouths shut, and we can't squeeze out a single useful piece of info."
"On Frand's end, he just got into the outer circle of Eldoria's Thorn of Justice through Blake's contacts. Whether he's alive or dead, or what level he can reach, is still unknown."
"So, Henley, your value right now isn't in lying here begging for punishment or worrying if I'm going to settle scores with your little girlfriend later."
"Your value is in getting better as fast as you can, getting that damn brain of yours working again, and digging out every single fragment of memory from that night without missing a thing. Help me find Isabella. That's a million times more important than any punishment you could take."
Henley met his gaze, a storm of complicated emotions churning in his chest.
He nodded hard, even though the motion made his vision blur, "Yes, I understand. I'll recover as fast as I can. I'll find Ms. Lorraine."
"Thinking back now, those people were definitely not just random thugs hired by Thorn of Justice. Their early tracking and later attack showed clear tactical coordination."
"Especially the timing and location of the attack, and the use of those dirty drugs to create chaos—it all shows they didn't just have a plan, but also some understanding of Ms. Lorraine and Laura's movements. Behind this..."
"I've already figured out that part," Vitale cut him off, his voice laced with cold irritation and disdain, "It's Marina, that woman whose head is filled with nothing but jealousy and stupidity."
"Marina?" Henley felt surprised again, "She planned this out of jealousy?"
"Yes, you heard right," Vitale's lips curled into a smile, but it held no warmth, only pure mockery, "Marina wants me—or, more accurately, she can't stand losing to Isabella."
"She thinks Isabella doesn't deserve it, so she wanted to teach her a lesson, make her back off, or at least suffer a bit."
"As for targeting Laura, the reason is even more ridiculous. She said Amboni grew up with her, and a common woman like Laura doesn't deserve him, so she wanted to show Laura her place, too."
"Typical crazy logic, expressing the most vicious jealousy in the dumbest way possible."
Henley listened, understanding dawning on him, though his frown didn't ease, "But Marina alone could never connect with an organization like Thorn of Justice, let alone command those well-coordinated attackers."
"At most, she's just a bait someone used. Or maybe her actions conveniently gave Thorn of Justice the perfect excuse to step in?"
Vitale nodded, a cold glint in his eyes, "Exactly. Marina is just a clumsy, self-destructive pawn. Thorn of Justice likely had their eyes on us—or on Amboni—for a while now."
"They exploited Marina's jealousy and stupidity, cleverly disguising a kidnapping or revenge plot against us as a personal vendetta over some petty romantic rivalry involving a mafia mistress."
"This way, they achieve their goal while temporarily throwing us off track, maybe even stirring up internal conflict. It's smart, but also incredibly sly."
"So, Marina has already paid the price for her pathetic jealousy, but the real enemy, and the possibly even deeper-hidden mastermind Barton, are still in the shadows. And Isabella is in their hands."
Henley fully grasped the complexity of the current situation.
"So, Mr. Luca, what do you want me to do now?"
"I can move. Right now, even. You know these tubes and bandages can't hold me back."
As Henley spoke, he actually reached to pull out the IV needle in the back of his hand.
"Stop it, Henley!" Vitale suddenly growled, his voice thick with the irritation he'd suppressed all night.
He stood up, pacing restlessly by the narrow hospital bed for a couple of steps, his footsteps heavy. Then he stopped abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose hard, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
"I haven't slept a wink all night!" Vitale's voice was hoarse, burdened by dark circles under his eyes and a desperate, beast-like growl of someone pushed to the edge, "I'm beyond irritated! I'm on edge! Every second feels like a knife cutting into my flesh! I don't want to waste any more energy teaching you how to act like a patient and stay in bed to heal! I don't want to argue about whether your broken body can even stand right now!"
He suddenly leaned forward, gripping the bed rails on either side with both hands, looming over Henley. His bloodshot blue eyes locked onto him with an intense stare.
"So, listen to me. Right now, immediately, all you need to do is one thing. Use that brain of yours that hasn't been smashed yet—not your battered, bleeding body—and recall every single detail. Every detail about the attackers from that night! Their smell! Their sounds! Every word they said! The way they walked! The look in their eyes! Anything that felt off! Everything! Don't miss a single thing! Tell me! Got it?"
The last words were almost a roar.
Henley was stunned by this sudden outburst, but it also snapped him back to reality.
He realized how stupid and pointless his earlier actions had been.
He lowered his hand, no longer trying to touch the IV, and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, pounding from both the pain and Vitale's anger. He forced himself back into a state of intense focus.
Time ticked by, second by second, in a terrifying silence.
Only the steady beeping of the machines and their suppressed breathing broke the quiet.
After what felt like forever, Henley slowly opened his eyes, his gaze sharp and resolute. Though his voice was still weak, it carried a clear, undeniable certainty.
"The smell, besides the blood, sweat, and the heavy stench of cheap tobacco on a few of them during the fight."
"During the chaos, when one of them tried to lock me from behind to let his buddy grab Ms. Lorraine, I caught a very distinct scent."
"It was faint but clear. Not the fishy smell of a lake, but seawater, salty and briny, mixed with the unique scent of a dock—rust, old wood, and a faint trace of diesel."
"That smell was fresh, not like something lingering on clothes for a day or two. It was more like he'd been in that environment for a long time, very recently."
"And," Henley added, his tone growing heavier, "the guy with the seawater smell moved very cleanly. When he tried to lock my neck, the angle was tricky, the force quick and sharp. It was a standard close-combat technique, aimed at subduing instantly, not just random thrashing. This guy had serious professional training. Definitely not some low-level thug."
A chilling, icy smirk tugged at Vitale's lips, a smile that sent shivers down the spine.
"Don't worry," his voice was low, like a whisper from hell, "No matter how tough their bones are, I have ways to crack them open, grind them to dust. As long as it gets me information about Isabella, I don't mind dismantling every single bone in their bodies to see what secrets are hidden inside."
A destructive madness flickered in his eyes again, almost overpowering his reason.
Henley saw it and felt a deeper worry settle in.
After a moment of hesitation, he lowered his voice and cautiously reminded, "Mr. Luca, if they do come forward with an exchange offer later, I think, until we're absolutely sure Ms. Lorraine is safe, those captives—especially the ones who know key information—should be kept alive, if possible."
"After all, a living tongue can tell us a lot more than a dead body."