NovelEnglishChapter 703:
From his elevated stance, Verruckt dissected her every movement with the precision of a scalpel. The fragile
woman before him bore no resemblance to the assassin who had fought him tooth and nail in the laboratory. And
her logic was hard to dismiss.
All the evidence stacked against her felt too convenient, like a poorly written story where the villain wore a neon
sign. But convenience was a double-edged sword. It could be the truth or a well-crafted lie.
The break room hung heavy with silence, broken only by the rhythmic drip of water somewhere nearby, each
drop a quiet punctuation to the growing tension. Confusion sat on everyone's faces like an unwanted guest,
leaving them unsure whether to breathe or brace for impact.
“Makebelieve you.” Verruckt’s voice cut through the quiet like frost on a spring morning. “Take off your
clothes.” He recalled that both of them had been somewhat wounded in his recent battle with the assassin,
albeit the obvious wound on her arm could be concealed.
The audience was perplexed, lowering their heads and gasping together.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtEven Jareth, usually as composed as a stone monument, blinked in surprise.
This was not the Verruckt he knew. In the past, suspicion alone was enough to end a life; innocence was rarely a
currency accepted in his court. Yet, here he was, offering an opportunity unheard of — a lifeline that seemed
suspicious in itself.
Jareth’s thoughts snapped back to Verruckt’s rare admission not long ago: Alice had been granted an exception.
Now, a second one was handed down with baffling ease.
Allison, who was prepared, wiped away her tears and spoke with hope. “If I do this, will I live?”
Verruckt’'s gaze bore into hers, his words deliberate and unyielding. “It’s possible.”
With a trembling breath, she nodded. “Alright.”
Shand vulnerability painted her cheeks crimson, but she complied, slipping out of her top to reveal a plain
white tank beneath. Her body was a canvas of injuries, each mark a grim testament to recent chaos. From her
arms to her collarbone, scratches crisscrossed her skin like a map of misfortune. They weren't clean cuts from a
blade but jagged streaks that screamed of something else entirely.
“What caused these?” Verruckt's sharp eyes roved over her, his frown deepening.
« ” . 5
It was the coffee can,” Allison said,
glancing down at her own eile
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Verruckt's gaze, sharp as a knife,
lingered on her. The wounds, indeed,
told a tale that matched the kind of
, \
damage you'd expeqt (omcshres
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cengsh JFor reasons he couldn't
quite grasp, the longer he stared, the
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more irritated he grew. It wasn't
about whether she was the assassin.
No, it reminded him of subject 001 —
someone who used to bear injuries
like these. The content is on
novelenglish.net! Read the latest
chapter there!
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