The Heiress Spoiled by Four Brothers and One Devilish CEO-Chapter 39 Not the Villain—Just a Pawn

Throughout the entire match, all she could hear were cries of pain, the crunch of bones snapping, and heavy thuds hitting the floor.

Eventually, it was drowned out by the roars of the crowd and the shrill screams of the rich ladies in the stands.

She figured that scar-faced guy must’ve won.

Her vision finally cleared up, and Megan looked up to see the scarred man cloaked in black.

His opponent lay motionless on the ring, blood dripping from his mouth and pooling around him. His chest wasn’t moving at all.

Yeah... he was gone.

"They signed a death waiver before the fight," Tristan explained to Megan. "Whatever happens in the ring, the arena doesn’t take responsibility. People’s lives here? Might as well be dust."

At that moment, the referee raised the scar-faced guy’s arm and yelled, "Tonight’s champion is Daniel Flynn!"

But Daniel didn’t look the least bit proud—he seemed totally out of it.

No speech, no pose—he stepped off the stage and made straight for the locker room.

Tristan got up, still holding Megan’s hand. "Come on, let’s go catch ourselves a rat."

Wading through the packed crowd, they headed backstage toward the locker rooms.

Oddly, no one stopped them the whole way.

Megan gave Tristan’s big hand a squeeze. "Babe, doesn’t this seem a little too easy? Something’s off."

Tristan gave her a half-smile. "Silly girl, you didn’t actually think it was just the two of us here for this, did you? The fighters in this place are no joke, and the security’s not either. You’re with me, so your safety is top priority. Just stay behind me no matter what, alright?"

As they spoke, they reached the locker room door.

Tristan made sure Megan was tucked safely behind him, and the two positioned themselves to the side of the door.

He knocked.

Moments later, the door creaked open—and a black pistol pointed straight out at them.

Megan, shielded behind Tristan’s broad shoulders, didn’t see any of the sudden danger.

All she saw was Tristan’s hands shooting out in a blur. A gunshot rang out, followed by a stifled grunt.

Megan froze, then quickly snapped back to reality. She darted around to Tristan’s front and saw Daniel clutching a semi-automatic, the muzzle now twisted back toward himself thanks to Tristan’s grip.

He’d taken the shot in his right shoulder, teeth clenched in pain, eyes flaring with fury.

When he saw Megan pop out, he glared at her like he wanted to eat her alive.

Well, excuse you!

She wasn’t the type to be fazed by a dirty look—not after dying once and living to tell the tale.

Megan’s lips curled up in a wicked smile. She made a scissor gesture at him with her fingers, then pounced and jabbed him square in his bulging eyes!

And as she landed, she went in for a savage hit straight to the groin.

Unless he was wearing steel boxers, that had to hurt—bad. Pure damage, high humiliation.

Daniel’s face contorted as he trembled, the gun slipping from his fingers. His knees buckled inwards, expression twisted, tears streaming as he crumpled to the ground.

Total wreck.

Megan shot a proud look at Tristan and raised her eyebrow. "Guys like this? Gotta be fast, fierce, and direct. Hit where it counts when they least expect it!"

Tristan let out a low chuckle as he took the gun. "Break ’em if you want—but only mine’s off-limits."

Megan’s smile stiffened. What the heck was that supposed to mean?! Total wild move.

Meanwhile, Daniel watched the two flirt as though he wasn’t even there—like he was just some half-dead extra.Before anyone could react, Daniel gritted his teeth against the pain and yanked a knife from his waistband, lunging it straight at Megan.

A gunshot tore through the air.

The knife clattered to the ground.

Smoke curled up from the hot barrel as blood suddenly began dripping from a gaping hole in Daniel’s left hand.

Tristan’s face was cold as ice, his eyes burning with deadly intent.

He yanked Daniel up by the hair and dragged him into the locker room without saying a word.

Megan had never seen this side of Tristan—ruthless, terrifying. Her mind flashed back to their previous life: back when he found her in prison, when he burnt Wyatt and Molly to ash. Probably looked just like this—like death itself.

Too bad she hadn’t been able to see it clearly then.

She scanned around cautiously, made sure no one else was watching, and followed them in, locking the door behind her.

Tristan hauled Daniel in front of a bench and sat down with an unsettling calm, spinning the pistol in his hand like he had all the time in the world.

Megan stepped up right next to him.

"Who the hell are you?! I’ve got no beef with you!"

Daniel, now cowering on the ground, had none of the ferocity he’d shown on the ring. He looked pitiful.

As soon as Tristan took off his cap, Daniel’s pupils contracted hard.

His voice trembled. "Y-You’re Tristan Reid?"

Tristan stared him down, eyes like blades. "Who told you to kidnap Chloe Shaw?"

Daniel froze, then looked away, brow tightly furrowed. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Tristan stopped playing with the gun and leaned in, pressing the muzzle right between Daniel’s brows. "Ending you would be easier than stepping on a bug."

Daniel didn’t flinch. He shoved his head forward against the barrel, jaw clenched, like he was already ready to die.

Then Tristan suddenly pulled back, tucking the gun away. "I’ll help you get your daughter back. But you’re gonna testify."

Daniel blinked, stunned. He looked up at Tristan with disbelief, something like hope flickering in his tired eyes. "You... you’ll help me save my daughter?"

Megan was confused now. Daughter?

Tristan straightened up, composed as ever—calm and collected, like a king on his throne.

He said slowly, "Daniel Flynn. Thirty-seven. His daughter has leukemia and is being treated at Benevita Hospital. Three days ago she was kidnapped. The people behind it made him snatch Chloe and take her to Prestige Club. Someone was supposed to pick her up there."

Daniel crawled forward on the floor. "I don’t even know who took her! She’s just six, and she’s right in the middle of treatment. If she misses her meds now, she’ll die! Please, Mr. Reid, I’m begging you—just save my girl. I’ll do anything. Anything you ask."

Megan finally got it. Daniel wasn’t the mastermind—he was forced into this because someone had his daughter. He was both a victim and a pawn.

She wasn’t the kind of person to hand out forgiveness easily, but that little girl? She was innocent.

He probably took the underground match for the prize money—to pay for her treatment.

"We’re only after whoever’s really behind all this," Megan said coldly. "If you help us testify in court, we’ll cover your daughter’s medical expenses."

Daniel turned to look at her, eyes glassy, already knowing that testifying would likely land him in prison. But what could possibly matter more than his daughter’s life?

With Tristan on his side, there was hope again.

"I’ll do it," he said without hesitation. "Whatever it takes for my girl."

That’s when the locker room door suddenly burst open with a bang.