A wounded man was tied securely to a chair several feet behind her. His hands were restrained, his posture rigid, and a black hood covered his head.
Something about this man's domineering physique even when captured sent a chill down Jasper's spine.
He looked undeniably like Joel. But then Joel was not the kind of man to be easily captured and tied up like a wimp.
Jasper's widened eyes shot back to Carmelita, his rifle lowering.
"What the hell...?"
A devilishly disarming smirk slowly curled up Carmelita's lips as she locked her gaze with Jasper.
"For someone who once called himself the phantom of the night, you move like a snail." She said, her expression completely calm.
Jasper jaws dropped, and his face ashened slightly.
Only one person called him that name, 'phantom of the night' and if his memory served him right, he had watched her pride and arrogance blown up into bits on the night he ended her life.
