Why the Crocodile Tears (by Flower Sock) novel Chapter 282

Chapter 282

Right at that moment, Anathea’s voice cut through the chaos. “Stop!”

She walked forward while holding her phone, her voice clear and firm. “I’ve already called the police and recorded everything that just happened. If you don’t want to get arrested, you’d better stop right now!”

Samantha and Damien turned to look at Anathea, their eyes full of surprise and gratitude. They hadn’t expected Anathea to pull something like this.

Hannah met Anathea’s gaze and gave a subtle nod.

Anathea had started recording the video from the very first moment Hannah slammed the table and stood up, though she’d stopped the recording just before Hannah kneed Ezekiel.

Even though the surveillance camera had been smashed, Anathea’s phone held real evidence of the thugs‘ criminal assault and provocation. Once the nearby police arrived, these troublemakers could be brought to justice.

However, barely two or three seconds after Anathea finished speaking, those men burst into derisive laughter.

“Call the police? Arrest us? Lady, you must be joking.”

Another man in a white tank top stepped forward, twirling a baton in his hand. “Do you know how close we are with the local police? Are you sure the police you called are actually coming to help you?”

Anathea froze for a moment, her expression shifting in an instant.

No wonder they’d dared to go this far, trashing a restaurant as if they were above the laws–it turned out they were. They’d had connections with the police all along.

“Why are you wasting your words on her?” Ezekiel shouted.

“I’ll make sure they’re completely helpless. They can beg for help all they want, but no one’s coming to save them—”

Before he could finish, Hannah had already grabbed the rolling pin off the counter and smashed it at him.

While Ezekiel staggered, seeing stars, the others rushed to help him. But Damien and Samantha had grabbed pot lids and whacked them right back.

The scene instantly devolved into chaos.

Taking advantage of the commotion, the man in the white tank top–Callan Hoover–made his way over to Anathea.

He grabbed her wrist and leered. “You’re just as screwed, you know. We’re all going down together.”

Anathea felt a wave of revulsion crawl over her skin. She shoved at him with all her strength. “Let go!”

“Aw, what’s the matter? You think you’re too delicate to be touched? That makes me want to touch you more!”

Callan yanked at her, trying to pull her closer, only for Anathea to seize his hand and sink her teeth in, hard. She bit him with full force, as though she wanted to tear his flesh off.

“Fuck!” Callan roared, grabbing her hair. “Let go!”

Anathea didn’t budge. If anything, she bit harder.

“You bitch! You’re asking for it!” Callan shouted, raising his free hand to slap her.

Suddenly, a cold voice sounded. “That’s enough.”

11

Callan’s hand was caught and locked in place, and in just a second, his entire body was pinned down. He was subdued.

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