Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 362

"All of this... she made me do it. She tricked me into it—I lost my head. Otherwise, how could I have ever dared mess with your girl, Victor?"

Victor lifted his chin, his gaze dark and fathomless as he looked at Isadora. A slow, dangerous smile crept across his lips. "Mess with her, is it? You want to play?"

Isadora tilted her head, expression cool. "Play? What do you mean?"

Victor's smile widened, as if they were discussing nothing more serious than the weather. "However you want—whatever makes you happy."

Anyone listening felt a chill run down their spine.

Isadora let out a laugh, her clear eyes shining with a mischievous glint as she looked at the man in front of her.

"Let's play, then."

Victor gave a brief command. "Bring me a few knives."

Finley let out a resigned sigh.

Of all the people to provoke, why did they have to pick Isadora?

Now Victor's more ruthless side was about to break loose.

Finley returned with a white porcelain plate, arranging several sharp steak knives on it before setting it down in front of Victor.

Victor pulled Isadora gently in front of him, resting his chin on her shoulder. He picked up a knife, placed it in her hand, and wrapped his fingers around hers, guiding her aim in Preston's direction. His eyes narrowed, tone almost playful. "Let me show you how to throw."

As soon as he finished speaking, there was a sharp whizz through the air.

The knife spun like a dart, burying itself into the seat just between Preston's legs.

"Aaaargh!"

A scream tore through the room.

Preston went pale, his blood seeming to freeze. His legs shook uncontrollably, and a spreading wet stain appeared across his lap.

Everyone around watched in stunned horror.

Dear God.

Victor was playing this twisted game so casually—all just to amuse a woman.

Every anxious gaze in the room shot to Isadora.

Please, just say you're happy! Even if it wasn't them being stabbed, their nerves were stretched to the breaking point.

Isadora's lips slowly curved upward. "Mm-hmm."

Victor picked up a towel, meticulously wiping each of Isadora's fingers clean. Then he took her hand, utterly unconcerned with anyone watching, and prepared to lead her out.

The crowd parted without a word, making way for them.

Only after the two were gone did anyone snap out of their stupor. Suddenly the room erupted—shouting for an ambulance, scrambling to get Preston to the hospital.

Finley gave a wry smile. "It's nothing, really. Just take him to the ER—say it was, I don't know... an unfortunate accident."

Everyone: "..."

In the shadowy corner of the couch, Magnus had been silent, his brows drawn tight.

The moment he saw Victor leave with Isadora, he sprang up and hurried after them.