“Yeah. That country girl,” Zachary sneered. “A nobody trying to pass herself off as high society. Turns out you’ve been backing her.”
His smile sharpened. “That Nexo-7 compound Loyce gave to the Shapiro heir? She made it using a formula you stole from the Walsh family, didn’t she?”
He lifted his chin like he was granting mercy. “Dr. Walsh is giving you a chance. Hand the formula back to us, and we’ll let it go.”
“That’s not happening!”
A woman’s voice—cold enough to stop the air—came from behind them.
Loyce removed her helmet, eyes flashing. She grabbed the nearest man by the back of his collar and yanked him hard. He stumbled, and before he could recover, Loyce drove her knee into his stomach. He folded and hit the ground, wheezing.
Two others rushed her with sticks. Loyce twisted aside, caught one man’s wrist, and wrenched. There was a sharp crack. He screamed and dropped the stick.
Before the second could even register what he’d seen, Loyce spun and snapped a kick into the back of his knee. He slammed down onto the pavement, forced into a humiliating kneel.
Loyce pinned a fallen stick under her boot and swept her gaze over the rest of them.
“Touch Blossom Drugstore again,” she said evenly, “and I’ll make sure you never hold anything steady for the rest of your life.”
Zachary hadn’t expected a “fragile college girl” to fight like that. Fear flickered across his face.
“I’m warning you, Loyce,” he said, trying to sound tough while backing up inside. “The Walsh family can have everyone at Blossom Drugstore thrown in prison for theft.”

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