Chapter 1036:
Each syllable slithered into Finlay, sending violent shudders of terror racing down his spine. The man standing before him was nothing short of evil incarnate!
“NO! Please… Just kill me! Kill me…”.
Finlay wailed in terror, trembling so fiercely that he had wet himself, his lips spilling desperate pleas without pause. “Spare me! Spare me! I know I was wrong, I truly know I was wrong! I deserve to die for touching her. Just kill me. Kill me!”
Death itself terrified Finlay less than the thought of being flayed alive, piece by agonizing piece. It was no wonder people quaked at the mere sight of this man; he was nothing less than a demon in human form!
Never in his life had Finlay prayed for death with such urgency as he did now. The more vividly he pictured what awaited him, the deeper his terror sank. Someone drew near, a dagger gleaming in hand. Finlay’s eyes widened helplessly as a strip of his own flesh was carved away from his arm.
Finlay screamed, his cry raw and piercing, drenched in agony and despair.
Terrence cut Finlay a single cold, contemptuous glance, then struck a match and lit a cigar, exhaling lazy smoke rings as he strode away without once turning back.
Behind him, Finlay’s shrieks of pain and frantic begging rang out, echoing like a curse, and then slowly dwindled into the distance. At last, they faded into silence.
Terrence’s tall frame sank into the back seat of a Rolls-Royce Cullinan, the engine roaring to life before the car slid away. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone scheming against his woman. Never!
Terrence’s blue eyes glimmered with the chill of an icy lake, his presence steeped in a lethal aura that clung to him like a second skin. The image of Christina, risking everything for Dylan, flashed like fire in his mind, and his fists coiled tightly. The air thickened with menace, danger radiating outward as an unrestrained wave of killing intent erupted from him.
The following day, news of the Perez Group’s bankruptcy exploded across headlines, and Finlay, the man at its helm, had vanished without a trace. Speculation churned endlessly online, yet few dared imagine he might already be dead.
When Christina came across the news, her brows furrowed slightly in unease. Her mind instantly conjured Terrence’s dangerously captivating face, those piercing blue eyes able to ensnare anyone—both magnetic and perilous.
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Deep down, she felt almost certain that this had Terrence’s hand written all over it. Dylan was in no state to orchestrate anything like this; he was still affected by his memory loss.
She had meant to confront the one plotting her death herself, but never had she expected Terrence to strike with such swiftness.
The Perez family held some renown in Lorbridge, yet they were never counted among the city’s deeply rooted, old-money dynasties. Their overnight collapse raised no eyebrows; most assumed they had angered the wrong person. From this moment forward, Finlay’s Perez Group vanished completely from Lorbridge’s map.
“What are you thinking about, Chrissie?”.
Dylan murmured, sneaking a glance at her unlocked phone. His sharp eyes caught the article about the Perez Group, and he quietly exhaled a breath of relief. He had worried Brendon had reached out to her, causing her distraction.
.
.
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