You're Out Daddy

Chapter 613

Natasha fell into a daze, only regaining her senses a few moments later.

As she stared at Spencer, she asked, “When did I get poisoned? Why don't I know anything?”

While performing the checkup on her, he replied casually, “How would I know if you don't? Think back

carefully if anything special happened.”

At that, she narrowed her eyes.

“Could this occur when I was at Vermillion Base...” Natasha mused. But there wasn't anyone near me

at that time.

Spencer merely continued doing his work in silence.

“Is there a possibility that I got poisoned because I was hurt by blades when fighting with others?” She

lifted her gaze to look at him.

Her countenance was unusually calm. It was as if she was analyzing another person's poisoning case.

Nonetheless, seemingly having grown used to her composed demeanor, Spencer replied, “If the blade

was poisoned, it might be one of the possibilities.”

Natasha ruminated on it, then muttered, “But that's not possible too. At that time, General Will tossed

me into the southern camp to slowly torture me to death, so he couldn't have done something as

unnecessary as this!”

Right after those words fell from her lips, Spencer shifted his gaze onto her. “What did you say? The

southern camp?”

She looked up. “What's the matter?”

“Do you know what kind of place the southern camp is?” he questioned.

“Isn't that just a messy, chaotic place filled with men where the strong bullies the weak?” she uttered

nonchalantly.

Spencer was rendered speechless.

He did not know how to respond to her description.

After a brief pause of silence, he corrected her. “The southern camp is a place for monsters. Do you

know why? That's because the southern camp is Vermillion Base's death camp. Every person there is

inhumane, and no one, regardless of their gender, ever made it out of there alive.”

Hearing his elaboration, Natasha knitted her brows and retorted, “The situation there wasn't as

exaggerated as you mentioned!”

“How am I exaggerating? Did you really go there?”

“Yes!”

Spencer could not help but look at her doubtfully. Still, he knew her very well. She was a taciturn

woman and thus would never care to boast about something that did not happen.

“I've never heard of anyone escaping the southern camp alive. How did you do that?” he asked.

Blinking, Natasha replied indifferently, “By killing others.”

Spencer stared at her in a momentary daze, regarding her with a dubious look.

“Nat, I'm not looking down on you, but there's no way you could've done that alone at that huge

southern camp,” he said.

“If that's the case, the Natasha standing before you right now would be a ghost,” she retorted.

Spencer was stumped for words, so he asked, “How did you make your way out by killing others,

then?”

“Actually, I have you to thank for that.”

“Me?”

She nodded before hinting at him. “Your needle.”

After a slight pause, he responded, “Do you mean the needle I gifted to you previously?”

Natasha bobbed her head in agreement.

“I gave you that needle so that you could treat yourself when you suffer a relapse from your wrist

condition,” he remarked.

“Evidently, the needle did more than that. It saved my life,” she stated.

He bored his eyes into her for a long while before he piped up, “If I hadn't known you and understood

your personality, I would undoubtedly think you're lying now.”

Natasha remained silent.

“Did you truly kill those people and flee from the camp using a needle?” he then inquired.

“They came at me one by one. Maybe because they underestimated me, I had the advantage of taking

them by surprise.”

Her sudden humble remark prompted Spencer to praise her. “Even if the initial enemies you fought

underestimated you, what about the ones you faced afterward? You shouldn't credit your success

solely on the element of surprise. Those people were all brawn and no brains. They had the strength

but lacked the strategies. Hence, what you relied on were your capabilities and intelligence!”

Natasha did not feel like denying it.

At times, receiving compliments from others worked wonders in brightening one's mood.

Looking at her, Spencer seemed to have suddenly recalled something. “How many people did you kill?”

Natasha furrowed her brows as she tried hard to recollect. “I can't remember clearly. Perhaps there

was only one person left? Or did I murder every one of them? I was too exhausted to pay attention to

the numbers.”

He was at a loss for words as he gazed at the woman in front of him.

She has a gorgeous, harmless-looking face, yet she's uttering these hair-raising statements.

“Your beautiful appearance is such a waste,” he blurted out a few seconds later.

Natasha could not care less about his opinion. At that instant, she was only fixated on how she was

poisoned.

“I'm considering this possibility. If they didn't poison me on purpose, could it be one of those guys was

poisoned, and I accidentally came in contact with the substance?” she asked.

Hearing her deduction, Spencer said, “Let me see the wounds you sustained previously.”

Natasha immediately rolled up her sleeves and revealed the long and thin scar near her upper arm. As

she had an extremely fair skin tone, it would not be easily discernible if one did not examine her skin

closely.

Spencer checked the scar before asking, “Are there any other wounds?”

She pulled her top a little lower, off her shoulder, to show him her skin near the upper part of her

shoulder.

After inspecting the wound, he shook his head solemnly. “These wounds do not show signs of

poisoning.”

“Not these?” she asked.

“Poisoned wounds wouldn't recover so well. They will usually grow darker, and some may not even

heal. Hence, these wounds are not the cause.”

Natasha knitted her brows. “What else can it be?”

“I'm afraid you're the only one who knows that.”

Spencer continued to examine her while she remained in a half-lying position. She took a walk down

memory lane, meticulously replaying the incidents that happened to her during that period in her mind.

Ultimately, she was reminded of Boss.

The image of him stayed in her mind.

She recalled the scenes when Boss brought her out and told her the truth. At that time, she wanted to

leave, but he injected her with something, causing her to fall unconscious afterward.

When she woke up again, it was already the next day.

At that thought, Natasha gazed at Spencer and queried, “Could this poison be injected into my body?”

He nodded. “That's highly plausible.”

In an instant, she narrowed her eyes, thinking back to where Boss had jabbed her with the needle.

Then, she brushed her hair to one side, exposing her charming and alluring neck to view.

“Check this area.”

Spencer leaned forward and inspected the place she was pointing at.

There was a tiny dot the size of a needle there. “How long ago were you jabbed?” he asked.

“Half a month ago.”

Spencer frowned.

“What's the matter?” Natasha queried.

“Under normal circumstances, the puncture wound from an injection should disappear after a few days.

Yet, this wound hasn't recovered after so long.” He stared at her. “If I'm not mistaken, the poison was

most likely injected into your body through this site.”