Andrew had Marcus figured out by now. If he had to sum him up in one sentence, it would be—a closet hedonist, through and through.

The two were originally planning to head back to Rhodes Corporation together. However, before they could leave, Andrew's phone rang—it was Francesca.

"Andrew, where are you? Get to Moonlit Apothecary right now—Nyla's in critical condition!" Her voice was trembling, thick with panic and distress.

Andrew's face turned ice-cold. "What happened? Take a deep breath and tell me everything!"

Francesca broke down into sobs. "That hunchbacked bastard—Aspen's guy—the one she hired! He hit Nyla, Andrew! Please, hurry! The poison is spreading fast—I can't save her!"

Andrew did not waste another second. He hung up, slammed his foot on the gas, and tore through the streets toward Moonlit Apothecary.

If Francesca's description was right, Nyla had been struck by Gordon's Plaguebringer's Palm.

Andrew had survived it before because he was immune to toxins. Howe