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Chapter_662
Three squad members efficiently unshackled Flynn’s chains, casting puzzled glances at the man before them.
“Cap, what’s the deal here?”
The man was none other than Thomas!
“Just got a last-minute directive to transfer the prisoner. Head back to HQ, folks.” Thomas hefted Flynn single-handedly and
stuffed him into the back of a Bentley, speeding away.
The special squad members exchanged confused looks, clueless about what had just happened. With no choice but to follow
their commanding officer’s orders, they returned to base.
At Vanguard Agency.
Gillian was idly nursing the remnants of a scar on her cheek, now mostly healed, revealing her basic features.
With no real power at Vanguard Agency and not exactly popular, she spent her time bored in front of a computer screen,
restricted from the outside world—even online shopping was off-limits.
Her colleagues, once courteous, now treated her with a cool distance, leaving her feeling out of place.
Thankfully, she was tracking Flynn’s transfer.
“Gillian, sign this,” Thomas said, dropping a logbook on her desk.
Signing papers was about the most challenging task for Gillian these days.
She shot Thomas a glare filled with disdain. “Oh, how kind of you, Captain Thomas, to deliver this personally.”
“Not at all, Gillian. You seem quite busy yawning over there,” Thomas replied with a casual smile.
The nearby agents couldn’t help but chuckle at Thomas’s comment.
Gillian’s face flushed with embarrassment as she scribbled her name on the logbook.
“Take it!”
At that moment, the three officers who had escorted Flynn approached. “Gillian, our captain…”
They stopped upon seeing Thomas. “Cap, what are you doing here?”
Thomas was surprised, too. “Where else would | be? But what about you guys? Shouldn’t you be training instead of hanging
around here?”
“We were following Gillian’s orders to escort Flynn, but didn’t you intercept us on the way?”
Thomas looked at his subordinates as if facing a threat. “What are you talking about? I’ve been in meetings all morning. | just got
a break, and | definitely didn’t take any Flynn from you!”
Gillian gasped. “Then who did you hand Flynn over to?!”
“Shouldn’t | be asking you that, Gillian?” Thomas slammed the logbook down on her desk.
“Do you have any idea what level of security Flynn requires? Three armored vehicles and special protection, plus my presence
on the transport. And you sent just three people?”
Gillian was aware of the protocol but had hoped to keep things low-key by moving Flynn discreetly. She hadn’t expected
someone to intercept them.
Could it have been her boss?
Trying to keep her composure, Gillian retorted, “| had headquarters’ approval. What right do you have to question me? Shouldn’t
you be more concerned with which ‘Thomas’ whisked Flynn away?”
Thomas snorted and stormed off. However, as he turned his back, his anger seemed to vanish without a trace.
Once he was gone, Gillian frantically dialed a mysterious number.
The call connected after a long wait. “Who said you could call me now?”
“Didn’t you take Flynn?”
There was a pause on the line before the person said, “Didn’t | instruct you to deliver him to the designated prison at
headquarters?”
“Yes, but someone impersonating Thomas took him halfway through. Was that you?”
“Impossible! | have no time for such antics, and besides, I’m in Sea City!”
Gillian’s anxiety peaked. “What do we do now? He’s gone, and we don’t know who took him…”
Before she could finish, the door was kicked open, and a furious voice bellowed, “Gillian! Who do you think you are? Secretly
transferring a high-profile prisoner—is that badge just for show?”
Vance stormed into the office, his rage directed squarely at Gillian.
The person on the phone hung up abruptly.
Terrified, Gillian ducked behind her chair. “I had… | had approval from headquarters, I…”
“Headquarters, always headquarters,” Vance spat, ripping the badge from Gillian’s neck.
“Get out and go back to headquarters now!” He bellowed, “If | see you here in half an hour, you’ll replace Flynn in prison!”
Gillian, overpowered by Vance’s strength, was flung out of the office and landed on the ground in a heap.
In a car driving down the Rivenwood suburb.
Flynn lay in the backseat, writhing in agony from the poison Vivienne had administered.
After a struggle, he managed to open his eyes and looked at the driver.
“Long time no see, my dear nephew.”
The man behind the wheel, masquerading as Thomas, was actually Percival.
Percival peeled off the fake mask and tossed it back, hitting Flynn on the head.
Flynn, too weak to remove the mask, managed, “Uncle, you’ve become quite the hothead since we last met. | thought we might
catch up.”
Percival ignored him and kept driving down increasingly secluded roads.
Finally regaining his strength, Flynn sat up in the back, the chains on his limps making clinking sounds.
“Where are you taking me that’s worth all the fuss?” Flynn asked. He attempted to open the window to get some fresh air, but it
was locked.
Percival remained silent as he
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Percival pressed Flynn’s head firmly until it was just inches from the camera lens.
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Percival gripped Flynn’s shoulder and ushered him into the room, trapping him behind the first iron door, then turned on his heel
to leave.
“Hey, Percival, how’s your grandpa doing? Is he still kicking? Does he ever ask about his favorite grandson?”
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“You have no right to speak of Grandpa! Keep your damn mouth shut!”
Seeing Percival’s fury only seemed to amuse Flynn more, his laughter lingering in the air.
“Come on, Percival. After all, he is my father. Can’t | even ask about him?”
Flynn snickered, his eyes gleaming with mockery, void of any genuine son’s longing. He was the epitome of insincerity.
