Chapter 191
[ 507 words ]
Chapter 191:
“Take your filthy hands off me, you piece of trash!” Beatrice screamed, clutching the whimpering dog to her chest. “You stole my dog! It’s worth over ten thousand dollars! Do you know who my family is? I will have you thrown in a cage!”
Shoppers from the next aisle ran over, pulling out their phones to record the screaming rich woman and the girl in the hoodie.
Caroline looked down and saw fresh, bright red blood seeping through the white bandages on the dog’s hind leg, staining Beatrice’s expensive Chanel jacket.
The logical part of Caroline’s brain screamed at her to let go. Assaulting a wealthy socialite in a crowded supermarket would bring the police. It would expose her location. It would ruin everything Jarrod had built to protect her.
But the violent, suppressed rage of the last three days — the fear of Jarrod dying, the suffocating control, the betrayal of her parents — finally boiled over.
Caroline did not let go. She tightened her grip on the nerve cluster.
𝗧𝗁е bes𝘁 𝗋𝗲𝘢𝖽𝗂𝘯𝗀 𝖾x𝗽е𝗋i𝗲𝗇𝗰е 𝗈𝘯 𝘨𝗮𝘭𝘯𝘰𝘷e𝘭𝘀.𝘤𝗈m
She leaned down until her face was inches from Beatrice’s ear.
“I don’t care if you are the Queen of England,” Caroline whispered, her voice dripping with pure, homicidal intent. “If you do not let go of that animal right now, I am going to break your arm in three different places.”
Caroline did not let go.
Her thumb remained locked against the nerve cluster near Beatrice Hendor’s collarbone, just hard enough to keep the woman on her knees and not hard enough to do permanent damage.
“If you do not let go of that animal right now,” Caroline said, her voice low and perfectly even, “I am going to break your arm in three different places.”
For one suspended second, the entire pet store seemed to stop breathing.
Beatrice’s face was contorted in pain and aristocratic fury. She clutched the whimpering black Cavapoo to her chest, her Chanel jacket already stained with fresh blood from the torn bandage on
the dog’s hind leg.
“You stole my dog!” Beatrice screamed, her voice cracking. “It is worth over ten thousand dollars! Do you know who my family is? I will have you thrown in a cage!”
Shoppers from the next aisle began to run over, pulling out their phones to record the screaming rich woman on the floor, the trembling dog in her arms, and the girl in cheap sweatpants and a
baseball cap standing over her with lethal stillness.
Caroline looked down.
She saw the bright red blood seeping through the white bandages on the dog’s hind leg, staining Beatrice’s expensive jacket.
The sight of it snapped the world into brutal clarity.
The wound she had paid five thousand dollars to repair had been torn open by one careless, entitled yank.
For half a heartbeat, the old instinct burned through her: end the threat, secure the asset, neutralize the hostile.
Then she became aware of the phones.
The cameras.
The audience.
The tactical calculus fired cold and fast through her mind. This was not a combat zone. She could not afford to be arrested. Her name, once entered into any police database, would trigger a
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