Mrs Prim concern

Ryan and Bell ran through the streets, putting distance between themselves and the thugs. When they finally reached the next street and realized they weren't being pursued, they stopped to catch their breath.

Ryan turned to Bell, stepping closer. He gently lifted her chin with his fingers, tilting her face toward the light to examine her wound. Bell's breath hitched as he leaned in, his face just inches from hers.

Her heart pounded.

She had never seen Ryan this way before—so focused, so fierce. She had always thought of him as overly cautious, enduring hardships in silence, maybe even a little cowardly. But the way he had fought for her today, how he had exploded with power at the sight of her being harmed, had shaken her perception of him.

As Ryan inspected her wound, she remained frozen, unsure of how to react.

After a few moments, he stepped back.

"It's not serious," he said calmly. "Just a cracked lip and a bit of bleeding inside your cheek. You'll be fine in a few days. Try to avoid spicy food—it'll sting."

Bell, who had been lost in her thoughts, blinked. Seeing him pull away, she felt a strange mix of relief and... disappointment?

Not sure how to respond, she simply nodded, and they continued their walk home in silence.

Ryan, deep in thought, was strategizing his next move. He still had an assassination mission to complete, and now, there was the matter of revenge from mad dogs gang.

Meanwhile, Bell stole glances at him from the side. His face was serious, lost in thought, and she found herself staring longer than she intended.

He actually looks kind of good when he's focused...

Heat rushed to her face. What am I thinking?!

Her mind drifted back to the fight. She had always seen Ryan as weak, but today, he had fought fiercely to protect her. As someone inexperienced in combat, she assumed it was desperation that had fueled his strength.

Then another thought crept in. Could it be that Ryan likes me?

If he did, how was she supposed to respond? He wasn't the brave, heroic type she had always imagined for herself. But rejecting him outright seemed cruel, especially after he had put his life on the line for her.

Lost in their own thoughts, they reached the restaurant just as the evening rush was about to begin.

From a distance, Mrs. Prim spotted them and waved. But as they got closer, her smile disappeared. She took one look at Ryan's tattered clothes and Bell's injured face, then dropped what she was doing and rushed toward them.

"Oh my god, my little Bell! What happened to you? Who did this? Why are you bleeding?" she cried, her voice filled with concern and anger. She turned sharply to Ryan. "Ryan, what happened? Where were you two? Was it the Mad Dogs Gang?"

Ryan opened his mouth to explain, but before he could say a word, Bell stepped forward and took her grandmother's hands.

"Calm down, Grandma," she said softly. "I'm fine. It's just a small wound. There's no need to worry. You know your health isn't good—you shouldn't stress over this."

Mrs. Prim, however, was far from calm.

She could see the faint imprint of a hand on Bell's face, evidence of a slap. And Ryan—his disheveled state suggested he had been in a fight.

She clenched her fists. Should I seek revenge? But Bell and Ryan weren't badly injured, so retaliation might be an overreaction. Ignore it? But that would make them seem weak, encouraging more trouble in the future.

A deep sadness washed over her. She missed her late husband and son. If they were still alive, I wouldn't have to deal with any of this. They would have protected us...

A weary sigh escaped her lips, and she sank weakly into a chair. A painful thought surfaced: Maybe it's time to sell the restaurant. Maybe I should just marry Bell into a good family and live out my old age in peace.

Bell, seeing the exhaustion in her grandmother's eyes, felt a stab of guilt. She silently reached out and held her hand.

Just then, Harry emerged from the kitchen. Seeing their distressed faces, his usual cheerfulness faded.

Things had been so simple before—just running the restaurant, serving customers, living an ordinary life. But now, even that peace felt like it was slipping away.

Ryan, observing the heavy atmosphere, felt a pang of guilt. He wasn't used to this kind of emotional weight, and he didn't know what to say.

After a long silence, Mrs. Prim finally spoke, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

"It's alright," she said, forcing her voice to be firm. "Let's get back to work. Bell, I've told you before—you need to stop wandering the streets so often. It's not safe with the Mad Dogs lurking around."

Though she was shaken, Mrs. Prim was not a woman who would break easily. She had fought through too much in life, raising Bell alone and fending off threats. This was just another challenge. But today had been a warning. If they didn't find a solution soon, things could escalate.

With heavy hearts, they returned to their tasks, each of them lost in thought. The restaurant opened for the evening, and they busied themselves serving customers, pushing aside their troubles—at least for now.

But trouble was brewing elsewhere.

---

Meanwhile, at the Mad Dogs' hideout…

Inside a dimly lit room, a fat man sat in a large chair, a leash in each hand. At the other end of the leashes, two snarling dogs growled, saliva dripping from their fangs. Behind them, a row of cages lined the wall, filled with feral, rabid-looking dogs that barked and howled, slamming against the bars.

Before the fat man stood the four thugs who had been beaten by Ryan and Bell.

The man sitting in the

chair was none other than the leader of the Mad Dogs Gang.

And he was not pleased.