Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

With a cold snort, Quintessa finally gave in to the darkness of unconsciousness

Tyrone shook her. “Hey, Quintessa, wake up.”

But there was no response from her.

Tyrone curved his lips, pinched Quintessa’s chin, noticed her swollen cheek and the fierce glint in her eyes, then let go and said, “We’ll see if you’ll still be this disobedient after this.”

His gaze swept coldly over the two figures sprawled on the ground. One of them groaned and seemed to be trying to cram towards them. Tyrone’s lips twisted into a sinister smile as he delivered a swift kick. The man let out a muffled grunt and closed his eyes.

Bright lights appeared at the end of the alley, followed by the sound of disorderly footsteps and clamorous voices shouting “Over there,

chase them.”

There were about ten pursuers; Tyrone picked up Quintessa and ran. All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

After a few strides, he turned back, and stomped hard on the groins of the two men on the ground. “Dare to lay a hand on say woman

Tyrone had left since early moming on business. He spent his days and nights in Zion City, never idle, and had returned only after dark

Knowing that Quintessa was finishing up filming tonight, he waited until past 10 pm. When she did not show up, he went out and ran into Manny by chance.

Without hearing the full story, Tyrone had traced his way here.

Tyrone was on the phone while carrying Quintessa, rushing through the dark alley.

He felt a rush, a wild thrill he hadn’t felt since his youth. Over the years, life had become increasingly dull Without Quintessa, he could hardly feel his heartbeat.

Indeed, with her, life was a thrill.

Wolves were at their heels as he raced through the night, with his woman in his arms.

Tyrone considered leaving Quintessa behind to knock everyone down. But then he thought, what if, in a moment of inattention, she was captured and photographed naked? She was his woman, and he wouldn’t stand to be cuckolded.

After about ten minutes of a frenzied run, Tyrone’s backup finally arrived–a formidable crew that comered the pursuers.

Overpowered, the attackers were beaten to the ground, wailing, and begging for mercy.

Drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, Tyrone carried Quintessa back.

“Who sent you?” Tyrone demanded.

“We don’t know, man. Someone told our boss to grab this chick, take some compromising photos, and then, you know, and record it, and we would get a lot of money.”

Tyrone wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded, “Okay.”

His voice was as casual as if he were chatting with a stranger, no hint of the rage boiling inside him. He glanced at Quintessa, who was still unconscious, looking worse for wear.

Tyrone pinched her cheek lightly, “I could have spared you, but you should not have touched my woman.“

He turned to one of his men, “Chop off a finger.”

He said it so casually, as if it were just a trivial matter. The man nodded, pulling out a switchblade, “The blade’s a bit dull, might take a few tries. Bear with it.”

Before the blade fell, the man was already crying and pleading, “I’ll tell it. It was Ms. Roxanne Ferber, we were all following her orders.”

Tyrone nodded, content with the answer.

But then, in the next second, he ordered his men, “Break their legs, then hand them over to the cops.