Larissa Judson and Haskell Palmer novel Chapter 342

At her words, Neville, who had already arrived, shot Gareth a cold glare before wrapping an arm around his wife and guiding her back into the car.

Nightveil toyed with the knife as she crouched down. “Since Paxton wants one of Sapphira’s fingers, we’ll have to take one of yours.”

Before Gareth could beg for mercy, her hand moved in a flash. With brutal force, she sliced off his ring finger. The pain was so intense that he nearly passed out.

Using a handkerchief, Nightveil expressionlessly picked up the severed finger, wrapped it, and then bound Gareth, hauling him off the ground and tossing him into the trunk of her car.

With that done, she turned to Neville and Sapphira. “Mr. and Mrs. Judson, I’d advise you to stay somewhere else for the night. You can return to the estate tomorrow morning.”

Neville, however, held Sapphira tightly. “I need to go back to the estate. I’ll leave my wife in your care for now.”

His eyes were glacial. He couldn’t believe his own brother, Paxton, would dare to lay a hand on his beloved wife. It was a line that should never have been crossed. This time, there would be no forgiveness.

Nightveil met his gaze and nodded. “Of course.”

Neville released his wife, his voice softening. “Sapphira, go get something to eat with Miss Nightveil and get some rest. I have to take care of something at the estate. I’ll come find you later.”

Sapphira frowned, her eyes filled with worry, but she nodded. “Alright.”

...

It was nearly midnight, but the lights in the west wing villa were still on. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Finley hesitated before nodding slowly. “I know.” He stood up, his steps heavy as he started toward the stairs.

He’d only taken a few steps when a loud crash echoed from outside, shaking the entire villa. The sound grew louder, more violent.

Finley stopped. “Dad, I’m going to see what’s happening.”

He rushed back down and threw open the door, only to find the front yard swarming with a dozen bodyguards. Some were smashing the iron gate with sledgehammers, while others were cutting through the bars with power saws.

Paxton frowned, no longer able to ignore the commotion, and descended the stairs. Vivica hurried back to her room to grab a robe before following him.

Just as they reached the front door, the iron gate crashed to the ground with a deafening roar. The bodyguards parted, and Neville strode through the opening. His face was a mask of glacial fury, utterly devoid of warmth in the cool night air.