Reborn in the Enemy's Embrace Chapter 182

The enemy of an enemy was a friend. Did Dexter intentionally avoid putting in his best effort to find the murderer and instead just watch them fight?

"What about Sophia?" Eason repeated the question I asked earlier.

If no one were innocent, what about Sophia?

Dexter’s hand was shaking as he held my hand. "She...is the key. She is the subject of geno editing experints and should be showcased in the cabinet as evidence."

So, the person behind it killed . I smiled bitterly. My genes were edited before I was conceived and born.

What did I do wrong? Why should I be ruthlessly killed and used by everyone?

I struggled to free myself from Dexter’s grip, but he held tightly. His voice sounded hoarse as if he was begging . "Sophia..."

He did this every ti I got angry. But I was killed! Would he still condone the mastermind?

I firmly stated, my eyes were red. "I must find the serial murderer! I don’t care why you’re protecting him. I can’t allow him to kill everyone in order to target the so-called mastermind!"

Those lives were innocent! Regardless of their guilt, it was the law that should administer punishnt, not a serial killer!

Dexter lowered his head, his breath trembling with emotion. He still refused to explain. He was so persistent.

I turned my gaze away, no longer relying on him to assist in the search for the serial murderer. I would find the culprit myself.

Eason shook his head. "We’ve been unable to uncover any clues or make any progress in the serial murder case. Despite Juliet’s ongoing dramatic search for trouble, the elusive murderer remains inactive, making it extrely challenging for us. However, the mutilation case is connected to human trafficking. It is suspected that those ’natural’ geniuses have been trafficked as gene vectors. They may be subjected to even more horrifying circumstances. Our top priority is to locate them as quickly as possible."

I nodded with a lingering sense of fear.

He was right. We must prioritize locating those innocent geniuses. They were most likely exploited, being utilized as a ans for reproduction, acting as carriers of genes, as well as repositories for sperm and eggs, with their complete potential being exploited for personal benefit.

"The police’s frequent visits to the Bridgeway Route demolition zone will raise suspicions among the escort girls. The area is densely populated with sex workers, rendering police checks futile. These individuals are akin to skilled fugitives, adept at hiding themselves. However, within such a complex environnt, valuable clues are more likely to surface." Eason carefully analyzed the existing clue points.

In order to locate the abducted teenagers, they needed to head to No. 38 Bridgeway Route.

"There is soone I know. Her na is Carol, and she is Simmy’s sister." I just recalled that Carol lived there. She had a mild intellectual disability. If I could get her to open up, I might be able to learn sothing.

But when I ntioned Carol, Dexter’s expression suddenly changed. "No!"

He appeared reluctant to let et Carol. "She’s ntally disabled. You won’t be able to get information from her. Moreover, the environnt is chaotic and dangerous. You can’t go there."

I furrowed my brow and gazed intently at Dexter. It was clear that he had been concealing more than just one secret from .

In addition, in my mother’s diary, there were disturbing accounts of him imprisoning , kidnapping , and abusing . I was still unable to discern whether these accounts were true or false.

Dexter, what kind of person were you exactly?

"I’m going. Those children have been missing for so many years. Imagine the despair they must feel if they are still alive... I must rescue them!" I insisted on going there.

After all, the disappearance of those genius teenagers was closely related to "Sophia". I felt the need to investigate, either out of guilt or a genuine desire for truth.

Dexter slowly let go of my hand, his voice hoarse. "I’ll go with you..."

No matter what, the priority was to find the missing geniuses at all costs.

I parked my car a distance away and walked to the demolition zone of Bridgeway Route. Dexter remained silent throughout the journey. He was unsure how to stop , yet also dissatisfied with my decision to et Carol.

I felt furious with him because he consistently prevented without providing any explanation. He should have clearly explained the reasons behind his actions. For instance, he could have ntioned that Carol tended to be aggressive and might cause harm to .

Any valid explanation would have been acceptable to . However, he chose to remain silent and stubbornly prevented from proceeding. How could I be happy about it?

"Sophia..." Upon noticing my anger, he promptly bowed his head and ekly trailed behind at a distance of three ters. Just as I was about to step into the demolition zone, he softly uttered my na.

I glanced back at him. He was tall and attractive, but appeared fragile when wearing an oversized sweater, as if he had been a target of bullying.

I scoffed and ignored him. I couldn’t constantly compromise and cater to his every desire.

Seeing that I had ignored him, his eyes were a little red. He sniffed and continued to follow , not too far away but not too close either.

I intentionally quickened my pace, as if I were flaunting my impatience.

I was an ordinary person. But then I discovered that my husband was keeping sothing from and was protecting the person who killed . It was only natural for to feel angry about that.

Why should I be rational with my partner? I had every right to express my anger. Shouldn’t he be able to handle my emotions and be honest with ?

Fuming with anger, I let out a deep growl before turning into an alley. The alley was in a state of disarray, with gangsters and holess people smoking.

I had always harbored a deep fear of these individuals, likely because of the terrifying encounter I had with Damien at the Nocturnal Club.

"Hello there, gorgeous! How much is it?"

"Shall we?"

Those individuals used offensive language as if all won who visited this place were sex workers.

I attempted to disregard those individuals and leave swiftly. However, they persisted, using their hands to prevent from moving. They also said offensive words to .

I felt a twinge of fear and instinctively glanced around to locate Dexter. As soon as I turned around, I found myself in his embrace. His strong arm surrounded , and his soothing voice whispered, "I’m here."

The n sneered, startled by Dexter’s chilling gaze. All of them instinctively backed away.

Dexter grasped my hand and guided down the lengthy alley.

"Dexter, do you think I’m pretentious?" I asked him in a hushed tone.

He took my hand and glanced back at . "Sophia, you asked before. What does it feel like to be afraid? What does dependence feel like? What does fear feel like?"

He spoke softly as if talking to but also to himself. "You ntioned feeling like a monster, lacking emotions, and longing for a normal life. You expressed envy towards those who seem carefree and those won who depend on n. You even shared a willingness to trade your intelligence and reason for a simpler existence."

He whispered, guiding forward with careful steps. The alley stretched ahead, deep, long, and shrouded in darkness. It emanated a sense of dampness and endlessness.

At that mont, it seed as though I had caught a glimpse of Dexter in the past. As he walked into the alley in ill-fitting clothes, he solved one obstacle after another for .

"So, Sophia, I won’t think you’re being pretentious. I’ll be genuinely happy and overjoyed that you’ve finally achieved success and started a new life. This is what you’ve desired, and I only want to safeguard everything for you," Dexter said, his voice tinged with emotion.

I couldn’t quite understand what he said.

Did he imply that I used to be excessively intellectual, almost robotic, and devoid of emotions? Was he suggesting that I yearned to break free from the constraints of my high IQ and be less intellectual, all while embracing my humanity? Did he insinuate that I desired to be pretentious?

I furrowed my brow and seized his arm firmly. "So, what you’re trying to say is that you still believe I am pretentious, huh?"

Dexter smiled and shook his head innocently. "I don’t."

I snorted, shook off Dexter’s hand, and went upstairs. He was constantly following , not too close, not too far. His presence provided with a sense of safety.

"Bitch! Why are you pretending?"

"Ah!"

I heard a scream followed by a man’s cursing.

Suddenly, the door swung open. An infuriated man erged from Carol’s room, cursing, "200 dollars is more than enough for you."