"Well..." Sara hesitated, clearly reluctant to deliver the news.
"Fire her! I will invest," Felix declared, his tone decisive. The prospect of investing in a project free from the actress's disruptive presence was far more appealing than enduring her persistent advances.
Anastasia, meanwhile, had already vanished into the throng of people, her mind focused solely on locating Vladimir. The incident with the elderly man had been a minor distraction, a brief interruption in her primary mission.
She activated her phone's tracking system, pinpointing Vladimir's location a few blocks away. He was being cornered by a group of older thugs, their faces contorted with malice.
As she sprinted towards the scene, she could hear snippets of their taunts and threats. Vladimir was seventeen years old handsome, tall, hot, gorgeous his pretty much your dream guy. But no matter what one can say he will be the future and the biggest antagonist in this novel. One must allow to happen.
Anastasia picked up peddles of rocks and she stepped forward.
"You idiots dare to touch my people?" Anastasia asked.
A thug stepped forward.
"Tsk tsk if you aren't a little pretty little thing," one of the thug said and Anastasia flicked a peddled forward and the man felt someone crack he fall on the ground he saw a small peddle rock.
"Oops, come at me fools," Anastasia said waving her finger at the group of thugs.
The thugs, emboldened by their numbers, surged forward, attempting to overwhelm Anastasia with a flurry of clumsy attacks. But Anastasia was far from defenseless. Years of rigorous training in various martial arts disciplines, honed by her unique system interface and fueled by her unwavering determination, made her a formidable opponent.
With a graceful fluidity that belied her petite frame, she dodged and weaved through their clumsy lunges, her movements precise and efficient. A swift flip sent one thug sprawling onto the pavement, while a wellplaced kick sent another stumbling backward. She handled them with the practiced ease of a seasoned warrior, but deliberately restrained her strength, ensuring that their injuries were minimal.
Finally, she turned her attention to the leader of the group – a burly man with a sneer permanently etched on his face.
Finally, she turned her attention to the leader of the group – a burly man with a sneer permanently etched on his face. With a deceptively delicate step, Anastasia placed her foot squarely on his head, pinning him to the ground.
"Remember this," she said, her voice low and dangerously calm.
"Touch my people, and it's the same as asking the Grim Reaper to come knocking at your door." She punctuated her warning with a sharp kick to his ribs, just enough to convey the seriousness of her threat without causing lasting harm.
The sound of approaching sirens filled the air. A police car screeched to a halt nearby, and two officers emerged, their expressions stern.
"Who called the police?" one of the officers asked, surveying the scene with a critical eye.
"Officer, I called the police."
"Officer, I called the police," Anastasia stated, her voice dripping with an innocent tremor.
"Officer! This girl bullied us!" the thugs protested, attempting to shift the blame. Anastasia, however, perfected the art of portraying vulnerability. She widened her eyes, feigned a trembling lip, and adopted a pitiful expression.
"How can I beat you? All of you are so big! I'm seventeen years old," she whined, her voice barely above a whisper. The officers, clearly swayed by her convincing act of innocence, exchanged skeptical glances.
"You four will come with us! How dare you bully a seventeenyearold and act all mighty!" one of the officers declared, cuffing the thugs and leading them towards the patrol car.
As the police car sped away, Anastasia allowed her carefully constructed facade to crumble.
She returned to her normal, cool demeanor, her gaze settling on Vladimir, who stood a little apart from the commotion. He was taller than she was, his muscular frame radiating an understated power. His dark hair fell across his forehead, partially obscuring his intense eyes.
"Are you okay?" Anastasia asked, her voice soft and genuinely concerned.
Vladimir turned to face her, and Anastasia felt a strange sensation ripple through her as their eyes met. His expression was unreadable for a moment, a flicker of something cold and calculating passing across his features. But as he looked directly at her, his eyes softened, radiating a surprising gentleness and warmth that seemed entirely at odds with his reputation as a ruthless villain.
"Yes, thank you," he said quietly, his voice deeper than she expected.
{Casper, are you sure he's a villain? He's so innocent! Look at him!} Anastasia thought, her internal monologue laced with genuine confusion. The image of Vladimir's gentle eyes and quiet gratitude tugged at her heartstrings. It was difficult to reconcile the brooding, menacing figure described in the novel with the vulnerable young man standing before her.
Anastasia and Casper both turned their attention to Vladimir. Casper, sensing his host's turmoil, zoomed around in a frantic circle before finally plopping himself onto Anastasia's head, his tiny form vibrating with exasperation.
"Host, he might be just a minor villain," Casper said defensively.
"The system isn't always accurate!"
"Crappy system," Anastasia muttered under her breath, unable to completely suppress her frustration.
"Host! Don't say that!"
"I used so much points to upgrade you and what is the change? The system just changed from blue to purple!" Anastasia complained to Casper, directing her frustration at the digital entity perched atop her head. Casper whined internally, his circuits buzzing with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. His host was notoriously badtempered when faced with unexpected developments.
Anastasia abruptly stopped walking, realizing that Vladimir hadn't followed her. She turned back to find him standing still, his expression unreadable. As she looked closer, she noticed a faint discoloration around his arm – a clear indication of bruising beneath his clothes. Holy crap, could he really be hurt? A wave of unexpected guilt washed over Anastasia. She felt like she had been too heartless, too detached from the situation.
"Vladimir."
Vladimir's gaze lingered on Anastasia for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. He couldn't deny the peculiar charm of her demeanor – the slight tilt of her head, the soft curve of her lips, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle with an almost childlike innocence. She looked like a little sleepy fox who wanted to be praised, he thought, a fleeting image that momentarily disrupted his carefully constructed facade of stoicism.
"Thanks," Vladimir said, his voice low and measured. He finished the elixir, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his body, easing the lingering ache in his muscles.
Anastasia watched him expectantly, a subtle eagerness radiating from her. She couldn't quite decipher why she felt compelled to offer him kindness, to extend a gesture of friendship towards someone who was supposed to be her adversary.