Novel1Chapter 493:
Feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, Carrie experienced a conflicting surge of pleasure while gasping for
air. Kristopher made love to her twice, pausing only when he remembered her earlier complaint of an upset
stomach. Afterward, he cleaned her up and made sure she was comfortably tucked into bed.
Carrie watched him from under the covers, her eyes peeking out, tracking his every move. He caught her
watching and softly suggested, “Try to get srest. | need to join a video call.”
Her hand emerged from the blanket, clutching at him, pleading, “Stay with me.”
Turning off his camera, he grabbed his laptop and settled next to her on the bed. She curled up beside him, idly
playing with the drawstring of his pajamas.
At the underground fight club, a man wearing a sinister mask and a white shirt splattered with vivid blood stood
ominously in one corner of the stage, his presence as haunting as a scene from a horror film. Even those who
knew him well could not reconcile this merciless fighter with the usually mild-mannered Daxton.
At his feet, a muscular man lay shirtless and writhing in agony on the ground. When the club’s doctor arrived,
the man had already stopped moving entirely. After examining him, the doctor stood, shaking his head solemnly.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt“He's dead.”
Without a second glance at the dead man, Daxton instructed the man next to him, “Send three hundred
thousand to his family for compensation.”
Underground battles often cwith life-or-death agreements, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to end fatally,
particularly when vast sums of money were at stake. Tonight's crowd, however, consisted of mere tourists
looking for entertainment, and they were horrified to witness an actual death unfold before them. The shock
rendered everyone motionless.
Clearly, the fighter on stage regarded human life as nothing more than a spectacle. The onlookers held their
breaths, afraid that Daxton might notice and direct his deadly attention towards them.
gVInov[JJsis your escape to fiction
With a stoic expression, Daxton stepped across the lifeless competitor and deftly leaped from the stage, making
his way to the backstage area. Once in the dressing room, he removed his mask and swapped his clothes. His
assistant noticed a cut on his arm and promptly said, “Mr. Garcia, you should have that looked at.”
Looking down, Daxton observed the blood seeping from a minor cut on his arm. He remembered that the injury
had occurred during a brutal takedown, where he had slammed the muscular man’s head repeatedly. During the
scuffle, the man’s eye socket had ruptured, splashing fluid onto Daxton. In his distress, the man had scratched
Daxton.
The cut was minor, and the rush of adrenaline had masked any pain Daxton might have felt. An impulsive
thought hit him. Eyeing a pair of scissors on the table, he deliberately deepened the cut, allowing the blood to
run. A slight smile played on his lips. This severe injury would surely cause her concern.
“Hold on a second,” he called to his assistant, who was on the verge of stepping out. “Taketo the hospital,
and then inform Carrie.”
Daxton was eager to see what decision Carrie would make. Would she choose to stay with Kristopher, or rush to
his side upon hearing of his injury?
At the hotel...
Kristopher was completely absorbed in his work. He sat in front of his computer, listening intently to a report
coming through on the other side while typing out notes into a document. Meanwhile, Carrie lay beside him,
bored out of her mind, mindlessly scrolling through her phone when, out of nowhere, an unfamiliar number
flashed on the screen.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm
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