Chapter 199

Chapter 199:

Anson slid to his knees beside Eliza and pulled her upright. “Eliza! Look at me!” He shook her gently.

Eliza’s head lolled. Her eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide. “Dallas?” she mumbled, her hand reaching out, grasping at the air.

Anson flinched. Even drugged, even bleeding, she called for him.

Dante roared. He pulled a knife from his boot — a serrated blade that glinted in the dim light — and slashed upward.

Dallas dodged, but not fast enough. The blade sliced through his suit sleeve, and a line of red bloomed instantly on his forearm.

𝖡𝘦 𝗍𝗁е fі𝗋𝘀𝘵 𝘵o r𝗲a𝗱 on

“Dallas!” Eliza screamed, the sound weak and terrified.

Dallas didn’t even glance at the wound. He seized Dante’s wrist with both hands and twisted.

SNAP.

The sound of the breaking wrist was loud and sickeningly wet. The knife clattered to the floor. Dante screamed — a high-pitched wail of pure agony.

Dallas didn’t stop. He mounted Dante, pinning him to the floor, and began to rain punches down on his face. One. Two. Three. His knuckles were raw, his expression a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He wasn’t fighting anymore. He was executing.

“Dallas! Stop! You’ll kill him!” Anson shouted. “You’ll go to jail p>

Dallas froze, his fist raised for another blow. His chest heaved. He looked down at Dante’s ruined face — the man was unconscious, bubbling blood — then looked over at Eliza, huddled and trembling in Anson’s arms.

He stood up and straightened his torn jacket, ignoring the blood dripping from his arm. Then he walked over to Anson.

“Give her to me p>

Anson tightened his grip. “She’s hurt. I’m taking her to the hospital. My car is downstairs p>

“I said,” Dallas’s voice dropped to a whisper far more terrifying than any shout, “give me my wife p>

Eliza pushed weakly against Anson’s chest and reached for Dallas. “D…” she whispered. “Take me home p>

Anson looked down at her. He saw the way her body leaned toward Dallas, like a plant seeking the sun. He saw the trust in her glazed eyes.

It broke him.

He loosened his arms.

“Take her,” Anson said, his voice hollow.

Dallas scooped her up effortlessly, cradling her against his chest, careful of her split lip. “I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ve got you p>

He turned and walked to the elevator without looking back — not at Anson, not at the unconscious man on the floor.

Anson stood alone in the wreckage. He stared at Dante’s still form, then at the knife on the floor. He nudged it with his shoe but didn’t pick it up. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number very few people had. “I have a situation at The Onyx,” he said, his voice cold and precise. “And an anonymous tip for the SEC regarding Dante Luna’s offshore accounts. He’s going to be buried so deep in litigation, he’ll never see the sun again p>

Downstairs, the lobby had dissolved into chaos. People were screaming.