Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 257: Angela’s Threat

Angela’s words cut through the quiet, sharp and relentless. "Good. Let’s get straight to the point."

She slammed her glass down with intent, the impact resonating like a firearm's crack in the silent room. Her fingers stayed on the rim for a beat, as if she were grounding herself, before she fixed me with a stare cold enough to freeze blood.

"You are aware of my daughters." It was a statement of fact, not an inquiry. "I want you to track them down. Return them to me. Alive." Her tone sank to a soft whisper, every syllable dripping with a dark sense of urgency. "However, total secrecy is required. No one within this fortress can know—only you and I."

I remained motionless, my thoughts spinning. This wasn't merely a job. "And if I refuse?" I questioned, probing the limits and watching her like a predator for any sign of weakness.

Angela’s mouth twisted into a grimace that lacked any warmth. "Refusal isn’t an option." She shifted closer, her voice descending into a lethal purr.

"But since the question was raised—" She grasped her glass once more, swirling the drink as if weighing her upcoming words. "In return, I can provide anything you desire. Anything at all."

I let the promise linger in the air, sensing its gravity. "Anything?" I echoed, my voice thick with doubt.

She gave a single, decisive nod. "Money. Power. Influence. Whatever you name."

I folded my arms and leaned back against the sofa, keeping my eyes locked on hers. "Fine. I’ll bring her back." A brief silence followed. "But I require answers first."

Angela’s eyes narrowed, yet she didn't interrupt. "Ask."

"I want the truth about you and your daughter." I maintained the stare, refusing to look away. "Don't give me any of that nonsense about me not needing to know. If I'm putting my life on the line for this, I've earned the truth. Why haven't you deployed your army of soldiers? Why choose me?"

For a moment, Angela was a statue. Then, with a slow motion, she raised her glass and finished the remaining liquid in one gulp.

As she placed it back on the table, a slight tremor shook her hands—but the real giveaway was her eyes. They were moist, shimmering in the low light, as if my inquiry had hit a nerve she had kept hidden for years.

"You aren't the one asking questions here," she snapped, her voice turning raw as the icy facade cracked to show the turmoil beneath. "You take orders. That is the extent of what you need to know."

I didn't budge. "Then perhaps I’m not the right man for the job."

Angela’s face clouded over. She stood up violently, her chair screeching against the floor, and closed the distance between us. Her voice dropped to a poisonous hiss. "Let me be extremely clear, Mike."

Reaching into her pocket, she produced a small gadget and tapped it. The opposite wall burst into life, showing a live video of a dimly lit interior.

My breath hitched when I saw it—Emily’s bedroom. My wife was there, curled on the sofa, completely unaware of the surveillance. With a swipe, the image shifted—this time showing my mother-in-law occupied in the kitchen.

Another swipe revealed Oliver, sharing a laugh with his subordinates, totally blind to the betrayal happening behind him.

My gut churned.

Angela’s voice was like shards of ice. "Do you honestly think you have a choice?" She moved even closer until her warm breath brushed my ear.

"Understand this: you are working for me now. And you will obey my commands." She leaned in, her whisper turning venomous.

"Unless you'd prefer something unfortunate to happen to your wife, Emily... or perhaps your mother-in-law."

There was a pause. A heavy, calculated beat of silence. Then, like a blade twisting in a wound, she added, "Or perhaps you’d like Oliver to discover you’ve been fucking both of them behind his back, hmm?"

A low, mocking laugh escaped her. "I am aware of everything, Mike. Every whisper. Every touch. Every secret you believed was buried."

I balled my fists, my mind racing through the chaos. "What is it you want?"

"I want my daughters returned," she spat, her voice shaking with suppressed rage. "And I want you to be the one to get them. Because if you fail—" She waved a hand toward the monitors, where the images of my life and secrets were exposed.

"If you fail, ruin will be the least of your worries. I’ll ensure Oliver knows the whole truth before I permit him to end your life. And after that? I’ll make sure Emily and your precious mother-in-law follow you to the grave." She leaned back, her gaze cold and filled with triumph. "So, Mike. Do we understand each other?"

The atmosphere in the room felt heavy and stifling. I swallowed with difficulty, processing the threats and the absolute leverage she held over me. She had me by the throat, and we both knew it.

"We have an understanding," I muttered eventually, keeping my voice level despite the internal storm. Regardless, she was talking about Mike, not me.

Angela offered a slow, predatory smile, like a wolf that had finally trapped its meal. "Good." She turned away, tapping the device again. The monitors flickered and went dark, leaving the room in a shadowed hush. "Do not let me down."

She faced me again, her look becoming more clinical and calculating. "I don’t possess their exact coordinates," she confessed, her tone clipped.

"However—" She tapped the gadget once more, and a holographic map shimmered into existence above the table, casting a blue glow. A red dot pulsed steadily within a secluded, thick forest. "—this marks the final known position of their transport."

I leaned forward, squinting as I examined the map. The coordinates were disturbingly precise. "How did you manage to get this?" I asked, my voice laced with doubt. "Do you already have satellites in orbit?"

Angela didn't look up. "Let’s just say my resources are beyond your understanding." Her fingers moved across the interface, magnifying the area.

"The GPS has likely been deactivated by now. They aren't fools. But this is the last place they were spotted. Beyond this point?" She finally looked at me, her eyes flashing with an unreadable darkness. "You are on your own."

I crossed my arms, re-evaluating the map. It was a massive territory—thick woods, meandering rivers, and a complete lack of roads. "You’re throwing me into a needle-in-a-haystack search with zero support. Why do you believe I can even locate them?"

Angela’s lips curled back into that irritating smirk. "Because you are clever. And because you lack any other choice." She reached into her pocket, pulled out a sleek, small device, and tossed it toward me. I caught it by reflex, my hand closing around the chilled metal.

"What is this?" I asked, inspecting the object.

"A tracker," she replied simply. "Activate it when you find them. It will alert me directly—no intermediaries, no interference. You find them, use that, and our business is concluded." Her voice turned stone-cold. "But if you attempt a double-cross, or even consider fleeing? That unit has a failsafe. And believe me, Mike, you do not want to experience what it does."

I ground my teeth, feeling the weight of the object in my hand. It wasn't just a tracker; it was a collar. "And if I don't return?"

Angela’s stare remained firm. "Then I will conclude you failed. And you already know the price of failure." She didn't have to repeat the threat. The images of Emily and my mother-in-law played in my mind—a silent, choking warning.

I slid the device into my pocket, the cold metal brushing my skin. "Fine," I said quietly. "I’ll track them down. But I’m not doing this empty-handed. I need weapons, gear, and a way to move undetected."