Chapter 93 — Theresa's Bitch Face and Jasmine's Misunderstanding
Inside the taxi, William stared out at the roadside scenery, but his mind was elsewhere—running simulations of how he was going to catch Jasmine later.
Across from him, Theresa kept stealing glances at his profile, looking oddly absorbed.
After a moment of silence, she suddenly asked:
"William… are you serious about Amanda?"
William turned to her, confused.
"Why are you asking that?"
Theresa didn't answer directly. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at him—her expression sharp and smug, the kind of professional bitch-face you'd see on someone like Emma Roberts.
"And that bitch from the South Side yesterday… you slept with her too, didn't you?"
William didn't bother denying it.
"Yeah. I did."
The moment he admitted it, Theresa looked like she'd thrown a punch at thin air.
Her cheeks puffed up in irritation as she glared at him, visibly annoyed.
The little interruption passed, and Theresa finally stopped pushing the topic.
---
Soon, the two of them arrived in the South Side—at the chop shop.
William took a key from Steve.
Steve glanced at Theresa, then raised an eyebrow.
"Your new girlfriend? What about that one from the club before—did you break up? What was her name again?"
The way Steve looked at Theresa wasn't sleazy… it was more like his eyes lit up—as if seeing Theresa meant he might still have a chance with Fiona.
"You mean Fiona?" William asked.
"So her name's Fiona, huh?" Steve repeated it, as if savoring the syllables.
"Yeah." William nodded. "But I didn't break up with her."
He wasn't lying.
They'd never officially confirmed the relationship in the first place.
So how could it even count as a breakup?
Steve froze, then slowly turned his gaze to Theresa.
Theresa's face did show a trace of jealousy…
…but she didn't explode.
So she knew about Fiona?
Steve's head filled with question marks.
---
"Alright." William cut him off. "I've got things to do. No time to chat."
Under Steve's completely baffled stare, William casually wrapped an arm around Theresa's slim waist and walked toward a blue Toyota Corolla he'd just gotten.
"What the hell…?" Steve muttered.
He genuinely didn't understand how William could admit—right in front of a woman—that he was involved with another woman…
and still walk away unharmed.
---
Compared to the cars William usually drove, the Corolla felt rough and cheap.
But it ran.
That was enough.
It was a disposable tool anyway. It cost less than two hundred bucks—William didn't have expectations.
And after Jasmine was dealt with, they could just bring it back, scrap it, and recover maybe fifty dollars.
---
Sitting in the passenger seat, Theresa stared at the registration info.
Vehicle Owner: Frankfort Remington.
She frowned.
"Why are you buying stolen junk like this?"
"Ask fewer questions," William replied coolly. "It's better for you."
Then he reached into the side and handed her something.
"Here. Take this."
Theresa blinked. "What is it?"
William placed a Beretta M9 into her hands.
Theresa jolted like she'd been bitten.
"Holy shit—why are you giving me a gun?!"
Even though this was the same woman who'd once thrown grenades and blown up a whole group of South Side gang members…
she was still instinctively wary of firearms.
William didn't explain.
"Just hold onto it."
Theresa didn't dare resist William. After all, he still had leverage over her in his hands.
Besides… after spending more time around him lately, she'd realized William was actually pretty interesting.
Just… a little too much of a womanizer.
---
Soon, guided by the mental mark, William closed in on Jasmine's location.
From the sensation, she was somewhere ahead of him—
and moving fast.
Which meant only one thing:
she was driving.
William spoke while slipping a mask over his face.
"Theresa. In a second, I'm going to ram the car in front of us."
Then he added casually, as if this were just another routine.
"After that, you're going to trick that woman into saying we should go settle this in the empty lot up ahead."
"Wait—what?" Theresa blinked, slow to react.
But William didn't wait for her brain to catch up.
He floored the gas—
BANG!
The Corolla surged forward, the hood slamming directly into the rear of Jasmine's car.
---
"FUCK! What the hell—?!" Jasmine was jolted hard by the impact.
Heart pounding, she twisted around to look behind her.
A car had rear-ended her.
"Holy shit… what a goddamn day."
Cursing under her breath, she had no choice but to get out and check the damage.
---
"Oh my god… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit your car like that."
Theresa stepped out too and walked straight over to Jasmine.
At first, Jasmine was irritated—
but the moment she saw Theresa's bitchy, glamorous vibe, her anger softened into something else entirely.
"It's fine," Jasmine said, glancing over the damage. "Doesn't look too serious."
Then her eyes drifted up… and down… over Theresa.
In winter coats, it was hard to see much.
But Jasmine had spent enough time in the adult world to know one thing on instinct:
Theresa's figure definitely wasn't bad.
---
Theresa sighed dramatically and pressed a hand to her chest.
"It's my fault. I distracted my boyfriend while he was driving, and he lost focus. I'm really, really sorry."
Her expression was full of worry as she stared at Jasmine's trunk—
but Jasmine wasn't looking at the trunk anymore.
She was looking at Theresa.
As for Theresa's "boyfriend" in the other car?
Jasmine glanced once and immediately lost interest.
With that mask on, what was there to see?
---
Theresa continued, her voice gentle and apologetic.
"I honestly didn't expect it to turn out like this…"
Then she lifted her gaze, as if suddenly thinking of something.
"How about this—we pull into the empty lot ahead and deal with it there? If we stop in the road, we'll block traffic."
Jasmine had already been looking for an excuse to get closer.
There was no way she'd refuse.
She nodded immediately.
"Sure."
---
When Jasmine climbed back into her car, Theresa couldn't help showing a strange expression.
"…Why does this woman look at me like that?"
Still, her part in the plan was done.
She climbed back into the Corolla as well.
---
Inside the car, William followed after Jasmine the moment Theresa shut the door.
Not long after, both cars pulled into the empty lot and stopped.
William loosened his grip on the steering wheel and spoke calmly.
"Once you get out, go up close. Pull your gun, control her, and bring her to our car."
Theresa's eyes widened.
"…So we're kidnapping her?"
William's voice was flat—almost casual.
"No. Something far worse than kidnapping."
Then he added, deliberately vague:
"You really don't want to know."
He wasn't even exaggerating.
Taking away a person's sight and hearing…
was far more terrifying than simply abducting them.
Even hardened soldiers—men trained to endure extreme stress—could go insane after a week locked alone in total darkness.
And Jasmine?
She was just an ordinary woman.
Theresa didn't argue.
She couldn't.
So she got out obediently and walked toward Jasmine.
Jasmine leaned against her car, lips curved in amusement as she looked Theresa over.
Her eyes were practically burning with desire.
"So… insurance?"
Or maybe—
she smiled wider.
"You and your boyfriend could just buy me a drink. We call it even."
Theresa cleared her throat.
"...I don't think either option is going to work."
Then she stepped closer—
raised her hand—
and jammed the gun straight into Jasmine's body.
Jasmine had thought she'd stumbled into a lucky little flirtation.
But when she saw the black muzzle aimed at her—
her face turned white.
"H-holy shit…?! What do you want?!"
"Shut up," Theresa snapped, forcing her tone to be vicious.
"Don't say a word. Come with me."
Truthfully, Theresa's face didn't really match that "ruthless" expression.
But the Beretta M9 didn't need acting skills.
That cold metal spoke for itself.
Only problem was…
the gun was heavy.
Theresa's wrist felt strained holding it steady.
Jasmine raised both hands instantly.
"Wait—listen! I don't want compensation anymore! I swear I won't call the police—can you just let me go?!"