The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 248

"David, does your daughter know what you do for a living?"

David's pupils shrank to pinpricks, his entire body snapping taut like a fully drawn bowstring.

"What did you just say?"

"She's in medical school in the States, isn't she?" Garrison's voice hunted him down relentlessly. "Does she know her father's company artificially inflates drug prices to astronomical levels? Does she know how many innocent people her dad butchered just to monopolize the market? Does she have any idea her father is a mass murderer with his hands drenched in—"

"Shut up!"

David lunged forward, violently grabbing Garrison by the collar.

That perpetually composed, arrogant mask finally shattered. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips trembled, and his hands were shaking violently.

This was the exact moment!

Josh exploded upward from the ice, uncoiling like a lethal predator that had been waiting in the shadows for far too long.

A razor-sharp combat knife slipped from his sleeve into his palm, the blade catching a deadly glint of light in the headlamp's beam.

He cleared the six feet in a single bound. His left hand clamped onto the back of the guard holding Sloane's right side, violently jerking the man's head backward to expose his throat. With his right hand, Josh drove the knife viciously into the side of the man's neck.

Squelch!

The blade tore straight through the windpipe, slicing through the flesh like a hot knife through butter. A geyser of dark crimson erupted, spraying through the beam of light like a gruesome silk ribbon.

The guard didn't even have time to scream. His body immediately went limp, his grip sliding off Sloane's shoulder as he crumpled to the ice like a sack of dead weight.

The guard on her left finally processed the threat.

He shoved Sloane away, his hand frantically clawing for the gun at his hip—but Garrison was already there.

Garrison threw himself forward, his right hand locking around the scorching hot barrel of the guard's gun, violently twisting it away. The burning metal seared his palm, sizzling against his flesh, but he refused to let go.

Bang!

The gun discharged, the bullet screaming past Garrison's ear!

A sharp, burning sting flared on his earlobe—whether from the muzzle flash or the bullet grazing him, he didn't care. He still didn't let go.

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