Chapter 820 Goodbye, Crimson Organization

• The Eastern girl before him looked delicate, almost fragile. But deep in her eyes, the killing intent simmered cold and real. It wasn’t an act. It was murder etched into her bones. The middle-aged man felt a chill crawl up his spine. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed a girl this lovely and slender could stare like that—like a blade pressed to his throat.
• He glanced at the driver and the woman passed out in the back of the van, then clutched his fingers—already bent out of shape—and sweat slid down his temples. He swallowed hard, nerves shot, and bobbed his head.
• Olivia Carter found his sense of self-preservation satisfactory.