297 A Different Mr. Satan

"Ah—"

Emily let out a scream, feeling the wind rush past her ears.

Who could it be? Sophia, Grace, or perhaps Logan Morgan, trying to silence her?

In those split seconds, countless possibilities flashed through her mind.

But then—

"Emily, don't be afraid, it's me."

Standing in front of her was a jet-black motorcycle, its design exuding an air of arrogance. The front headlights were blinding, and the engine roared. He twisted the throttle, making the engine rumble loudly.

The air was filled with a faint scent of gasoline.

Emily frowned, looking at the person on the motorcycle...

"Mr. Satan?"

He wore only a black shirt, the tie loosely draped. His face was obscured by a helmet, making him unrecognizable.

Emily recognized him by his physique and voice.

"You..." she looked at him, astonished, "What's going on?"