Crash!
The heavy-set Bruiser let out a pained groan, crashing to the side like a flipped turtle.
He thrashed wildly, struggling to move, and had to grab the leg of the sofa just to hoist himself up.
If it weren't for the thick layer of fat absorbing the blow, he would have been rolling on the floor in agony.
Trembling, he looked into the man's pitch-black eyes and saw nothing but pure, unadulterated murder.
He wanted to yell for his thugs outside to take down this terrifying intruder, but no one came. The only sight through the open door was a pile of his men knocked out on the floor.
Tristan stood nearby, the stun gun in his hand crackling with electricity. He stared at Bruiser like he was a bug waiting to be squashed.
He was just waiting for a single word from his boss to break all of Bruiser's limbs.
Bruiser's eyes went wide, and he swallowed hard.
He finally realized this was not a man he could mess with. Raw panic seized his chest.
"Who... who the hell are you people?"
Miles ignored him completely. Stepping over to the sofa, he looked down at Quinn curled into a ball. The furious storm in his eyes darkened, mingled with obvious disdain.
He shucked off his suit jacket and threw it over her, mocking her mercilessly. "Aren't you supposed to be so capable, Quinn?"
"Is this your brilliant plan?"
Quinn had retained a sliver of consciousness earlier, but now everything was a blur. She couldn't understand a word he was saying, convinced he was just another attacker.
Operating purely on instinct, she whimpered, "Don't... come any closer."
"Don't... touch me..."
"Get... out!"
Seeing her completely delirious, Miles's frown deepened. He reached out to pull her up.
But her body was completely limp, consumed by the burning heat coursing through her. Unable to stand, she collapsed helplessly against him.
"Stand up straight!"
Miles tried to steady her, but she acted like a dying fish that had just found water.

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