Chapter 462
“Theresa.” Horace finally spoke up. “That’s enough. We’re all here, and you’re hitting our third–floor administrator right in front of us. I’d advise you not to get too full of yourself.”
A sharp crack split the air as Theresa slapped him hard enough to send him stumbling.
“Full of myself? I couldn’t be fuller of myself than you. I hauled people across half the world to rescue you, and you turned around and fed us to the zombies. Then, you dropped in unannounced like some big shot king of the world. You think I’m arrogant? You’ve got me beat by a mile.”
She glared at him, voice hard as steel. “You’re old enough to know better, but you spend your days stirring up trouble, throwing your weight around, and acting like everyone has to put up with you. Newsflash: they don’t.”
Her palm landed on Horace’s face again, then again, quick and sharp, each slap ringing out in the room.
Theresa had always believed in treating everyone as equals–whether they were ninety–nine or barely walking. She never hesitated to hit someone who deserved it, and she never played favorites based on looks or status.
After finishing with Horace, her gaze slid to the strikingly handsome Morgan.
He met her eyes without flinching. His thin lips curved into a faint smile, and he said two simple words. “Well done.”
The other two men looked as if they’d swallowed lemons.
Theresa, still riding the adrenaline, lowered her hand. If Morgan had said anything else, he wouldn’t have gotten off so easily.
“Alright,” she said, dropping into her seat again. “Now that we’ve cleared the air, let’s talk. You’re guests here. Tell me what you want.”
Silence hung over the room.
Morgan thought for a moment before answering. “We want to head back
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Chapter 462 Terms on the Table
tomorrow.”
“No.”
They stared at her.
“Then, when can we go back?”
“Whenever you want.”
“Then, we want to leave tomorrow.”
“No.”
The silence grew heavier.
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“Then, we’ll stay here for a few days,” Morgan said at last. “I like it here, and you can give us a proper tour.”
“Fine.”
With Theresa’s not–so–subtle insistence, Morgan’s group agreed to remain for the time being. She handed him a communicator so he could leave a message for his people, letting them know he’d be staying at her camp a little longer. Fresh chapters posted on
Once that minor detail was settled, they all sat down to a civil dinner.
Morgan kept the conversation on light topics–food, local dishes–while Theresa answered in kind. The rest of the table sat with their heads down, unwilling to risk a word.
When the meal ended, Morgan smiled at her. “By the way, I haven’t seen your camp leader yet. Who is it?”
Theresa didn’t miss a beat. “She’s busy. I’ll introduce you when she has time.”
“Alright.” He let it drop.
After dinner, Theresa had them escorted back to their villa, posting guards inside and out with strict orders not to let them leave. She herself stayed next door at Lucas‘ place.
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“How’d it go?” Lucas asked.
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“They’re quiet for now. I’ll let them go once they’ve decided what they’re willing to
offer.”
Lucas nodded.
Just then, Xavier showed up. “Theresa.”
“Old Mr. Keaton.”
“Morgan and the others were here?”
“They were.” She gave him a short rundown of the so–called talks.
In truth, nothing had been negotiated. Morgan’s group wanted to leave without offering anything in return–an impossible demand.
Theresa wasn’t about to make the first move either.
She’d put on a show of force, and sooner or later they’d realize that if they wanted out, they’d have to make her an offer.
The first matter would be Ark Camp One’s stance toward the Alliance–would they seek alliance, or choose hostility?
If they wanted to be enemies, she’d kill them where they stood. If they wanted to ally, the details would have to be hammered out carefully.
Either way, Morgan’s side would have to start the conversation. She wasn’t going to ask.
They were in her hands now, and she intended to keep it that way. If they wouldn’t deal, they could sit tight here indefinitely.
That night, Morgan asked if he could take a walk with her.
Theresa agreed and met them at the door. He brought only Horace and Brian, both with swollen faces. No guards were allowed.
Morgan didn’t object. He simply followed her out.
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Chapter 462 Terms on the Table
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Once they left the villa district, the group stepped into a bustling night market.
Morgan and the others froze in their tracks, eyes wide.
A night market.
There was actually a night market here.
The street teemed with residents strolling past and vendors selling their stuff, everyone smiling and chatting as if the outside world’s dangers were nothing more than a bad dream.
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