Chapter 8 The Phone Call

• Oliver’s blood boiled as the voice on the phone finished speaking. His answer was written plainly in his glare. His fists tightened until his knuckles went white.
• “Like I’ve said before, and I’ll keep saying it,” Oliver growled, “I don’t need help from anybody—especially not you. You’re the last person I’d ever turn to.”
• On the other end, Charlie’s amused chuckle was audible. “The ball’s in your court, my great-grandson. I suppose you enjoy suffering.”
• “Don’t ever call this number again.”
• He ended the call without hesitation, his eyes immediately shifting toward the VIP lounge.
• “I’m coming for you, Zora.”
• Oliver pushed himself upright, groaning from the pain but refusing to stop. He staggered toward the lounge, each step fueled by determination. The moment Luke leaned toward Zora, ready to have his way, Oliver burst in—grabbing him and shoving him violently away from her.
• Luke’s eyes flared. “You’ve got some nerve showing your face here!”
• “You like it rough, Luke? Fine,” Oliver shot back. “Just let Zora go already. Is that really so hard for you?”
• Zora hurried to Luke, falling to her knees in desperation. “Please, let him be, Luke! You can do whatever you want to me.”
• Luke ignored her plea. “Wei! Wei!”
• Wei entered the lounge, only to freeze at the sight of Oliver standing there.
• “Assemble your private army—Team Elite, precisely. I want this garbage dealt with.”
• Wei blinked, pointing to himself. “Me?”
• “Of course you,” Luke snapped. “You’re a top personnel in Team Elite. Gather them here to take care of this kid.”
• Wei stammered, visibly uneasy. Luke, losing patience, turned to his guards instead.
• “Just because I let you live last time,” Luke sneered at Oliver, “you thought I’d take it easy on you again? I’m more than ready for you this time.”
• He dropped into a seat beside Zora. “I won’t touch you, but this teen’s life is at stake. He’ll die so you can be free.”
• At his signal, the guards swarmed Oliver, shoving him to the floor. One seized his head, forcing it down, while another snapped a sharp kick under his chin. A third guard hammered three blows into Oliver’s stomach. Luke reclined in his seat, watching the beating like a spectator at a show.
• Zora’s hands trembled. “Stop! Please, stop!”
• But Luke only smiled. “Make him suffer.”
• One guard lifted Oliver, ready to smash him into the glass table.
• “Stop!” Zora’s voice cracked. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me—just don’t kill Oliver!”
• Luke considered her for a moment, then signaled the guard to release him. Oliver collapsed, barely able to move, his voice faint as he tried to talk Zora out of her decision.
• Luke’s grin widened. “Come on, then. Get to work. I want to finish without even touching you.”
• Oliver groaned in protest, helpless to stop her.
• Then—
• “Yaaah!” Luke howled, staggering back. Zora had sunk her teeth into him. Wei couldn’t hold back a laugh.
• “How dare you bite me?!” Luke roared, shoving her away. His rage boiled over as he turned to his guards. “Beat him again!”
• Oliver, gasping, reached for his phone. Through gritted teeth, he told Luke, “This phone call will be the end of your stupidity.”
• Luke raised a hand, halting his men. “Let’s see how this magical phone call of yours helps you.”
• Oliver made the call. “I’m ready,” he told the receiver.
• The words had barely left his mouth when the lounge doors exploded inward. A flood of armed soldiers poured in, boots pounding against the floor in perfect unison.
• Wei’s eyes went wide. “Team Elite! How on earth is this possible?”