Chapter 50

Mr. Thomas tightened his grip on Annabelle's shoulder, his expression grave. "It is you," he asserted, his voice tinged with urgency. "The middle scholar from the hospital. Why did you run away? The police could have helped you."

Annabelle's eyes flickered with defiance. "I don't need their help," she replied curtly. "I can't trust them."

Confusion clouded Mr. Thomas's features. "What?" he exclaimed, taken aback by her response.

"You don't need to help me," Annabelle continued, her tone resolute. "That was in the past."

But Mr. Thomas persisted, his determination unwavering. "You were locked in here just now," he pointed out. "The man who lives here brought you here, right? Did you know that he had been looking for you for the past 15 years?"

Annabelle's confusion deepened, her brow furrowing in thought. Meanwhile, David remained a silent observer, his attention momentarily diverted.

Suddenly, something caught David's eye, and he shifted his gaze. "Hey!" he exclaimed, drawing Mr. Thomas's attention.

Following David's gaze, Mr. Thomas's eyes widened in realization. "Bro--!" David interjected, his voice filled with surprise as I walked in—

But before David could finish his sentence, Mr. Thomas interrupted, his accusatory tone cutting through the air. "You busted! You abducted a woman," he accused, brandishing his criminal whipping rod. "I caught you red-handed."

With a surge of anger, Mr. Thomas lashed out, aiming a blow at me. But I was quick to react, dodging the attack with ease.

Undeterred, Mr. Thomas continued his assault, his blows raining down on me. Yet, my reflexes were sharp, and I managed to evade each strike.

Frustration flickered across Mr. Thomas's face as I deftly blocked one of his hits. "Your arm will break, just give it up," Mr. Thomas warned, his voice laced with irritation.

But I remained steadfast, my determination unyielding. "Just leave and stop!" I implored, my voice ringing with authority.

Mr. Thomas's expression twisted into a sneer. "What? You evil bastard!" he spat, renewing his onslaught.

Refusing to back down, I seized Mr. Thomas's hand, my grip firm. "I said stop it," I commanded, my voice commanding attention. "You won't remember or understand, but don't get in my way. Leave!"

Mr. Thomas's smirk faltered, replaced by a look of defiance. "I'll do whatever it takes to lock you up," he declared, his tone resolute. "What have you done to that poor woman?"

My teeth clenched together tightly as I addressed Mr. Thomas, my voice dripping with anger. "Poor woman?" I seethed. "She killed my family!"

Mr. Thomas's disbelief was surprising as he recoiled, his expression a mixture of shock and disdain. "What?" he exclaimed incredulously. "You bastard! Are you high?"

A surge of fury washed over me at his accusation. "I see," Mr. Thomas sneered. "You must be strong because you're a junkie."

Before he could launch another attack, I seized his neck and slammed him to the ground, my actions fueled by a tumult of emotions. But as his body hit the floor, a flood of memories washed over me—memories of our last moments together, father and son, before he passed away in a previous life. The love I had felt for him then pierced through the haze of anger, and I released my grip, my resolve faltering.

"Don't stand in my way," I warned, my voice strained with emotion. "Leave! It will all come to an end today."

As I rose to my feet, Mr. Thomas mirrored my actions, his determination unyielding. "One of us won't make it out alive today," he declared, shedding his jacket in preparation for the impending confrontation.

But before the altercation could escalate further, Annabelle emerged from the room, her voice cutting through the tension. "Stop!" she commanded, her tone firm.

Mr. Thomas hesitated, his gaze flickering to Annabelle as she approached him. "Stop it!" she repeated, her eyes blazing with intensity. "He didn't kidnap me."

Confusion clouded Mr. Thomas's features as Annabelle continued to speak. "I know him well," she asserted, her voice unwavering.

I watched in disbelief as Annabelle turned to me, her words echoing in the room. "He's been..." she began, but her voice trailed off as our eyes met, "helping me!" She spat.

With a sudden clarity, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The realization hit me like a thunderbolt, because have never helped her before and the words of the Black Soul echoed in my mind: "Bring the woman here. Our real enemy is her."

With determination coursing through my veins, I turned to Annabelle. "Follow me," I instructed, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.

As I made my way out of the house, Mr. Thomas, David, and Annabelle followed suit, stepping into the cool evening air. Annabelle turned to Mr. Thomas, her tone gentle but firm. "You should go, detective," she urged. "I'm really fine."

Mr. Thomas addressed Annabelle with a mixture of concern and determination. "I know you said no earlier, but you are Annabelle Keys, right?" he questioned, his tone earnest. "I believe you when you say that Imoogi Vampire is coming. I can help you."

Annabelle shook her head adamantly, her expression resolute. "No, no, no," she insisted. "You can't help me."

Her gaze shifted to where I sat in the car, observing the scene unfold. "Only that man can help me," she declared, her words laden with conviction.

Inside the car, I maintained my focus on the road ahead as Annabelle approached. Mr. Thomas's confusion was obvious as he turned to her, seeking answers. "Who the hell is he?" he demanded, his frustration was no bond.

But Annabelle offered no response, simply bowing her head and making her way towards me. As she entered the car, Mr. Thomas's bewilderment only deepened.

"What on earth is going on?" he muttered, his gaze lingering on the departing vehicle.

Beside him, David shared in his confusion, tapping Mr. Thomas's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. "You know, right?" he remarked. "Where are they going all of a sudden?"

I drove away from the scene, the uncertainty hanging in the air like a heavy fog. Mr. Thomas's frustration boiled over, his confusion manifesting in his actions.

"What a classic case of CDO," David quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

"CDO?" Mr. Thomas echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Chaos, destruction, and ob—" David began, but before he could finish his sentence, Mr. Thomas pushed him away in frustration. "Damn it! Forget it," he snapped, his gaze fixed on the disappearing car.

Determined to uncover the truth, Mr. Thomas made his way towards his own vehicle, intent on trailing us. David called after him, pleading to be included, "hey! Why are you all leaving me here all alone? It's scary and crazy in there." David pointed inside the house, but his words fell on deaf ears to Mr. Thomas.

Meanwhile, as we drove through the desolate landscape, Annabelle's thoughts turned to her youngest sister. "Let me call my youngest sister," she suggested, her voice tinged with concern.

But I shook my head firmly, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "You don't have to call her or worry about her anymore," I asserted, my tone unwavering.

Confusion clouded Annabelle's features as she turned to me, seeking clarification. "Hey, she's my sister," she protested. "Why do you keep saying that—"

But I cut her off before she could finish her sentence, my voice sharp with conviction. "Staying with you will put her in danger," I explained tersely. "She could get hurt because of you. How could you keep her by your side?"

Annabelle's eyes softened with emotion as she spoke. "That's because I couldn't send my younger sister to a stranger," she confessed. "I have to protect her. She's my only family."