PREVIEW
... ian Fordham caught the incoming golf club aimed directly at him.
His hand, still untreated, had its wounds split open, and stark, red blood gushed out, slowly dripping down his sleeve, staining the silver cufflinks.
Yet, he didn’t care, his gaze cold and domineering as he said, "Even if I did something wrong, it’s not your place to resort to violence."
An invisible tension hung between them, as if a fight could erupt at any moment.
Assistant Prescott also spoke up ...
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