Madly Yours (Nora Reed) novel Chapter 265

The leather shoes gleamed flawlessly beneath razor-sharp trouser creases. The man's long legs carried him forward with a terrifyingly slow, careless grace.

Juliette strained her neck upward against the harsh light, a tall, imposing silhouette finally coming into focus.

He wore a dark grey silk shirt, the sleeves rolled cleanly to his forearms, revealing pale, powerful wrists. His features looked as though they had been chiseled from marble by a master sculptor—sharp, deep, and impossibly cruel. His pitch-black eyes radiated an absolute, freezing apathy.

Juliette's pupils shrank to pinpricks. A sheet of ice-cold sweat broke out across her spine.

She had never seen Hudson Lancaster in person, but she had obsessively stalked his photos online and heard his name pass Edmond Sterling's lips a thousand times.

San Francisco's untouchable king.

Hudson Lancaster.

"What... what do you want?" she stammered, her entire body violently trembling.

Hudson didn't even grant her a glance. He looked down at Dorian, pinned beneath a boot, and casually tipped his chin.

Understanding the order, Arthur bent down, ripping Dorian's phone from his pocket. He then snatched Juliette's designer bag off the bed, dug out her phone, and pocketed both.

Hudson dragged the only chair into the center of the room and sat down, crossing his long legs with absolute, terrifying ease.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placed it between his lips, and tilted his head to light it.

The flame briefly illuminated his face, making the dark abyss of his eyes look even more hollow.

The room fell into a dead silence, broken only by Juliette's ragged, terrified gasps and Dorian's muffled groans against the floor.

Juliette lay paralyzed, her face plastered to the icy floorboards, her mind short-circuiting in pure panic.

In San Francisco, crushing her would be easier for Hudson than stepping on an ant.

"Dorian Chase."

Hudson pulled the cigarette from his mouth, trapping it loosely between his fingers as he casually tapped off the ash. "A year ago, in Northampton. You were the one who drove the car that hit Nora?"

Dorian's body went noticeably rigid, a fresh wave of cold sweat beading on his forehead.

"Who the hell are you people? You..."

All she saw was an endless, pitch-black sky. She was bound incredibly tight, the thick, abrasive rope wrapping relentlessly from her wrists all the way down to her ankles, anchored tightly around her waist in a series of dead knots.

"Don't move."

A low, rumbling voice drifted from above.

Juliette forced her head up against the moonlight. A tall figure stood leaning against the hood of a luxury car a few yards away.

He was holding a cigarette, the cherry burning bright red against the pitch-black night, the ocean gale pressing his shirt tightly against his broad frame.

"Mr... Mr. Lancaster..." Her voice shook violently. "What... what are you going to do?"

Hudson didn't reply. His gaze bypassed her entirely, landing on the other bound figure lying a few feet away.

Dorian had just woken up as well. He was soaked to the bone, his face bruised and bloody, his cheekbone grotesquely swollen.

He struggled wildly to sit up, but the coarse rope only dug deeper into his flesh, leaving bloody friction burns that made him bare his teeth in agony.

"I'm here today," Hudson finally spoke, his voice carrying effortlessly over the crashing waves, "to collect a debt for my wife."