The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1860

The bus looked normal at first glance, except for the area around the heavily worn license plate.

This was Bus No. 666. The number alone sent an uneasy chill down one's spine.

But strangely, none of the people in line seemed to react.

The office worker, Argus Myler, must have just graduated recently. After all, his clothes and style were youthful.

Fresh out of college, he clearly wasn't used to working overtime yet. His head was bowed as he texted a friend to vent. Obviously, he hadn't noticed the license plate either and was about to step onto the bus.

Just then, a voice spoke beside him. "Wait for the next one."

It was Dalton. He really didn't seem like someone who'd take the bus. Although his clothes and shoes weren't branded, they were clearly custom-made.

Argus blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

Dalton didn't explain further, stepping onto the bus in silence.

Argus, oddly unfazed, muttered, "Who does this guy think he is to cut the line?"

Then, he followed Dalton aboard, scanning his phone for payment, before telling Dalton, "This is the last bus. There won't be another."

Dalton's face remained as aloof and unreadable as ever, his gaze drifting to the window, as if barely acknowledging Argus.

Argus, chatty as ever, remarked, "I didn't expect so many people to ride the bus this late."

He gestured toward an empty seat. "Hey, man, there's a spot here."

Dalton stood motionless, his posture effortlessly elegant. "No need. It's not clean."

"What's not clean about it?" Argus frowned in confusion. "It looks fine to me."

As they spoke, the bus doors closed. The last passenger, a child, had boarded. The kid moved awkwardly—his pants were too long and dripping with water.

Argus glanced at him and said to Dalton, "What kind of parents let their kid ride the bus alone this late?"

Dalton didn't respond as he continued to stay lost in thought. His presence here was jarring and out of place. After all, aside from Argus, every other passenger had an unnatural pallor, their lips tinged faintly purple.

Their postures, whether sitting or standing, were stiff and eerily uniform. Earlier, they had all been staring blankly out the fogged-up windows, their expressions wooden and their unanimity unsettling.

Now, hearing Argus speak, they slowly turned their heads toward him.

An elderly woman spoke first, her voice creaking. "Young man, why did the two of you board this bus?"

Argus, ever cheerful, replied, "Ah, I had to work overtime. The subway is closed, so I had to take the bus."

He jerked his chin toward Dalton. "I have no clue about him, but he seems like some big shot."

Truly, youth made one careless. Argus kept scrolling through reels on his phone, completely missing the fact that the other half of the woman's face was horrifically burned.

"So, you got on by accident," the woman said, her tone suddenly delighted. "That's perfect. I can finally get off now."

Argus didn't understand. "What do you mean, 'finally?' You can get off anytime. Just listen for your stop."

The woman tilted her head. The other passengers did the same, moving in eerie unison. "We can't get off unless someone new gets on."

Argus blinked. "Huh?"

Only then did he think to check the route display. Instantly, he realized that this wasn't the way home.

"Wait, where am I?" He stared out the window. The streets were unrecognizable, swallowed by thick fog. At this time of year, there shouldn't be smog this heavy.

He stood, calling out to the bus driver, "Sir, please drop me at the next stop. I took the wrong bus."

Too distracted by his phone, Argus failed to notice that the bus driver had only one hand, his face streaked with blood, and the windshield in front of him was shattered.

The driver's complexion was a sickly place as he spoke flatly. "We're not at a stop yet. No disembarking."

"What? But there's a bus station right ahead!" Argus pointed.

There was indeed a bus stop, but its sign bore only four words—Path of the Dead.

"Path of the Dead?" Argus scowled. "Since when was there a road called that?"

He couldn't understand why he had never heard or seen this path before.

"Whatever." He adjusted his backpack. "Stop here. I'm getting off."

Just then, the old woman behind him spoke. Her voice was so close it seemed to whisper directly into his ear. "Didn't you hear? No one gets off unless someone new gets on. The bus won't stop until it reaches its destination."

The moment she finished speaking, Argus felt a bone-deep chill crawl up his spine. Was the bus' air conditioner cranked too high? But why would it even be on this time of year?

Finally, he tore his eyes away from his phone and nearly dropped it in horror. Something about this bus wasn't right.

His hands trembled. He knew a normal bus wouldn't look like this. He read novels and knew some horror stories, but he never thought he'd end up in one.

The burn-scarred woman, the deathly pale granny, and even the soaking-wet kid were all staring at him with the same hollow gaze. Everyone here, except Dalton beside him, wasn't normal.

It could be uncomfortable getting stared at by a person. But when the whole bus, including the driver, stared at him, it was paralyzing. Even if they looked normal, one's skin would still crawl. And the thing was, none of them looked normal.

Argus finally realized that he'd boarded a spirit vehicle.

He stumbled back a step, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "Dude, what do we do now? We've walked right into it. My grandma had warned me that today was a bad day to work late. How could I forget? Bro, we have to get off this bus. We're done for if we don't."

He thought the others couldn't hear him, but these were unborn souls who were desperate for a living soul to take their place. How could they not hear him?

The moment the words left his mouth, the woman by the window slowly rose from her seat. She lifted her hands, clearly intending to strangle Argus.

Only then did Argus notice that everyone in the bus had long, blackened nails.

He was so terrified that he couldn't even keep his phone within his grip. He staggered back, nearly falling as he frantically dialed his phone to call for help, but there was no signal. He was panicking so hard that tears started filling his eyes.

The woman was not the only one who had stood up. Even the old granny had reached out her hands—but not for Argus. Her target was Dalton.

With one hand still casually tucked in his tailored slacks, his striking features as composed and unreadable as ever, Dalton merely lifted his gaze without moving a single limb.

The old granny froze instantly as an indescribable scorching sensation erupted at her fingertips. Before she could even touch Dalton, her hand vanished.

"You—" The old granny shrieked, her voice raw with fury as she lunged forward. "You deserve to die!"

Dalton merely tilted his head slightly and narrowed his pitch-black eyes.

In an instant, a deafening crash tore through the bus, and the entire vehicle shuddered violently. Not only had the left tire been punctured, but the windows also shattered into dust, and the doors flew open uncontrollably.

Every restless spirit onboard, except for Argus, the living soul who had stumbled onto this cursed ride, went completely rigid.

The elderly man, wearing a mask, looked bewildered. "What's the matter?"

Sheldon pulled down the mask only to find a completely different face. His heart dropped. "Why are you dressed like this?"

The old man shrugged. "Someone paid me 500 bucks to wear this suit and mask. They told me to walk off the ship as soon as it docked. It was easy money, so I didn't ask questions."

Sheldon clenched his fists.

Just then, the van they'd been monitoring started rolling down the plank. The members outside were ready. The moment the van hit the road, Havenia's Special Unit tailed it.

A bad feeling settled in Sheldon's gut at that moment. He marched toward the ferry's cabins, flashing his badge at the crewman guarding the door, who quickly stepped aside.

"Come with me," Sheldon ordered, heading straight for the last cabin. But when he arrived, he found that it was empty.

He turned to the crewman. "Where's the person who was in here?"

The crewman shook his head. "No idea. Everyone left after docking."

Sheldon said nothing as he stormed back outside.

His team was still watching for the old man. When they saw Sheldon approaching, they quickly informed him, "Mr. Bridger, he never came out."

The ship was now empty except for the crew.

Jaw tight, Sheldon led his team ashore, heading toward the van's last known location.

...

Meanwhile, the tailing unit had followed the van to a residential building. Per Sheldon's orders, they waited for everyone to arrive before taking action. After all, Wolf was still inside, and his safety came first.

Soon, using the location they were sent, Sheldon's team converged with them.

Sheldon quickly asked, "Did they take the people inside?"

"Yes. Two men carried the children in just now."

Sheldon eyed the villa. "There's no time to waste. Let's go."

The team quickly fanned out. Two members pretended their path was blocked by the van and strode toward the door, knocking loudly. Flanking both sides of the entrance, the rest of the team poised to strike the moment the door opened.

The knocking immediately drew attention inside, and Meade frowned. "Who the hell is knocking?"

Jovanni shook his head. "Do you think they're onto us?"

Meade scoffed. "If they were, we'd have been busted back in Colifernia. There's no way we'd be able to arrive in Havenia."

So, Jovanni scratched his head. "I'll go check it out."

Meade nodded but warned, "Stay sharp. Don't open the door yet, and check the situation first."

"Got it." Jovanni moved to the door and called through it, "What do you want?"

Hearing this, one of the Special Unit members barked back angrily, "Is this your damn van? Move it now! We can't pass through!"

Jovanni peered through the peephole. He noted two ordinary-looking men standing there. A quick glance confirmed that their van was indeed blocking the road.

His guard dropped slightly. "Fine. Hang on."