If Finley weren’t in such a desperate position, there was no way he would have given in so easily. After Wind left, Finley glared hatefully at Arthur. “Now can you let me go?” Arthur didn’t even look at him. He turned to the guards and said coldly, “Tie him up. He’s coming with us.” “Yes, sir.” The guards moved without hesitation, grabbing Finley and securing him tightly. Finley froze in disbelief. He struggled and shouted, “Arthur! Are you kidnapping me?! This is illegal!” Arthur didn’t respond. He simply turned and followed Wind out the door. Panic set in. Finley had just lost a finger. If he got to the hospital quickly enough, they might be able to reattach it. But if he went with Arthur to where the others were being held, it might be too late. His thoughts spun. Then suddenly, he remembered the police. “You took me from the cops! If you don’t return me soon, they’ll come after you!” In his mind, Arthur’s power was still a fluke—temporary, borrowed. Once his father Solivair returned, Arthur would be crushed without a doubt. But no matter what he shouted, Arthur’s pace never slowed. Finley was dragged, nearly hauled, into the vehicle. And now, real terror set in. He clutched his injured hand. The severed finger was still tucked away in his pocket. He started sobbing. “Arthur, I told you the truth! That’s really where they’re being kept!” “Just take me to a hospital. If we don’t hurry, they won’t be able to save my finger!”Arthur remained silent. “Drive,” he ordered coldly. “Yes, sir.” The car shot forward like a launched arrow. Finley lost it. He dropped all pretense, got on his knees in the back seat, and cried out. “Arthur, take me to the hospital first! I swear, if you help me save this finger, I’ll give you money! However much you want!” He didn’t understand why Arthur was being so ruthless now, but Finley could feel it—if he didn’t offer something big, Arthur would let him rot. Arthur might be willing to face prison. Might be willing to die. But Finley couldn’t lose his finger. To him, the biggest weapon he had left was money. He was sure Arthur—someone from a small background—would bend for the right price. People like that always did. He’d met plenty of them before. He didn’t believe for a second that Arthur would resist an offer like that. But to his shock, Arthur didn’t even flinch. Finley scrambled to add, “I didn’t lie! They’re all there! The four of them are locked up just like I said! I swear!” “If we don’t go now, I’ll lose the finger! It’s going to be gone!” He tried every angle, every excuse, but Arthur didn’t react. Not once. Finally, Finley snapped. His eyes burned with rage as he shouted, “If I lose this finger, forget the money—I'll make you wish you were dead!”For the first time since they got in the car, Arthur finally looked at him. But what he said next crushed the last bit of hope Finley had left. He didn’t argue. Didn’t respond. He simply turned to the guard and said, “Gag him.” “Yes, sir.” The guard had been waiting for that order. He looked around the car. No tape. So, without a second thought, he pulled off his own sock and shoved it into Finley’s mouth. Finley gagged immediately. His hands were already tied. He couldn’t do anything. The stench from the sock hit him like a sledgehammer, overwhelming and putrid. He tried to vomit. But with his mouth stuffed, the bile had nowhere to go. After gagging and struggling, he finally swallowed it back down. Outside an abandoned factory. Arthur and Wind stepped out of the car. Taylor, still shaken, had been left behind to rest at the villa. Ashley had insisted on coming—she refused to stay behind while her parents might be in danger. Arthur didn’t stop her. Finley was dragged roughly out of the car.