The moment he realized who he’d messed with, York broke out in a cold sweat.
“Mr. Lancaster, Mr. Lancaster, please! Spare me! I didn't know she was with you—”
Harrison pressed down harder with his foot.
York’s words choked in his throat.
The icy mask on Harrison's face vanished the moment he turned to Ana. He gently kissed her forehead and murmured, "Go wait in the car, sweetheart. I'll be right there."
Anastasia glanced at York under his foot, then calmly looked away and nodded. "Okay."
If Harrison didn't want to scare her, she wouldn't watch.
She obediently went to the car. Just as a bodyguard closed the door, she heard York scream and instinctively glanced back.
York, who had been so arrogant moments before, was now like a beaten dog, kicked so hard by Harrison that he couldn't even get up.
With his back to her, Harrison looked as cold and ruthless as a demon straight from hell.
The bodyguard, worried she might be frightened, was about to ask the driver to raise the window when he heard her say, "He's so hot!"
He turned to see Anastasia cupping her face, looking completely smitten.
Logan came over and clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it."
Anastasia waited in the car for fifteen minutes.
When Harrison returned, he had taken off his suit jacket and was carrying it over his arm. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and a slightly damp lock of hair fell across his brow.
His expression was impassive, betraying no emotion, but a faint scent of blood clung to him.
He walked with a casual gait that radiated danger, the remnants of violence still lingering in his eyes.
It was clear that even with York on the verge of death, the furious fire in Harrison's heart hadn't been fully extinguished.


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