CHAPTER 35: CHAPTER 35: A CRITICAL MOMENT—HE ARRIVES!

In the hotel suite, the heavy odor of smoke mingled with the pungent smell of alcohol.

Frederick Fletcher sat cross-legged on the sofa, a cigarette between his fingers, the crimson ember flickering in and out.

A haphazardly applied band-aid was stuck on the back of his hand. The edges weren’t adhered properly, revealing from the lifted corner a fresh bite mark, still oozing beads of blood.

He had unbuttoned his shirt down to his chest, his pants belt missing, with the waistband loosely hanging around his hips.

The crimson tip reached its end, and he casually flicked it onto the carpet, leaving a small charred black spot where the spark landed.

Frederick Fletcher squinted slightly, his gaze falling on the large bed directly opposite him.

Holly Crowe was bound with belts at the wrists, her eyes covered with a black cloth, breathing rapid and uneven. Under the lights, her skin showed an abnormal flush, and at the foot of the bed, an empty syringe reflected a cold light.

Frederick Fletcher licked his lips, his throat tightening.

From the first moment he saw Holly Crowe, Frederick Fletcher had been anticipating this day.

Despite wearing the most conservative black professional attire, the chill in her eyes always tugged at his heart.

The allure beneath the ascetic exterior was far stronger than those who threw themselves at him.

Unfortunately, at that time, she chose to cooperate with the Vance Group, causing him to miss his chance.

It left him itching for quite some time, but didn’t she just deliver herself again...

Frederick Fletcher clenched his molars, removed his shirt and trousers, and advanced step by step towards the bed.

The carpet was thick, and his footsteps were almost silent, yet Holly Crowe still felt a nauseating aura gradually approaching, causing her to shiver.

The belt bound to her wrists tightened painfully, the skin already chafed and broken, but the pain couldn’t suppress the swelling heat within her body.

She knew all too clearly that her rationality was being eroded, relying only on the taste of blood from biting her tongue to barely maintain a shred of consciousness.

The mattress sank at a spot, and a pair of smoke-scented hands gradually approached, then suddenly tore off the black band over her eyes.

The sudden light caused Holly Crowe’s pupils to constrict suddenly, everything in her vision shaking until it finally focused on Frederick Fletcher’s greedy face.

"Miss Crowe, have you calmed down now?" His fingers maliciously stroked her cheek.

Frederick Fletcher clutched her chin with one hand, lifting it forcefully, "Do you still remember me?"

Holly Crowe’s eyes were dazed, her body burning fiercely, yet she still struggled, her tongue already bitten to bleeding, the taste of blood filling her mouth.

"..Don’t touch...me." Her voice was weak, yet carried a hint of stubbornness.

Frederick Fletcher laughed, "Still got quite a temper, enduring so long after an injection?"

He clicked his tongue twice, fastening the belt on her wrist by two more notches. As the metal buckle clicked into place, Holly Crowe let out a muffled groan, her eyes instantly turning red as tears of pain streamed down uncontrollably.

The grip on her chin tightened a little, "But I like stubborn ones, they’re much more satisfying to tame."

As he spoke, his hand already moved down to the zipper on her dress.

But in an instant, the room’s lights went out.

Almost simultaneously, the room door was kicked open with great force, the door slamming into the wall with a violent sound as several dark shadows quickly rushed in.

Before he could react, he was grabbed by the neck by an unknown force and thrown into the corner behind the door, his back hitting the wall, the impact turning his vision black from pain.

"Damn it, who are you people?"

He clutched his aching back, cursing, trying to stand up.

"Who are you! Who let you in? Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is? You dare touch me? I..."

Before he could finish his sentence, his head was slammed harshly onto the floor, his face hitting the ground with a full mouth of blood "Ugh...ugh..mm..."

He could only make vague sounds, his remaining words turning into confused whimpers.

In the darkness, a tall figure looked down at him from above. Although the person made no sound or unnecessary movements, Frederick Fletcher still sensed the chilling aura around him.

Terrifying!

"Click."

The lights flickered back on.

Frederick Fletcher’s eye, already swollen from the earlier fall, was further pained by the sudden light.

When he managed to open them again, he was met with the icy coldness in Blake Sinclair’s eyes.

His voice trembled: "Blake...Blake Sinclair.. why are you here!"

He had never seen Blake Sinclair like this, the black shirt rolled up to the forearms, revealing his tough wrists.

He lowered his eyes as if looking at a dead man. When his gaze swept over Frederick’s bare lower half, only clad in underwear, a fierce intent surged in his eyes.

His long leg kicked, the toe of his shoe prodding Frederick Fletcher’s face, almost piercing his eyeball by mere millimeters.

"Ah!"

Just as Frederick screamed, Blake Sinclair’s foot stomped down, the sole grinding across his face as though to crush his bones.

"Help..wait. Let go..me.." He tried to struggle, but both his legs and arms were firmly held down, immobilized.

Blake Sinclair’s anger surged higher, his foot’s pressure increasing, causing the face beneath it to twist and distort.

"Second Master, save her first." Shane Yates rushed in hastily, realizing the situation was going awry and quickly intervened.

He was truly afraid that Second Master Sinclair might lose control and accidentally kill the man.

Blake Sinclair paused his foot’s pressure, the red in his eyes receding a little. He ground his foot for a final time before withdrawing and turning towards the inner bed.

Frederick Fletcher lay limp on the floor, his face blurred with blood to the point of being unrecognizable, resembling nothing more than a dying dog.

Blake Sinclair had already strode to the bedside, his heart pounding wildly with every step, not even realizing how much his hands were trembling.

Seeing the person on the bed, his pupils constricted suddenly.

Holly Crowe lay with hair disheveled on the bed, her dress slipping off her shoulder, revealing skin flushed in an abnormal red. Her dazed eyes now filled with tears, trickling down to the sheets.

Seeing the belts bound on her wrists intensified the shadows in Blake Sinclair’s eyes.

Shane Yates followed behind him into the room, and upon seeing this scene, quickly turned his head away with closed eyes.

Blake Sinclair approached the bedside step by step, gently calling her name.

"Holly."

"Ugh..no...go away..."

Merely touching her hand, Holly Crowe began to struggle.

Every word was like a knife stabbing into Blake Sinclair’s heart.

He could only control her with one hand, using the other to unravel the belts on her hands.

The belts had been wrapped tightly in several loops, leaving deep red marks on Holly’s wrists.

With each loop undone, witnessing the deeper marks underneath made his hands tremble even more.

It was apparent Holly Crowe’s mind was no longer clear, but her body instinctively resisted.

"Ugh...no...go away.."

Her tears flowed even more fiercely, and upon releasing her hands, she swung them wildly, hitting Blake’s hands repeatedly.

The blows lacked force, yet pained him so much it caused his breath to catch, his heart seized painfully.

Blake Sinclair swiftly grabbed a nearby blanket, wrapping her struggling body, then carefully bending down to lift her horizontally in his arms.

"Don’t be afraid, I’m here."

He leaned down close to her ear, his voice as gentle as a whisper.

Holly Crowe was restless in his embrace, writhing as though attempting to break free, fists pounding against his chest. He gritted his teeth against several of her blows while carrying her out.

Yet just as he reached the foot of the bed, catching sight of the syringe at the bedside, he halted.

All the blood in his veins froze at that moment, his grip nearly faltering.

His voice grew cold as ice as he cast a glance at Frederick Fletcher cowering in the doorway, enunciating each word, "What did you inject her with!"