Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 967: In his panic over Marisa, he'd completely lost track of Chris' and Maia's situation. Without wasting another second, Maxwell tapped Chris' contact and darted for the exit. Instead of heading off alone, he made up his mind to find Chris first and search together from there. There was still a chance to fix things - if they weren't too late. Before he could take another step, someone yanked him by the arm and dragged him outside. The sudden pull threw Maxwell off balance, and he spun around to see who it was.

A masked figure stood before him, blending in with the costumed crowd that had filled the dance floor earlier. Just as Maxwell prepared to push back, the figure pressed something into his hand - a mask identical to his own. "Put this on and come with me," Chris whispered. "Wait... Mr. Cooper?" Maxwell blinked, confused. Seeing Chris in disguise only deepened his confusion. Why was he hiding his face, too? Still, Maxwell didn't ask questions. He slipped the mask on without hesitation. As they moved, Maxwell quickly updated Chris, explaining the missed calls and the reason he'd gone silent.

Once he learned that Maxwell had been searching for Marisa, Chris didn't scold or question him. Lowering his voice, Chris said, "Word is there's an underground boxing ring hidden around here... I asked you to keep watch, but forget it. Maia's probably already inside. And I'm guessing your sister got dragged into it, too. From what I dug up, they've been thrown onto the stage - forced to fight." That conclusion wasn't a guess. It came from the mouth of an enforcer Chris had cornered earlier.

Let your mind wander with gⱯlnσνs﹒ "What did you just say?" Shock gripped Maxwell as the words sank in, draining the color from his face. A rush of anger followed, and his voice rose. "Damn it! I'm heading back to the car. I need something - anything - I can use as a weapon!" "If you're armed, they won't even let you near the entrance." Before he could move, Chris stepped in and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Rolling his shoulders and squaring his stance, Chris muttered, "This time, we fight bare-handed." No words came from Maxwell. He simply clenched his jaw and gave a sharp nod.

Thunderous cheers echoed throughout the underground boxing arena. Tyrant, towering close to 6.5 feet, looked as though he had been carved out of stone, with muscle-packed shoulders and a back as imposing as a mountain. Every time he swung, it felt like a locomotive barreling through the ring. He attacked with the wild intensity of a beast let loose, charging forward like a shot from a cannon. Blows flew at Maia in rapid succession, each punch slicing through the air with a howling wind and threatening to knock out any opponent.

No ordinary fighter could have survived even a single one of those crushing hits. Yet Maia possessed a nimbleness that seemed almost inhuman. Instead of meeting brute force with force, she darted around Tyrant's assaults, slowly wearing him out while keeping an eye out for any cracks in his offense. . . .