The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 1515

Night had fallen, casting Rivonia in a hazy, silvery light. The usually rowdy streets were strangely silent, tension hanging in the air. It seemed as if everyone knew something big was about to go down, and they were smart enough to get out of the way.

Jimmie swaggered out front, belly straining against his shirt, a chunky gold chain bouncing on his chest. He jabbed a finger at one of his guys and barked, “What’s with this crappy road? Get someone to fix it now. If Beauty messes up her shoes, it’s your head.”

“Right away, Jimmie,” the guy stammered, wobbling from the shove. He tried sneaking a look at Beauty but almost jumped out of his skin. The vibe she gave off was enough to make anyone shiver.

How the hell did Charlotte manage to be scarier than Anthony? No wonder Jimmie treated her like royalty.

“How much longer?” Kenneth asked, his voice tight. The closer they got, the more desperate he seemed. His nerves were shot, and he was barely holding it together.

Jimmie replied, “Surveillance caught Emily turning that corner. Too far for the cameras to see more. We’re trying to figure out exactly where she is without spooking anyone.”

As he gave the update, Jimmie darted another glance at Beauty, then at Anthony, whose expression was dark as thunder. Both of them were way out of his league. If something happened to Emily on his patch, he’d be screwed.

Charlotte had both hands stuffed into her pockets. Her chin tipped up just a little as she eyed the jumble of buildings ahead.

A few seconds ticked by. Then Charlotte looked at Anthony and said, “Give me a gun,” her voice ice-cold and low.

Anthony didn’t skip a beat. He grabbed a gun from one of his men and handed it over. “Be careful,” he said, quietly.

Charlotte took it, loading the gun with practiced ease. She gave the group a quick look. “Follow me.”

And with that, she stepped in front, picking up speed until she broke into a light run. Anthony moved fast to catch up, his hand finding her waist for support, but he kept his worries to himself. Charlotte shot him a look that said she was fine.

The others traded uncertain glances and fell in behind her. Nobody argued with Charlotte.

They cut through a long, muddy alley, shoes squelching, and finally stopped at a dingy, broken-down brick house lit by a single dim bulb over the door.

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