Outcast Queen: Her Return from Hell novel Chapter 491

A few days later, an uncharted island sat isolated in international waters.

The crashing waves pounded against pitch-black reefs, and the entire island had been transformed into a heavily fortified steel fortress.

The cold glare of searchlights formed an inescapable web, while heavily armed mercenaries patrolled the shoreline with fierce guard dogs, ready to turn any unauthorized intruder into a sieve.

To obtain a pass onto the island, Quentin and Isabella had bled a fortune, throwing in a full billion dollars.

This exorbitant admission fee only bought them a single opportunity to meet the leader face-to-face.

But Quentin gritted his teeth and accepted it—if it meant meeting that man, what was a billion dollars?

Deep inside the fortress, they stood before a massive metal door.

"Keep your mouths shut once we go inside. Our boss absolutely hates people who talk too much," the armed guard leading the way warned with a cold glare.

"Understood, we know the rules." Quentin forced an ingratiating smile, smoothly slipping a heavy gold bar into the guard's palm. "Just a little something for you, buddy. Buy yourself some drinks."

The guard weighed the gold in his hand, a mocking smirk tugging at the corner of his rigid mouth. "You know how to play the game. For the sake of the gold, I'll give you a piece of advice: our boss has zero interest in women."

He cast a meaningful glance over Isabella's deliberately alluring outfit and scoffed. "Put away your cheap honey traps. If you make him sick, you won't even leave here in one piece."

The Quincy siblings paled slightly, exchanging a shocked glance.

Their original plan had indeed been to have Isabella offer herself to him. As long as she could climb into Callum Cross's bed and whisper sweet nothings in his ear, securing a partnership would have been guaranteed.

But now, that shortcut was completely blocked.

"We'll play it by ear," Quentin muttered, cold sweat beading on his forehead. "Let's first figure out what his stance is on Yara St. Claire."

Isabella nodded stiffly. Taking a deep breath, she followed her brother through the slowly opening metal doors.

The main lights in the room were off, leaving only a few dim sconces casting an eerie glow.

A strange, cold fragrance filled the air, like sandalwood mixed with something icy and sharp. It felt strangely familiar to Quentin, yet he couldn't quite place it.

He looked up with trepidation. In the oversized leather executive chair sat a towering, shadowy figure.

The man resembled a dormant beast lurking in the dark, staring them down with an intensely oppressive, predatory gaze.

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