Clara winced as her back ached from the impact, but she quickly pulled herself together. "I just got a bit turned around," she said, trying to sound casual.
Jackson immediately shot back, "You weren't just lost. You looked like you were sneaking around on purpose, trying to eavesdrop. Clara, I've told you before, if you see me, keep your distance, or I can't promise I won't lose my cool."
To emphasize his point, he brandished a gun and loaded a bullet with unsettling speed. A shiver ran down Clara's spine. Jackson was clearly off his rocker, bringing a gun to a place like this. Instinctively, she ducked behind the sofa where Dylan was sitting.
Dylan, with his fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey, said calmly, "Jackson, put the gun down."
Jackson grimaced, grumbling as he set the gun aside, but his tone was still harsh. "Clara, get out."
Clara wasn't clueless; it was clear both Richard and Jackson couldn't stand her. But Richard wasn't as extreme as Jackson, who seemed ready to escalate things. What had she done to deserve such hostility?
Logically, Dylan should despise her too. So, why did he step in to stop Jackson? Her mind raced, and she quickly figured it might be thanks to Simon's influence. Swallowing hard, she said, "I'll head out right away."
Just as she was about to leave, Dylan spoke up again, "The guys outside are looking for you."
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