Rhys Lennox wore a black coat, his figure sharp like a drawn sword. Beneath his thin black hair, his eyes were as razor-sharp as a blade, and his gaze surged with almost tangible violence and killing intent!
He didn’t even look at Stella Sterling, his target was clear as he directly kicked the back of another thug’s knee!
"Crack!" The sound of bone breaking was clearly audible!
"Ah—!" The thug howled like a pig being slaughtered, clutching his twisted leg and rolling on the ground.
Owen Callahan finally reacted, scared out of his wits, and turned to run!
Would Rhys Lennox give him the chance?
He took a long stride, quickly caught up, and grabbed Owen Callahan by the back of his collar, forcefully flinging him backward!
Owen Callahan was thrown to the cold, muddy ground like a ragdoll, mud splattering.
He looked up in terror, eting Rhys Lennox’s deep black eyes.
"Rhys...Rhys Lennox...you, how did you..." Owen Callahan babbled incoherently, scrambling backward on all fours.
Rhys Lennox didn’t waste words, he leaned down, gripping Owen Callahan’s hair with iron-like hands, forcing his head up, and with his other fist, wrapped in airborne sound, he smashed it into his face!
"Bang!"
The sound of a broken nose mixed with Owen Callahan’s screams, blood splattering instantly, staining Rhys Lennox’s knuckles and the dirty snow on the ground.
"Dare to touch her?" Rhys Lennox’s voice was hoarse, like it ca from hell, every word dripping with ice shards, "I think you’re tired of living!"
Another punch landed on Owen Callahan’s eye socket, the eyeball instantly swelling with blood, terrifyingly grueso.
"The photos?" Rhys Lennox grabbed his hair, lifting him a bit, glaring into his dilated pupils, "Hm? Where are the photos?"
Owen Callahan, beaten into a daze, his mouth full of blood, muttered, "The photos... the photos aren’t with ..."
Rhys Lennox’s eyes flashed fiercely, just about to ask more.
"Rhys Lennox!"
Stella Sterling finally snapped out of the sudden change, shouting anxiously.
Her entire plan was disrupted!
Rhys Lennox paused, his fist hanging in the air.
He suddenly turned his head, looking at Stella Sterling.
Those always rebellious eyes now swirled with too many complicated emotions—residual violence, lingering fear, and sothing deeper, almost surfacing.
He released the nearly unconscious Owen Callahan, walking over to Stella Sterling in a few steps.
He was much taller than her, and standing in front of her now, exuding a lingering bloody scent and piercing chill, he was like an impenetrable wall.
"Are you okay?" His voice was raspier, urgently scanning her, wanting to touch her but not daring to, his fingers curling, knuckles still stained with Owen Callahan’s blood.
"I’m fine." She shook her head, trying to maintain a calm tone, "You shouldn’t have co."
Rhys Lennox frowned, his tone filled with agitated anger, "I shouldn’t have co? Should I just watch you get bullied by this trash? Stella, do you have a brain? You dare co to a place like this alone?!"
He was panting, his chest heaving violently, as if infuriated or perhaps frightened by the earlier dangerous scene.
"You believed him because he said he had photos? Those photos are fake! I had them checked, and they were all generated using special techniques! My brother...," Rhys Lennox paused here, "Shane Donovan would never do such a thing!"
He looked into her eyes, stressing each word, as if persuading himself, "He may be a bastard, but to you...he couldn’t possibly..."
Before he finished speaking—
"Who are you calling a brat?"
A low, cold voice, tinged with a barely perceptible resignation, ca from the alleyway entrance.
Everyone looked in the direction of the voice.
Shane Donovan stood there at so point.
He wore a tailored black coat, his figure tall, snowflakes falling on his shoulders.
Behind him were several bodyguards in black suits, instantly blocking the narrow alleyway entrance.
Shane Donovan’s gaze swiftly scanned Stella Sterling, confirming she was unhard, the tension in his deep eyes montarily relaxing.
Then, his gaze landed on the disheveled Rhys Lennox and the thugs on the ground like dogs.
Finally, he looked at Rhys Lennox, raising an eyebrow slightly, his lips curling in a nearly sardonic smile, almost biting each word through gritted teeth:
"I appreciate your help."
The resignation and frustration from a disrupted plan were almost palpable.
Rhys Lennox: "..."
At this point, even if he was slow, he understood...
A trap within a trap.
He had ruined their plan...
Rhys Lennox pursed his lips, stubbornly, "Who are you thanking! If I didn’t co, this fool would have been eaten alive with nothing left!"
He was referring to Stella Sterling.
Stella Sterling: "..."
Shane Donovan ignored Rhys Lennox’s stubbornness, stepping forward, his gaze sweeping over the muddy Owen Callahan and the quivering thugs, his eyes instantly turning cold.
His n silently dispersed, swiftly taking control of the scene.
Shane Donovan walked up to Stella Sterling, looking down at her, his fingers gently brushing aside a strand of hair blown by the wind, the movent tender, starkly contrasting with the icy aura around him.
"Were you scared?" He asked softly, his voice carrying a barely detectable rasp.
Stella Sterling shook her head, looking up to et his gaze, her eyes clear, showing no trace of fear: "I was waiting for you to close the net."
Shane Donovan was slightly taken aback, then understanding, a faint smile and admiration flickering in his eyes.
His little girl was smarter and bolder than he thought.
On the ground, Owen Callahan watching this scene, only then realized he was finished.
He seed to have all his bones pulled out, collapsing on the ground, tears and snot flowing: "President Donovan... President Donovan, I was wrong! It was... it was Philip Donovan! Philip Donovan made do it! The photos were synthesized by people he hired! It was his idea! He said once you’re ruined, and he had sothing on Stella, he could rise again... He promised to share the Donovan family’s assets with once it was done..."
He spoke incoherently, completely selling out Philip Donovan.
Rhys Lennox suddenly looked at Shane Donovan, his gaze complex.
Shane Donovan’s face remained expressionless, looking down at Owen Callahan as if he were an ant.
"And what else?" He asked, voice calm yet carrying invisible pressure, "Was my father-in-law’s fall related to you or Philip Donovan?"
"No! Really not!" Owen Callahan shook his head vigorously, "Uncle Sterling’s fall was an accident! An accident! Philip Donovan just took advantage of the opportunity! He had use the photos to provoke you... He said... he said once you internal fight, he’d have a chance..."
Shane Donovan listened quietly, his gaze deep and unreadable.
"Accident?" He repeated the word, his thin lips curling into a frigid arc, "Do you think I’d believe that?"
He bent down, picking up Owen Callahan’s phone from the ground.
The screen was cracked, but still usable.
Shane Donovan’s fingers moved rapidly across the screen, Owen Callahan trying to stop him but was pinned down tightly by the bodyguards.
"No... you can’t..."
Reviews
All reviews (0)