"Aren't You Afraid I Have Ulterior Motives Against You?"

Cynthia dragged the steel pipe in her hand, picked up her bag, and dialed the police's number on her phone. Previously, rumors of Cynthia's ruthless nature were just that—rumors. Now, witnessing her single-handedly incapacitating that group of men with broken arms and legs made their hearts tremble uncontrollably.

"This damn... She's coming! She's coming!" The man in the driver's seat grabbed the brush cut's arm in a panic.

The brush cut involuntarily broke out in a cold sweat on his forehead, his heartbeat racing out of control. However, Cynthia didn't appear beside them; instead, she walked straight towards the dark purple Lykan Hypersport.

The car window lowered slowly, revealing the exquisite and stunning face of the man inside. His face, comparable to Tristan's, didn't lose its charm even in the dim light, enhancing his features to look more profound and three-dimensional.