Pampered by my three brothers: the return of the neglected heiress novel Chapter 1281

Chapter 1281: Penny’s dead

Did Slater fight the men? Of course, he did. Even though he didn’t know who had sent them, he fought fiercely. After all, in his quest to fulfill this mission for his sister’s freedom, he had hurt a lot of people.

People he had never known, and people he was sure were good.

So it should have been no surprise that he was being hunted down. But even though Slater managed to hold them off for a while, he wasn’t invincible. He was trained but still lacked experience. Against countless armed men, he eventually succumbed.

They didn’t open fire on him, though. All he remembered was being tased—repeatedly. The pain was unbearable, almost killing him in the most excruciating way imaginable. But he didn’t die.

If he had, he wouldn’t have woken up to a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head.

"Ugh!" Slater grunted in pain as he regained consciousness. His brows furrowed as he weakly opened his eyes. But before he could take in his surroundings, he immediately felt the restraints around his body.

Panic immediately set in.

Jerking his arms and flinging his shoulders, he struggled against the bindings, but they didn’t budge. His eyes snapped open fully, still writhing in an attempt to break free. His breath hitched as he looked around, but all he saw was darkness.

"Mhm!!" He tried to shout, but his mouth was gagged. The only sound was the metallic clanging of the chair as he thrashed against it. "Mhm!!"

For the next full minute, Slater fought against his restraints. But no matter how hard he struggled, the ropes only seemed to tighten. Then, suddenly—light flooded the room.

His eyes, adjusted to the darkness, burned from the sudden brightness. It was blinding, forcing him to squeeze them shut.

"Tch..." he hissed, keeping his lids shut tight. Footsteps echoed around him. He tried forcing his eyes open, but it was still too bright. When the footsteps stopped, he took a deep breath and slowly, carefully, opened his eyes.

A pair of legs stood just a few steps away. Slater’s brows furrowed as his vision adjusted. As soon as he took in his surroundings, his breath caught.

He was in a morgue.

His gaze flickered to the stainless steel autopsy table nearby, where a corpse lay covered with a white sheet. But he didn’t linger on the body. Instead, his focus shifted to the men in suits standing at every corner of the room. His brows furrowed further as he turned his attention to the figure before him.

The second he locked eyes with the man, his heart nearly stopped.

"Zoren Pierson," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Zoren was perched casually on an empty autopsy table, his dark eyes void of emotion. He raised his brows briefly, studying Slater. However, Slater couldn’t seem to read what Zoren was thinking at the moment.

"I was worried about you," Zoren said, his voice low and lifeless. "My men did everything to find you, but... who would’ve thought you were right under our noses all along?"

Slater swallowed hard, pulling against his restraints to no avail. "Why were you looking for me?"

Zoren shrugged. "Just because...?" His lips curled into a faint smirk. "It seems you’ve learned how to hold a gun. I wonder how that happened?"

Slater remained silent, his eyes burning with hostility.