Her cheeks were aflame with embarrassment, and she grabbed a piece of clothing nearby, throwing it

at his face to shield his eyes. With a swift movement, Ian snatched the clothes and tossed it under the

bed. “I want to see you. Maja, when did you learn to do that? Maja.” Unable to tolerate it any longer,

Maja covered his mouth, only to hear him chuckle lightly and feel him licking her palm, signaling his

playful intention. The bedroom door had been left ajar, and neither of them noticed the figure pausing at

the threshold. At the touch of the doorframe, Patric’s fingers curled slightly. The sounds from inside

were unmistakable, and after standing there briefly, he silently retreated. Back in his own room, Patric

felt a seething anger spreading through his chest, as if it sought to evaporate all the moisture from his

body. Especially Maja’s soft moans, they scratched at his heart like a cat’s claws. He rubbed at his

temples before punching the wall beside him. “Eric?” He mentally called out, but Eric offered no

response. Peeling off his jacket, Patric eyed the track marks on his arms. “Eric, you heard them, didn’t

you? The woman you adore is with your brother. You give them all the clues, and do they appreciate it?

You’re such a coward. If I were you, I’d make sure she never forgets me!” Eric and Patric were polar

opposites; where Eric was gentle as a stream, Patric was unpredictable as a storm. Now, looking at the

collection of needle marks, a cold smirk played across his lips. “Forget it. It’s pointless talking to you.

You never respond unless Maja is near. So, from now on, stay out of my way!” Another punch hit the

wall, his desire to feel his bones break almost palpable. It was only after a while that Eric’s faint voice

emerged. “I’ve told you before, those aren’t my feelings.” Patric kicked over the coffee table with

frustration, “If they’re not your feelings, then why do I feel such rage, such disgust at the sound of those

two?” Even the memory of it reignited a furious blaze within him. Eric remained silent. “Eric, no one can

stop what I’m about to do.” He turned coldly and made his way to the bathroom to wash the blood from

his fingers, but it was then that Eric finally spoke up. “You should go with them to that place.” “I’m not

going.” “Don’t you want to know the real purpose behind the project? Maybe if you go there, meet that

person, and you’ll replace out.” Patric’s brow furrowed; he was never good at deciphering Eric’s riddles.

“Really?” “Yes.” In an instant, Patric’s fists clenched. If this

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person was lying to him. Three days later. Ian’s wounds had healed enough that he didn’t have to worry

about them reopening, so he decided to take Maja for a stroll around the underground combat pit.

Despite its chaos, as Phelps had said, there was a certain order to this lawless zone, a set of rules that

governed survival. Maja paused in front of a shop, feeling a gaze fixed on her. But the crowd was too

dense, and she couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. “What’s up?” Ian asked, his ring-adorned

hand enveloping hers and lifting it to his lips for a kiss. Ever since his wounds had healed, every time

Maja was in the room, she would inevitably be pulled into bed, and their days would blur into a haze of

passion. Worried about his non-stop indulgence today, she had insisted on getting out for a bit, hoping

to avoid repeating the wantonness. “Nothing, I was just considering whether Phelps’s men might be

lurking around here already.” No sooner had she spoken than Ian moved closer, his fingers tightly

interlocking with hers. “Maja, I don’t fear whoever’s backing him, nor do I dread his arrival, as long as

you’re by my side.” He left his sentence unfinished, and she blushed at the implication. Clearing her

throat, she replied, “I know, I know. Me too.”

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