When Caspian Warner returned to the bed after hanging up the phone, Titus Zane's acute sense of smell told him something was wrong.
The nearly two-meter-tall man slowly approached the bed, staring at Titus Zane. His thick lips curved into a slight smile. The inherently dangerous illusion that black people often project made Caspian's expression even more terrifying to Titus.
With his hands tied behind his back, he curled up on the bed, struggling just to prop himself up.
But as the man drew closer step by step, Titus still tried hard to sit up, scooting backwards on the bed as much as he could...
"Do you know what Sister Hua just said on the phone?" Caspian sat sideways on the bed, his broad palm brushing away the hair covering Titus's face, his thick lips curling up as his hawk-like eyes gleamed with amusement as if he was looking at his prey.
