Chapter 175
Thomas’s Point of View (Robert’s Father)
Morgan and I sprang from our seats instantly, rushing with frantic strides toward the source of the sound, which was growing louder and more piercing: "Let me go, you bastard! Help me!" The green-eyed waitress’s voice was saturated with terror. I ran toward the door where the screams erupted; I twisted the handle with force, but it was locked from the inside.
I slammed my shoulder against it with every ounce of strength I possessed until it burst open violently.
Morgan and I stormed in, and the blood froze in my veins. She was sprawled on the sofa, struggling to resist, while that piece of filth hovered over her, trying to break her will.
I drew my weapon swiftly, but before I could even take aim, Morgan’s bullet beat everyone to the mark, lodging itself in the man’s head. He slumped to the floor, a lifeless corpse. I couldn’t restrain the boiling rage in my blood; I emptied my entire magazine into his body as it lay on the ground.
I turned toward her. She was still on the sofa in a state of paralyzed shock, her shirt torn provocatively, exposing her bra. I shed my blazer quickly and tried to cover her, but she jolted and recoiled from me, trembling. "Don’t kill me!" she pleaded in a desperate whisper.
I stepped closer with measured strides, my voice reaching for a reassuring tone. "Don’t be afraid... we aren’t going to kill you."
Morgan walked toward her and gently took her hand. "We won’t hurt you. We just saved you."
She snatched her hand back from him with lightning speed, tears beginning to carve paths down her cheeks. "He... he tried to assault me," she stammered. A surge of fury consumed me; at that moment, I wished my gun held an infinite number of bullets just so I could empty them into him all over again.
"What will happen now when the police come?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"Don’t worry about that," I told her firmly. I pulled out my phone and immediately called one of my men, ordering him to come and clean the scene and hide the body.
"What is your name?" Morgan asked, scanning her features.
"I... I’m... Violet," she answered, stuttering as she tried to pull herself together.
"A beautiful name," Morgan replied with a calm smile. "Now, we’re going to take you home."
"There’s no need," she said quickly. "I’ll go by myself."
"Absolutely not," I countered. "Look at yourself. How can you go out like this, at this late hour?"
"Do you live alone, Violet?" Morgan questioned.
"With my family," she whispered.
Suddenly, a phone began to ring on the floor. "My phone!" she gasped in panic. I picked it up and read the name on the screen: ’Mom.’ I handed it to her, and she took it with trembling hands, looking at us in despair. "I can’t answer... I can’t talk to her without her getting suspicious."
"Send her a message," Morgan suggested.
She nodded and began typing with fingers that were shaking violently, then she let out a muffled sob. "How will I go home now? Mom will know... no matter how hard I try to hide it, she’ll know."
"We’ll take you to a hotel," I said, trying to find a solution. "We’ll buy you new clothes, and tomorrow, after you’ve rested, you can go home."
"Impossible!" she replied in fear. "My mother will die of worry... I’ve only slept away from home a few times when I was at university."
"That means you’ll have to tell her you went to the university for an urgent reason," Morgan said.
She gripped her phone and typed again, then looked at us with gratitude. "Thank you for saving me."
"Don’t mention it," I said. "Now, come on, let’s get out of here." She stood up, glancing at the man’s body with a mixture of contempt and fear, then walked with stumbling steps.
She nearly fell, but I rushed to catch her. I tightened my grip on her shoulders, steadying her as we walked out of the restaurant.
I put her in the front seat beside me.

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