Chapter 531: Proving Her Mettle
It took all of Adrian Hawthorne’s willpower to restrain the urge to rush out and give them a savage beating. But since Rosalind Green was so determined to prove herself, he decided to let his mother give it a try.
"They’re here..."
Jim Thorne whispered, his eyes shining with excitement. Dollar tried to dash out but was held down by Adrian Hawthorne. The pup was remarkably intelligent; it knew its master didn’t want it to make a rash move, so it obediently lay down. Still, it kept its head raised alertly, its ears perked to catch any sound from below.
Three figures had reached the door. The Hawthorne house was pitch-black. The three thugs were so excited they were practically drooling. They were about to get a taste of fresh meat, and they were dying for it!
"Looks like Goldie Thorne was telling the truth," one of them whispered. "That little bastard isn’t home, or he would’ve been out here by now."
These three thugs were from Rosillia Village, and they were brothers. Their whole family was good-for-nothing and lazy, and their parents couldn’t control them. They were detested by everyone in the village. Goldie Thorne had gone to Rosillia Village to play cards and had pretended to casually mention that Rosalind Green was all alone at the Hawthorne residence. The three brothers happened to overhear him, and it immediately put ideas in their heads. They had walked for miles to check out the situation.
"He’s definitely not home," another said, his voice giddy with excitement. "That little bastard’s hearing is sharper than a dog’s. He’d always know the second we got to his door."
"Eldest brother first, then second, and me last. We’ve got all night to enjoy ourselves!"
The three brothers, ever so considerate of their fraternal hierarchy, had it all planned out. Rosalind Green, sitting right behind the door, heard every single word. She tightened her grip on the woodcutting hatchet, her expression as cold as ice. A bag of plant ash hung from her waist, within easy reach. She was fully prepared and determined to teach these three hooligans a bloody lesson.
The brothers took out a blade and began prying at the door. Wooden doors in the countryside were easy to force; all you had to do was dislodge the bolt. The eldest brother worked on the lock while the other two waited behind him, their faces filled with impatient anticipation.
The eldest brother happened to miss the oily patch on the ground and didn’t slip. Rosalind Green wasn’t worried. As soon as the door opened, she would throw the plant ash, then strike with her hatchet. The plan was simple, but Rosalind was still incredibly tense. Her palms were slick with sweat, and her knuckles had turned white from gripping the handle.
CLICK...
The bolt gave way. The wooden door creaked open. Rosalind Green clenched her jaw. She could hear the men’s coarse, heavy breathing from outside, and a damp, disgusting stench wafted in through the crack.
"She’s dead asleep. Perfect for us."
Seeing how quiet the house was, the brothers rushed in. Rosalind Green grabbed a handful of ash, but before she could throw it, she heard a SPLAT. One of them had slipped and fallen flat on his face.
"Ouch! Why is the floor so slippery...?"
"What’s the rush? We’ve got all night."
The other man went to help him up and promptly slipped and fell himself. Only the eldest brother at the front was still standing. Seizing the opportunity, Rosalind Green flung the ash. A gray cloud flew through the air. The eldest brother instinctively raised a hand to wipe his eyes, and in that moment, a sharp pain exploded on his head. He collapsed to the ground as hot, sticky blood trickled from his forehead. He wiped at it, and his hand came away smeared with red. The sight left him dazed with fear.
’How is this happening? This isn’t how it was supposed to go.’
’Wasn’t that little bastard supposed to be gone?’
Rosalind Green charged out. The second and third brothers were still on the ground, yet to react, when another cloud of ash hit them. They finally realized something was wrong, but it was too late. Rosalind’s hatchet was already swinging down.
"I’ll kill you!"