The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1864

Wolf didn't even have time to react as Ingrid pulled him straight to the barber shop. Running his fingers through his mullet, he silently acknowledged that it had gotten quite long.

Upon reaching the barber shop, the barber seemed to recognize Ingrid right away. "You're here, Ms. Chamberlain. The usual hair treatment?"

Ingrid waved a dismissive hand. "It's not me today. This boy needs a haircut."

At her words, the barber turned to Wolf. "Nice mullet you've got there. But first, let's wash your hair."

As the conversation unfolded in Cantonian, Ingrid relayed the message in Cascadian for Wolf. "Sit on that couch, Wolf. They'll wash your hair before the cut."

Wolf gave a soft nod and plopped down on the couch. The barber turned on the hot water, washing his hair thoroughly before trimming away the overgrown strands.

Once the cut was finished, Ingrid flashed Wolf a smile. "You're more handsome with your new haircut."

Wolf chuckled softly at the compliment. After Ingrid settled the bill, they left the barber shop and headed to the residential building where she lived. Upon reaching the second floor, Ingrid took out her key from her purse and unlocked the door.

But as she was about to step inside, Wolf stopped her.

"What's wrong, Wolf?" Ingrid questioned in puzzlement.

Wolf furrowed his brows. "Something smells tasty in there, but I can't eat it."

Confused, Ingrid thought he might be hungry again. "Are you hungry? I'll take you out to eat later."

With that, she stepped into the house. Instead of stopping her, Wolf fixed his gaze on the air. Right there, hovering in plain sight, was a child's spirit. For a moment, the two just stared at each other.

The child's face twisted into a snarl, trying to frighten Wolf. Yet, the latter didn't even flinch. The ghostly child had assumed that Wolf could see him, but it seemed that wasn't the case.

Noticing Wolf remaining at the door, Ingrid called to him from inside. "Come on in, Wolf."

As Wolf entered the house, his gaze remained locked on the ghostly child. He could sense the spirit's intent to harm Ingrid, and he was determined to protect her.

When the ghostly child, Quentin Frasier, realized that Wolf wasn't frightened, he instantly jumped onto Ingrid's back.

Ingrid, already exhausted, almost tripped from the unexpected weight. She barely managed to collapse onto the nearby couch before she started gasping for breath as Quentin wrapped his arms around her neck.

"Let Ms. Ingrid go or perish," Wolf growled, glaring at Quentin.

Ingrid, still catching her breath, was clearly confused by Wolf's sudden warning. She had no idea who he was addressing. "W-Who are you talking to, Wolf?"

Before Wolf replied, she continued, "I'm not feeling well, so I'm going to rest for a bit. Wake me up later."

With that, Ingrid closed her eyes to rest.

Releasing his hold on her, Quentin looked at Wolf and questioned, "Why can you see me?"

"Because you smell delicious, and I'm sensitive to that," Wolf answered, fixing his gaze on him.

Quentin was utterly confused. "I'm tasty? What do you mean? Do you think you can eat me?"

At those words, Wolf suddenly released a wave of energy. "If it weren't for Boss' advice, you'd already be in my belly the moment I stepped inside."

Though Wolf's words were slow, Quentin felt a sense of dread creeping over him. "W-Who are you? Why do I feel so terrified?" he stammered, his voice filled with fear.

Wolf wordlessly stomped his foot, letting his action speak for itself.

The moment his foot landed, Quentin was instantly pinned to the floor without any chance of resisting. At that moment, various objects in the house began to float and hurl themselves at Wolf.

Wolf furrowed his brows, but he didn't even bother to look. He simply waved a dismissive hand, halting the objects mid-air.

"Let go of my son!" A woman's shrill voice pierced through his ears.

Wolf merely lifted his gaze and picked his ears. "How noisy."

He raised his foot and stomped harder, nearly crushing Quentin's very soul. It was clear that Wolf hadn't unleashed his full strength, or else Quentin would have been completely obliterated. It appeared the stories weren't lying when they warned one to run when Chaos started stomping.

Seeing Quentin was on the brink of destruction, the female spirit desperately pleaded, "Please let go of my son, sir. I'm begging you."

Quentin, gasping for air, managed to croak, "Run, Mom! He's too powerful. We're no match for him."

But the female spirit, Jemima Altman, remained still. She knew very well that Wolf could end her existence in an instant.

"Please have mercy on us, sir. We never did any harm. It's just that Quentin hadn't had anyone to play with in so long, so he turned to that woman for companionship."

Wolf tilted his head slightly. Though his appearance might be adorable, his eyes were cold and indifferent. He silently scratched his nose, as if considering Jemima's explanation.

Jemima dared not speak further as she waited for a response. After five long minutes, Wolf finally raised his foot. Just as she thought he might spare Quentin, he abruptly yanked her over with an unseen force, pinning her beneath his foot as well.

With both spirits helplessly under his heel, Wolf settled on the couch with a yawn. "I hate people who lie to me. Your eyes were spinning when you gave that excuse."

As Wynter had pointed out, it was a trait of liars. Jemima had assumed Wolf would be gullible, but she hadn't expected that he possessed a way of discerning lies from truth.

With an indifferent expression, Wolf glared down at Jemima and coldly threatened, "Last chance. If you insist on lying, it's the end for you."

Jemima's face drained of color as she lay pinned under Wolf's foot. Enduring the pain, she relented. "I-I'll tell you the truth! Please go easy on us. I can barely hold on any longer!"

Only then did Wolf lighten the pressure on his foot, allowing Jemima to gasp for breath.

Wolf tilted his head and replied, "I noticed you weren't feeling well in your sleep, so I gave you a massage."

Ingrid smiled at his kind words. "No wonder my shoulders feel so much better. I'm really lucky to have met you. Wait here—I'll make you something nice to eat."

Wolf widened his eyes at the mention of food. "Drumstick! Meat! All for Boss!"

Ingrid couldn't help but laugh at his excitement. "So, you have a boss?"

Wolf nodded with a serious face. "Yes. I'm waiting for Boss to come and fetch me."

Ever since Wynter took him in, she had promised to come for him no matter where he was.

His memories had always been a bit hazy. He recalled people scorning his birth, claiming his awakening would bring misfortune. But Wynter assured him that he was a good child—one who knew how to earn money and fight evil. So, he always waited for her to come, and they would cause an uproar together.

Among the millions of people in the world, Wynter was the only person he truly listened to. After all, she had promised to take him home.

But that promise wasn't just for Wolf. It was a promise to every member of the Special Unit, and to all those who risked their lives protecting the borders.

…

Anyone who sank into the dark depths of the water would likely feel what Wynter had—her senses slipping away, leaving only the spirits' haunting whispers.

That said, it wasn't the first time Wynter had faced such an ordeal. Back then, she had descended to the 18th level of hell.

She wandered on the dark waters until she collapsed from exhaustion. All that filled her was an overwhelming sense of regret, much like the loneliness and emptiness she felt now.

Seeing that, the malevolent spirits lurking beneath the boat exchanged knowing glances. The moment they had waited for had finally arrived. Wynter would never rise again!

They stirred restlessly, watching Wynter engulfed in black mists. They carefully avoided the red thread, laced with merits, and attempted to sink their teeth into her wrist.

But all of a sudden, Wynter, previously lost in resentments, opened her eyes. "Who cares if it's some secret mission? So what if no one knows about it? I'm not fucking trying to make you remember me—all I want is for you to die!"

Wynter clenched her fists. Her voice started weak, then slowly grew stronger, almost as if she were laughing. The chill in her tone was unmistakable, yet oddly pleasant to the ear.

The malevolent spirits widened their eyes in shock, hardly believing what they witnessed. One malevolent spirit, who attempted to bite into Wynter's wrist, was caught and crushed in an instant.

"Dalton hasn't come back, and the others are still waiting for our safe return. I don't care about being the hero, but a home isn't a home without its roots. What can you do if I want world peace and unity?"

Only now did the malevolent spirits truly sense danger. Wynter was practically disregarding her own life as she grasped the red thread in her fists. The blood from her wounds was imbued with immense merits.

However, the malevolent spirits couldn't claim such merits for themselves. Instead, they felt a searing pain piercing their souls upon nearing it, as though they were being torn apart.