Dylan shrugged casually, clearly indifferent. He had already tried to warn Natasha, but if she refused to listen, there was not much he could do.

It was obvious that Andrew was cutting her some slack—if someone like Michael had dared to act up, they would have been slapped into submission long ago.

By the time Andrew returned to Moonlit Sanctuary, the sun was setting. He pushed open the door to the small house on the hill and found Marvin lounging under the tree at a stone table, sipping leisurely on some liquor.

The table held not just Andrew's prized bottle of aged whiskey but also a few snacks that were perfect for drinking. Andrew walked over and smirked. "When did you start getting into the finer things in life, old man?"

Marvin chuckled and raised his glass. "Sir, you're giving me too much credit. These fancy little snacks? Definitely not my handiwork."

He gestured toward the house with a knowing look.

Andrew frowned in confusion. "Who else would be here?"

Just as