Chapter 285
Chapter 285:
Cole looked down at the sobbing, bleeding mass on the floor.
“You think my wife provides good service, Gallagher?” Cole whispered, his voice echoing through the silent room.
He snapped his fingers. The heavy mahogany door swung open, and two of Cole’s massive, heavily armed private security guards stepped inside.
“Pick him up,” Cole ordered.
𝘑𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘯
The guards seized Gallagher by his armpits and hauled him violently upright, slamming him down into a heavy wooden chair.
Cole walked to the private bar in the corner of the room and retrieved two unopened bottles of cask-strength Macallan whiskey — extraordinarily expensive, the alcohol content well above sixty percent. He carried them back and stood directly in front of Gallagher.
“Open his mouth,” Cole commanded.
One guard grabbed Gallagher by the hair, yanking his head back, while the other violently squeezed his jaw, forcing his mouth wide open.
Cole unscrewed the cap from the first bottle. “Make sure he drinks every single drop,” he said, his eyes completely dead.
He tipped the bottle up and shoved the glass neck directly into Gallagher’s mouth. Pure, burning alcohol flooded down the man’s throat.
Gallagher thrashed wildly, his eyes bulging. He choked, coughed, and gagged, but the guards held him in an iron grip as the liquid poured into his stomach like fire.
June stood by the door, both hands pressed over her mouth in absolute horror. The sheer, barbaric cruelty of the punishment made her stomach turn. She took a step forward to stop it, but Crawford reached out and caught her arm, holding her back.
“Do not interfere,” Crawford murmured close to her ear. “This is his execution p>
The first bottle ran dry. Cole cracked open the second without hesitation and shoved it into Gallagher’s mouth.
Halfway through, Gallagher’s body convulsed violently. His stomach could not withstand the sudden, massive influx of near-pure poison. He lurched forward, tearing free of the guards’ grip, and vomited a horrifying torrent of bright red blood across the table.
Acute stomach bleeding.
Gallagher collapsed to the floor, completely unconscious, his body twitching in a spreading pool of his own blood.
Cole stared down at him with freezing, absolute disgust. He released the empty whiskey bottle. It hit the floor and shattered.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed 911.
“I need an ambulance at The Mariner’s Pearl VIP room,” Cole said, his voice calm and utterly devoid of emotion. “A man drank too much and has internal bleeding p>
He hung up. Then, slowly, he turned his head and fixed his terrifying, bloodshot eyes directly on Crawford.
The punishment was over.
The real war was about to begin.
The distant wail of ambulance sirens pierced the heavy silence of the VIP room. Paramedics rushed in with a stretcher, loaded Gallagher’s bleeding, unconscious body onto it, and sprinted back out.
Cole looked at the four remaining board members huddled in terror against the corner.
“Get out,” Cole commanded, his voice a low, vibrating growl. “The meeting is over p>