Everyone in the private room flinched at the sudden voice. Trevon turned his head, seeing a tall, imposing figure standing at the door, his aura suffocating. Trevon frowned, his grip on the knife loosening as it clattered to the ground.
Callie slowly turned her gaze, blood dripping from her face. In the darkness, Nelson’s face gradually became clear-heavy, angry, and repressed. His eyes were locked onto one direction. There, Callie was kneeling, as if she was in the depths of hell. It was a sight that tore at his very soul. She seemed more despaired than when her work was stolen.
“Nelson?” Trevon called out incredulously, completely stunned to see him here.
Nelson stood there, cold and indifferent. He didn’t bring anyone with him, but that only made him seem even crazier. Rolling up his sleeves, he strode forward with long steps. Before Trevon could react, Nelson had him pinned to the ground, punching him repeatedly until blood spurted from his nose.
Despite weighing over two hundred pounds, Trevon was no match for Nelson’s ruthless assault. His neck veins bulged as he delivered each blow with deadly precision.
Trevon’s men, seeing him wailing in pain, hesitated to intervene. The sudden and terrifying command from Nelson stopped them in their tracks: “Just try and move!”
Though young, his authority was unquestionable, instilling deep fear.
Trevon, clutching his eyes and nose, shouted, “Don’t move!”
After enough punches, Nelson’s face was maniacal. He picked up the knife from the ground and asked Callie, “Which hand did he use to hurt you?”
Callie, barely holding onto her sanity, shivered even more at the sight of Nelson’s fury. “R-right hand.”
Nelson then forcibly pinned Trevon’s right hand to the ground, and with a swift motion, the knife came down. Blood splattered onto Joaquin’s face, hot and sticky. Joaquin, terrified, fainted on the spot.
Trevon’s screams nearly shook the whole building.
Nelson’s actions were swift and clean. He wiped his hands with a tissue before bending down to scoop Callie into his arms, stepping over the incapacitated Trevon and striding out of the room.
Bridger had been listening outside for a while. Seeing them emerge, he was frantic. “Just a minor punishment would have sufficed! You’ve caused me big trouble!”
Nelson’s face was dark. “Clear the way.”
Bridger quickly followed, saying, “I’ve taken care of this floor and the underground parking. Leave in my car. Here’s the key. I’ll handle the top floor.”
His gaze then fell on the barely conscious Callie, causing him another shock. No wonder Nelson had gone berserk.
Callie was in severe pain, her consciousness fading. Her last act was to clutch Nelson’s arm, “Joaquin…”
“Bridger will handle it,” Nelson’s voice was ice-cold.
Nelson moved quickly, placing Callie in the car, fastening her seatbelt, and immediately starting the engine. Bridger leaned in through the window. “Need the surveillance footage wiped?”
“No need. He wouldn’t dare.” Nelson’s tone was certain.
Callie was taken to a private hospital, where the doctors were stunned. “This… this…”
Nelson didn’t give a direct answer, his voice low but commanding, “I only have one request. Her face must be unharmed!”
Callie lay on the bed as the doctors wheeled her away. She tried to open her eyes, tears lingering, glittering.
She saw him, covered in blood, collar open, looking rugged yet irresistibly sexy. Their eyes locked, filled with obsession.
The knife wound wasn’t deep, and the bandaging was quick. The doctors found no other injuries on Callie and soon wheeled her back out.