When the night grew deep and the world fell silent, with no one around.
Arabella tore away her false smile, her teeth gritted in seething fury.
In the darkness, she revealed her fierce expression in the mirror, feeling that Marcellus had truly overstepped.
Then she began to berate herself, reflecting on her loss of control that afternoon.
Marcellus had become an explosive trigger; even with all her desires held firmly, he could still strike her weak spot effortlessly.
This was not good—really not good.
Arabella grew slightly irritated, thinking of how she could never seem to kill Marcellus.
But then she regained her confidence, convinced that one day she'd get her chance to kill Marcellus.
That night, as she curled up to sleep in a corner of the bathroom, she was still scheming.
If she couldn't kill Marcellus now, she would find a way to kill those around him.
The next morning, she dialed Taras's number.
On the other end of the line, there was a pause before he came to his senses. "Arabella?"
Arabella, on her end of the line, twirled a wire around her finger, leisurely beginning small talk.
Unfortunately, both were cold-hearted and indifferent, unable to exchange even a few polite words, and soon found themselves without anything left to say.
It was Taras, however, who, with a touch of nostalgia, remarked, "Master Unknown, after that day in bed, I kept thinking about it. It felt so satisfying. I've been pondering whether we could continue catching up."
The term "catching up" in Taras's mouth immediately took on a lewd and suggestive tone.
Arabella, intrigued by his words, teased, "Was it enjoyable, sharing a bed with me?"
Perhaps stirred by Arabella's blunt question, Taras's voice dropped, a low chuckle escaping him. "It was so enjoyable, the aftertaste lingers endlessly."
Talking to a copulation-type man was truly liberating; there was no need for decorum.
The two brutes spoke bluntly, which was far better than putting on a pretense and talking like humans.
Arabella paused, wrapping her fingers around the wire, and with a sharp glint in her eyes, went straight to the point.
"Then I'll catch up with you and propose a deal."
Hearing this on the other end of the line, Taras immediately understood that Arabella had a target in mind.
But with an ocean between them, he couldn't help but wonder.
What fool would provoke a hellion like Arabella?
"What kind of cooperation are we talking about?"
"I'll take down the Destiny for you. You secure the route for my shipments."
Take down the Destiny?
Taras had been holding a cigarette, and upon hearing such a shocking proposal, he dropped it, nearly burning his cock.
Standing up to brush off the cigarette, Taras incredulously repeated, "Did you say take down the Destiny?"
If anyone else had said this, it would've sounded like empty boasting.
But coming from Arabella, Taras felt a chill down his spine.
The entire Abyss group had expended enormous effort without shaking Destiny's position.
And yet, Arabella spoke of it so simply—what did she have up her sleeve?
"Yes." Arabella remained calm on the line. After a moment's pause, she added, "And I'll take out Abyss's current leader. You can take his place."
So it was a buy-one-get-one offer.
Taras laughed, genuinely curious about how the Destiny, across the ocean, had attracted a wolf like Arabella.
He immediately agreed, pledging full cooperation.
After scheming with Taras over the phone for a while, Arabella hung up, satisfied.
With the shipping route secured, Arabella prepared to receive the goods.
She made a quick call to AE, informing him in simple terms to prepare the stock.
When AE received Arabella's call, he was in the midst of revelry.
He had just moved a batch of goods recently and was feeling quite pleased with himself.
But Arabella's call sent a chill down his spine.
The batch of drugs he moved was of high purity, and thus high-priced. He operated freely in the south but couldn't break into the wider market.
Over time, he developed a sense of a hero without a stage to shine on.
He had always known that Arabella was capable, but the term "capable" was too abstract, not tied to any specific event or moment. As a result, her abilities had always remained vague and unclear to him.
This time, he expected some results from their cooperation, but not nearly to the extent that within a short time, Arabella would say shipments were ready.
Had she subdued the world already?
But then excitement took over, a smile spreading beneath his mask.
When the shipment went through, he'd get to see Arabella again. Ever since they'd parted, she'd been on his mind, and for the first time in his life, he felt such sex interest in a woman.
As time passed, anything related to Arabella sparked a wave of excitement, making his rod hard as iron.
AE glanced at the bulge in his pants, gesturing to his men to bring a woman to relieve him.
Taras worked quickly; after conspiring with Arabella, he sent a cargo ship as per their plan.
Abyss had previously traded in the City, and while the goods weren't exactly legitimate, they weren't contraband either.
With a precedent for trade, Abyss's second visit seemed natural.
The goods this time, like before, were for barter—resources that both sides were short on.
This time, Arabella handpicked a crew. Each was strong, fierce, with a look of menace—veterans, rebels, and outlaws, their faces alone betraying their ruthlessness.
When Abyss's cargo ship arrived, a group of people immediately slaughtered an equal number of those aboard, then disguised themselves according to the appearance and stature of the deceased.
Some became dockworkers, while others took up positions as deckhands.
This time, Raven and Bramwell once again accompanied Arabella.
Though neither knew Arabella's exact plan, the scale of the operation made it clear she was serious.
Abyss's every move was naturally under the Destiny's watchful eye.
Their grandiose trade relations stirred quite a bit of envy within the Destiny.
Unfortunately, not everyone dared to take the first step. In the past, the sea lay between them, and Arabella had the notorious reputation of being a feared terrorist.
Destiny dared not take the first step, allowing Abyss to seize the opportunity ahead of them.
Now that Quentin had learned of the personal enmity between Marcellus and Arabella, he found himself even more unable to do business with her.
After Abyss's ship returned, the Destiny kept their eyes peeled, wishing they could inspect every inch of the vessel.
"Are you sure the number and appearance of those returning match?" Quentin asked, his concern evident as he questioned his subordinates twice.
"Master, we are absolutely certain. Also, our men blended in on the shore. Upon close inspection, there isn't a single woman among them."
Quentin pondered for a moment, still unable to discern whether Abyss and Arabella had indeed conspired together.
From the last time Arabella snuck in, it was clear she was scheming on her own, with no connection to Abyss.
He had investigated Arabella.
She was an outlaw crossing borders, always operating solo, intolerant of anyone harboring even a hint of ambition toward her.
Could it be that Abyss had genuinely struck a deal with her and started legitimate trading?
Quentin clearly didn't truly understand Arabella.
Long before the ship docked, Arabella had already plunged into the sea.
She spent several nights familiarizing herself with Kewa's geography, identifying which cliffs connected to the coastline.
Alone, she swam through the vast waters to the shore, then climbed up the deserted mountains in the dead of night, slipping into Kewa's territory like a ghost.
