Outcast Queen: Her Return from Hell novel Chapter 193

Stepping out of Prescott Manor and sliding into the driver's seat, the freezing aura radiating from Pierce felt colder than the night air itself.

He fired up the engine and sped toward the temporary safe house at maximum velocity.

The surroundings were desolate. A few wild dogs scavenged among the dead grass.

The moment Pierce's boots hit the dirt, the animals seemed to sense a suffocating aura of pure violence. They tucked their tails, whimpered, and flattened themselves against the ground, not even daring to look up.

"Boss."

Yancy hurried forward, standing with his head bowed in absolute deference.

"Where is he?"

Pierce stopped. Two bodyguards seamlessly and silently brought over a chair. He sat down with calculated grace. The instant the hem of his coat settled, two other men dragged a middle-aged man out like a slaughtered pig.

"Mmph! Mmmph—!!"

The moment the man saw Pierce's face, it was as if he were staring directly at the Grim Reaper. He thrashed violently. But under the iron grips of the bodyguards, the struggle was utterly futile. He was forced to his knees, his head yanked back so he had to look up at the man before him.

"Lance Yates... or should I say, Sully Yates."

Pierce leaned forward slightly. His gaze scraped across the man's deathly pale face like a scalpel. "The year my mother died in that crash, you vanished into thin air. The life or death of a nobody like you shouldn't have mattered, but the timing of your disappearance was entirely too convenient."

His tone was conversational, yet laced with bone-deep absolute zero. "So, would you care to enlighten me?"

Sully's face was twisted in sheer terror as he shook his head frantically.

A bodyguard ripped the duct tape off his mouth. A desperate, ear-piercing scream erupted into the night: "Mr. Sterling! I... I don't know anything! Please, I beg you, let me go!"

Pierce lazily half-closed his eyes and gave a subtle flick of his fingers.

Yancy moved like lightning. One hand clamped around Sully's throat, lifting the grown man off the ground as easily as a ragdoll.

A crushing wave of suffocation hit Sully instantly. His eyes rolled back, and his legs kicked wildly in the air, but the massive hand remained immovable. Just as he reached the absolute threshold of passing out from oxygen deprivation, Yancy suddenly let go, letting him crash heavily onto the dirt.

Sully greedily gasped for air, his chest heaving. But before he could even take a full breath, Yancy seized his throat and hoisted him up again.

He did this three times. It was like a cat playing with a doomed mouse. When Yancy finally let go for the last time, Sully collapsed into a useless heap of flesh, barely able to draw breath.

"That's enough," Pierce ordered indifferently.

"Sully, has your memory returned?"

The man's voice was smooth and elegant, but to the utterly broken Sully, it sounded like the whisper of a demon.

Sully trembled violently. He hesitated for a split second, then gritted his teeth and shook his head again.

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