"What—"
Oliver's hands shook, reaching for his bleeding cheek.
While all attention is shifted to me, I flashed a satisfied grin and gave the Elites a proud look.
Murmurs surfaced between the Elites, probably thinking of me as a rogue executive.
"DAVID!"
"Oh, it's here."
Oliver burned with rage. He was panting, his chest a tight cage, and the air refused to leave his lungs.
"You lost this round, Oliver. Now hand me Adrian."
A quiet growl escaped his lips. "No."
"I won't hand him. I won this time."
Staring at me with bloodlust, he sneered.
"You couldn't save him last time. Why are you pretending to be a hero now?"
"I..."
"Enough."
Someone commanded.