Chapter 1567: Stop Messing Around, Get Down

Chapter 1567: Chapter 1567: Stop Messing Around, Get Down

Scarlett Yates saw clearly, her heart leaping suddenly, and hurriedly said, "You can’t kill him."

Matthew Saxon glared at her with a sullen look.

Afraid he’d misunderstand, she quickly explained, "I’m not defending him, but if you kill him, you have to pay with your life. I... I don’t want to be a widow."

"Scarlett Yates, you..."

She was really driving him mad.

Covering her mouth, she whispered, "Killing someone means paying with your life, it’s only natural. For such a person, it’s not worth sacrificing your own life. Haven’t you often told me that the harshest punishment isn’t death but making him suffer a life worse than death? If he falls into your hands, you can slowly torture him and force him to hand over the antidote."

"In any case... such a bloody act of murder, don’t ever do it."

He wanted to mock her naivety but reconsidered, thinking it was normal for her to have such thoughts growing up in an ordinary family.

In the world of ordinary people, there aren’t so many complexities.

Actually, she had no idea that some things didn’t require him to personally get involved.

Still, he wanted to tease her a bit, "If I insist on killing him, do you think you can stop me?"

She took it seriously indeed, looking incredibly tense, promptly unbuckling her seatbelt and lunging toward him.

"Scarlett Yates, what are you doing?"

After she threw herself on him, she sat on his lap, bent down, hunched over, and began exploring his body.

Her target was clear, reaching directly into his coat pocket.

There was a gun in one of the pockets.

"I’m stopping you from committing a crime." Amidst the chaos, she even looked up at him, saying seriously.

He was taken aback, practically at a loss whether to laugh or cry.

His previously sullen face suddenly couldn’t hold it anymore.

"Don’t act recklessly, get off me."

A dangerous thing like a gun, could she handle it?

Scarlett’s hand already reached into his coat pocket, touching that cold gun: "Then promise me you won’t kill anyone."

Was Maxwell Saxon hateful?

The answer was undoubtedly yes; she hated him so much she wished she could skin him alive.

But she didn’t want Matthew Sakon to get stained with blood because of that kind of person.

Matthew pursed his lips, took a deep breath, "Will you get down or not?"

"Promise me first." She was about to snatch his gun, but her wrist got grabbed.

Matthew exerted some force, a sour pain spread in her wrist, making her hand go limp.

"Do you want to die?" He gripped her jaw, eyes showing a mix of annoyance and helplessness, "I can give you anything else, but is this something you can take?"

"If I really wanted Maxwell Saxon dead, would just taking away a gun stop me?"

She was at a loss for words.

Matthew took her hand out of the bag, holding it tightly: "Don’t mess around again, do you understand how dangerous a misfire is?"

He said it very seriously.

Yet Scarlett’s face inexplicably turned red.

Well, because just as Matthew said ’misfire’, she also felt something not quite right.

She was sitting on his lap.

Matthew felt it too.

He paused, then frowned tightly, his phoenix eyes squinted, looking at her with a flash of fire in his eyes.

"Still not getting off?" His voice was low, slightly husky, he took a deep breath as if restraining something.