Chapter 284
Chapter 284:
Before the fat man could even blink, Crawford’s large hand shot out and seized him by the knot of his silk tie. He yanked Gallagher violently from his chair, and with a sickening pivot of his hips, drove a devastating right hook directly into the man’s jaw.
Crack.
The sound of bone shattering echoed through the room like a gunshot.
Gallagher’s eyes rolled back into his head. He flew backward and crashed to the floor in a heap, blood and two white teeth exploding from his mouth onto the expensive carpet.
The other board members screamed and scrambled back against the wall.
Crawford did not stop. He stepped forward, raised his right leg, and brought his custom-made five-thousand-dollar leather oxford down with terrifying, merciless force directly onto Gallagher’s bleeding face. He pressed his full body weight down, grinding the sole of his shoe into the man’s cheek and pinning his head to the floor.
“Swallow your filthy words,” Crawford commanded. His voice was not loud. It was a freezing, demonic whisper that made the blood run cold in every vein in the room. “Apologize to her. Now p>
Gallagher sobbed hysterically, blood bubbling from his lips, utterly broken by the sudden and extreme violence.
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Cole stood frozen on the other side of the table. He watched Crawford defend June, and the jealousy burning in his chest was almost as agonizing as the burns on his back. His vision began to blur. The pain was becoming critical.
He looked at Crawford, his eyes filled with absolute, murderous hatred. Then he turned and stumbled out of the VIP room, heading for the private restroom attached to the suite. He needed to strip the burning clothes from his skin.
But he was not finished.
Crawford’s violence was over. The room fell into a dead silence, broken only by the quiet, wet sound of Gallagher choking on his own blood. Cole’s massive hands flexed and unflexed at his sides, his eyes devoid of any human light as his gaze drifted past the carnage and locked onto the private bar. He cracked his knuckles — the sound, louder than the bone that had just broken, promised a different and far more unhinged kind of destruction.
Inside the private restroom, Cole ripped the ruined coat from his shoulders, letting out a muffled, agonizing groan as the fabric peeled away a layer of blistered skin. He splashed cold water on his face, chest heaving, and stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were completely dead, stripped of any human mercy.
He walked back out into the VIP room.
Crawford was still standing over Gallagher, his shoe resting lightly on the man’s bleeding cheek.
Cole moved slowly to the head of the table, his white shirt soaked through with blood and yellow plasma, the ruined fabric clinging to his massive back.
“Step away from him, Love,” Cole said. His voice was completely flat — a terrifying monotone that promised absolute destruction. “He is my guest. I will handle his discipline p>
Crawford looked at Cole and saw the sheer, unhinged madness radiating from the other man. He slowly removed his foot and took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted to see exactly how far the tyrant would go.