Let Me Go, Mr.Lancaster!

Stan's lips pursed into a thin line. He was walking down memory lane as he recalled their conversation the last time they met. He was mad; he felt betrayed. Sure, he had no right to feel that way and should not be concerned about Hope. But he was undoubtedly worried about the young lady. With no preamble, he picked up his jacket and stood up.

"I'm going now," he said. He strode through the double brass doors in quick, long agitated strides.

"Where to?" Ashton curiously asked. "We're just getting started. Come on, don't spoil the mood."

Rolling his knuckles into balls, he answered, "I'm sorry, but I really have to go. There is something I need to work on with."

"Is that so? Okay, go fuck yourself somewhere. I'm gonna swim in these liquors until the moon falls and the sun rises."

Stan shot Ashton with a glare and left him in a flash. He dialed Hope's number and immediately hit the call button.

Meanwhile, at the entrance of Sybarite, Hope rested her back against the cold wall. She was damn exhausted from that stupid game of Tom. Pulling a deep breath, she closed her eyes, soothing and pacifying herself. Her phone kept ringing since earlier, but she was beaten to the nth level to even pick it up. Several dings and rings continuously passed before she dazedly answered the call.

"Hello, who is this?"

"Where are you?"

It was as if she woke up from a bad dream and a cold water was splashed into her face.

"Answer me, Hope. Tell me where you are right now?"

She was startled by his authoritative voice.

"I'm staying in one of the VIP rooms."

"Which one?"

"I'm still celebrating my classmate's birthday in the club. What's wrong?" She needed to divert the topic.

Silence enveloped them. All she could hear was a static mumble and his deep breaths brushing through her ears. Then, she heard the sound of a flicking lighter. She thought he was smoking while talking to her.

After a while, Stan spoke again. "I'm asking which room you were in. Tell me, and I'll be there in a few."

Hope contemplated all the possible reasons for his motives. But because she recently encountered the god of death, her head was currently a complete mess, making it difficult for her to even speak, let alone think. For wherever it may lead, she decided to be honest with him.

"I'm here at the entrance hall," she informed him.

"Don't go anywhere and wait for me there. This won't take long."

Stan ended the call and hollered down to the lower ground of the parking area. All the while, she waited for him to arrive. She had no idea why he was acting up like a concerned and protective Uncle at the moment.

Hope dropped her gaze onto the ground and anxiously waited for him to come over. As he was getting nearer, her heart beat rapidly inside her chest. Once she decided to look away, a pair of expensive loafers showed up before her. Although she was in deep apprehension, she managed to tilt her head and met his dark, luminous and seductive eyes. He was towering over her with his six flat height.

"I told you to ask for my help whenever you need to, didn't I?"

"Of course, I remember what you said. It's just that I don't want to disturb you with all my troubles."

Hope looked away and fixated her gaze on his footwear. She was sure her face was as bland and pale as vinegar now. She busied herself by screening his well-designed trousers. The fabric was hugging his legs. It was perfectly ironed without an ounce of wrinkles, but even this made her stressed. Stan could only breathe out a frazzled sigh. Then he walked to his car only to realize that the pesky girl didn't follow him.

"Are you gonna stand there all night? Come here, Hope. Ride with me."

Hope averted her attention to him, but she was too shy to obey. "It's alright. I can go home on my own. Actually, I'm waiting for my friend to come over."

Stan gritted his teeth. Why was the little imp kept on resisting him? In the end, he collected her from where she stood and purposefully dragged her to his body.

"Get in the car, Hope. Don't make me repeat myself."

She stood there for a while before she got into the car. Hope kept a distance, at least an inch between them. She didn't want to make small talk, so she decided to ignore him. Instead, she busied herself looking at the city lights twinkling along the road. To be honest, she would want to crash the window glass and jump out of there.

Good thing Stan didn't interrogate her and just focused on driving. Out of nowhere, she felt the twinge of pain on her wounded neck. She was sweating profusely throughout the way.

She was disoriented as the pain heightened in full blast. Her eyes went heavy. She wanted to recline the chair and sleep. Her whole body was aching from where it shook. If not for Stan's presence, she would probably lose consciousness on the spot. She shook her head and stifled a sob. But then hot tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.

This time, she couldn't hold back her tears, and they fell against her lap one by one. She was trembling in pain and fatigue. Soon, she lost it. She fell into the darkness and dozed off.