Chapter 91

Chapter 91

At those words, the drowsiness vanished from Emily's face in an instant.

Her eyes flew wide open as she cried out, "What do you mean she's gone?! How can someone just disappear like that?! Did you call her? Maybe she went out shopping or something?"

"I called. Her phone's off." John's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "She was taken by gang members. The door was forced open. There was such a commotion—you were right next door. How could you not hear anything?"

A trace of reproach crept into John's gaze as he looked at Emily.

Emily's face drained of color. She instinctively lowered her head, fingers twisting the hem of her pajamas, her voice barely above a whisper: "I... I was watching a movie with my headphones on. The volume was really loud, so... I didn't hear anything..."

John looked at her pitiful expression, and the reprimand on the tip of his tongue died in his throat. "I've told you before—this isn't back home. Public safety abroad isn't what you think it is!"

"Even in a five-star hotel, you can't guarantee absolute security. And you still go around without a care in the world, not the slightest bit cautious."

Emily kept her head down, nodding repeatedly. Her eyes reddened instantly, her voice thick with tears: "I know I messed up... What do we do now? Bea was taken by gangsters—will she be in danger? We should call the police! Yes! Call the police!"

"Calling the police won't help." John shook his head, his eyes heavy with concern. "This morning when Bea's phone was stolen, the police couldn't have cared less when she filed a report. A kidnapping case involving local gangs? They'll care even less."

"The Luminous City police always turn a blind eye to this kind of thing. By the time they actually investigate, it'll be too late."

"Then what do we do?" Emily completely panicked, grabbing John's arm and pacing in circles. "We can't just sit here and do nothing while Bea's been taken! She's alone with those people—what if something happens to her?"

John took a deep breath, pressing his fingers against his throbbing temples. His mind raced through every connection he had, finally settling on the image of a man with smoke-blue eyes.

"I'm going out to find her." John looked at Emily, his tone brooking no argument. "You stay in the hotel. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone except me. Keep your phone on twenty-four seven. Understood?"

"Where are you going to look?" Emily immediately grabbed his arm, worry filling her eyes. "Luminous City is huge, and there are gang hideouts everywhere. If you go looking alone, isn't that like walking into the lion's den?"

"I know who to ask." John's expression darkened. "I thought that Stuart guy we ran into at the police station looked familiar. After hearing the saleswoman say Bea was taken by gangsters..."

"I suddenly remembered—his name is Damien. He's the current head of The Crimson Brotherhood."

"The Crimson Brotherhood?!" Emily gasped. "You mean the Crimson Brotherhood that has a say throughout Eldoria's entire underground?"

"And the man we saw at the police station is their boss?"

John gave a grave nod.

Emily instinctively swallowed, cold sweat breaking out on her back. She patted her chest in belated fear. "Oh my God... What do we do now? You're going to him? We're complete strangers—why would he help us?"

"He will." John's tone was certain as he strode toward the elevators. "We're all from Novaria, and Bea was taken by a local Eldorian gang. As the head of The Crimson Brotherhood, Damien can't just stand by and do nothing—whether out of sentiment or principle."

He paused, his steps never slowing. He didn't share his full plan with Emily.

He figured even if Damien didn't want to help, John could name a price he couldn't refuse.

As long as they could get Bea out safely, any cost would be worth it.

The elevator doors closed. The numbers descended rapidly.

John stood inside, pulling out his phone to make an overseas call. He spoke in low, clipped tones, instructing the person on the other end to immediately send him information on all of Damien's locations in Luminous City—and any connections that could get him in.

Meanwhile, in a standalone estate on the outskirts of Luminous City.

In a spacious room on the top floor, the lights were dim. Two men in black combat gear sparred in the center of the room, fists meeting flesh with dull thuds. Each strike carried vicious intent yet remained controlled—clearly part of routine close-combat training.

Damien reclined on a leather sofa nearby, eyes closed in rest.

He wore a loose black silk shirt. Thick bandages still wrapped his abdomen. His face retained a pallor from surgery, yet it did nothing to diminish the air of cold nobility surrounding him.

His smoke-blue eyes were closed, long lashes casting faint shadows beneath. The oppressive atmosphere around him was so heavy that everyone in the room unconsciously softened their breathing.

Only the sounds of fists colliding filled the room—quiet to the point of suffocation.

Suddenly, the door opened softly. A subordinate hurried inside.

He approached Damien, bowing slightly and leaning close to his ear. In a hushed voice, he reported: "Mr. Stuart, there's a Novarian outside asking for help. He says he wants The Crimson Brotherhood to help find someone. He also says as long as we find this person, we can name our price."

Damien's lashes flickered. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

His smoke-blue gaze held no particular emotion as it swept over the subordinate. His thin lips parted, voice carrying the rasp of someone freshly woken: "Who is it?"

The subordinate immediately lowered his head, replying respectfully: "He says his surname is Williams. His name is John. He's from back home."

Damien fell silent for two seconds, then lifted his chin slightly. His tone was flat, emotions unreadable: "Bring him in."

"Yes, sir." The subordinate immediately responded and hurried out.

Less than half a minute later, John was escorted in by two men.

The moment he entered, he felt the crushing weight of the atmosphere. The two men sparring in the center had stopped, their gazes fixed on him with undisguised scrutiny and wariness.

John acted as though he felt none of it. His gaze went straight to Damien on the sofa.

He took a deep breath and gave Damien a respectful bow with cupped fists. "Mr. Stuart, I apologize for the late-night intrusion. I had no choice. I've come to ask for your help. The person I'm looking for is my fiancée, Beatrice."

The instant those words left his mouth, Damien's fingers—resting casually on the armrest—froze abruptly. His smoke-blue eyes narrowed sharply. The look he gave John suddenly churned with an undercurrent no outsider could decipher.