Chapter 392 A Restful Night

• Mark Roland's fair knuckles lightly brushed against the mask on his face, leaving behind a chilling sense of danger. Her words, "He's waiting for me," echoed in his mind, like a curse that ignited every nerve in his body.
• "Let go of me!" Wanda Kirk disregarded the pain in her wrist and fought to break free, but the man's grip only tightened, his fingers pressing on her wound. Despite the bandaged wound, his forceful grip had reopened it, causing fresh blood to seep through the gauze, leaving her arm numb with pain.
• Realizing that the stalemate was not in her favor, Wanda raised her eyes coldly and asked, "Is this your only approach to handling things?"