Pampered By My Three Brothers: The Return Of The Neglected Heiress - 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.

“You don’t want to tell me?” Zoren asked lazily. “Then I assume you also won’t tell me why you want to kill me?”

Again, silence.

Zoren gave a slow nod, then turned to the side. “Make him talk,” he ordered flatly, his gaze landing on Mark.

At the command, Mark stepped forward. The moment his eyes met Slater’s, his expression hardened.

“Mark?” Slater’s voice wavered in surprise.

“Slater.” Mark’s face remained unreadable. Though they had never been close, they had been classmates once. Mark had never wished for this kind of reunion. “Please, just answer him. He’s not your enemy, Slater.”

Slater’s breath hitched as his expression blanked. “I know,” he murmured. “This isn’t personal.”

Mark’s jaw clenched. “Then I take this to mean you’re refusing to cooperate?”

Slater shut his eyes, bracing himself.

After a second, a brutal punch slammed into his cheek.

“Slater,” Mark called, his voice edged with frustration, launching another strike. “Just talk.”

But Slater didn’t.

So Mark did what he had to do—forced the information out of him.

Slater’s grunts echoed through the morgue as blood began to splatter. The punches kept coming, and yet Zoren didn’t so much as flinch. He simply watched, unmoved, as Slater’s face swelled beyond recognition.

“He’s not going to talk,” Mark finally muttered, stepping back and shaking out his bloodied fist. He could see blood pooling at the corners of Slater’s lips, a few teeth missing.

“Master,” he turned to Zoren. “This isn’t working.”

Zoren arched a brow indifferently and shrugged. “Is that so?” was all he said before reclining on the autopsy table as if it were a chaise lounge. “What a shame, then. I wonder if I should just kill him too.”

Mark clenched his jaw, watching Zoren’s relaxed posture. This wasn’t the same Zoren he had once known. Lately, Zoren had been on a ruthless rampage, hiring men to do his dirty work—killing without hesitation. Mark had long realized that leaving wasn’t an option anymore.

“Tch,” Slater let out a weak snort, barely able to see through his swollen eye. His entire body throbbed, and his face burned from the relentless beating. But even in his agony, the fire in his spirit refused to die.

“You… want to know why I want to kill you?” Slater rasped, his words slurred from the pain. “Because…” He spat blood onto the floor. “Because your death will save a life.”

Zoren arched a brow but remained still, eyes closed.

“My sister is innocent,” Slater continued weakly. “You’re not. So tell me… why should she die while you live?”

A deep furrow formed between Mark’s brows. He stared at Slater, confusion washing over him.

“What are you talking about?” Mark muttered. “Penny’s… dead.”