My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 302

Chapter 302: 302/Scorching Sparks

Chapter 302

Julie’s POV

I stood rooted in my place for a succession of seconds that felt like a whole eternity, my eyes widened in genuine, paralyzing shock as I witnessed that towering, massive frame collapse utterly unconscious right before me onto the hard floor.

My racing, terrified breaths produced an audible rasp in the stagnant living room, and my heartbeat hammered with a feral, maddening violence inside my chest, as though desperate to break free from this suffocating psychic siege. I moved with trembling, slow, and hesitant strides toward the adjacent kitchen wall, extending my cold palm to snap the light switch, illuminating the space with a harsh, high glare.

The absolute darkness that had cloaked the corners of the perimeter vanished instantly, and I saw him lying with his full weight flat on his stomach over the wooden floorboards, wearing a thick black backpack heavily stuffed with items an object he apparently hadn’t found the time to discard.

I leaned down toward him with extreme caution and apprehension, grasping the edge of the dark hoodie with my trembling fingertips the fabric that completely concealed his features from me and slowly pushed it backward. The moment his pale face was exposed beneath the glare of the light, the blood completely froze in my veins.

His short, coarsely styled blonde hair emerged, alongside his sharp, prominent, and cruel features features I had seen and recognized exceptionally well before, and which had never once vacated my memory.

My eyes widened in a lethal, unbelievable bewilderment, and I automatically took a wide step backward, feeling my legs nearly failing to sustain my weight. Before I could utter a single coherent word, I let out a whispered, muffled scream that barely tore through my dry throat: "Jake!... Oh my God, is this actually Jake?!"

The man was entirely unconscious, detached from the world by the sheer impact of that punishing wooden chair blow, displaying not a single movement or sign indicating life save for the slow, heavy rise and fall of his broad chest.

What an absolute, sudden catastrophe! I leaned over him once more, sinking onto my knees over the floor near his head, and began slapping his cheeks lightly and gently with the tips of my fingers, hoping he would respond to my calling or open his eyelids: "Jake... wake up, please. Can you hear me? Open your goddamn eyes!" He didn’t awaken, nor did he display any notable motion or response.

My patience dissolved completely, and pure tension began devouring my nerves. I lifted my palm and struck him with a sharp, forceful, and punishing slap across his face a strike that produced a resounding echo and imprinted the crimson tracks of my five fingers against his pale skin.

At that exact second, Jake released a muffled, deep groan loaded with sheer pain, heavily parting his sharp blue eyes as though a thick haze cloaked them. He looked up at me with features blazing with unadulterated hostility, hatred, and a towering wrath as he gripped his jaw with his massive fingers, uttering a terrifying hiss: "You fucking whore!... What the fuck did you do to me?"

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