Chapter 64 His Bloody Warning
The screeching of tires pierced the night as multiple vehicles surrounded our car. The headlights blinded me, making it impossible to see who had intercepted us.
"Fuck," the man in the passenger seat muttered, hastily pulling up his pants before pushing the door open. The other two men jumped out as well. I remained inside, uncertain if these were Ethan's vehicles or yet another threat. Luke stayed too, his expression darkening as he glanced at me.
I gave him a small smile, attempting to offer reassurance despite my own terror.
Four black G-Wagons formed a perfect blockade around us, their engines still running, headlights creating an intimidating wall of light. Eight tall, imposing men in impeccable suits emerged simultaneously from the vehicles. Each moved with military precision, creating a perimeter around the three gang members who now stood frozen, clearly outmatched.
Then I saw him. Ethan stepped out of the lead vehicle, his commanding height and posture unmistakable even in the harsh glare of headlights. His face was carved from stone, eyes cold and predatory as they surveyed the scene.
All the emotions I'd been suppressing—fear, relief, desperation—suddenly burst through. Tears streamed down my face as I watched Ethan approach with measured steps, each movement forcing the gang members to retreat further.
I hurried out of the car, my legs trembling so badly I could barely stand. I looked at Ethan through tear-blurred vision, biting my lip to keep from sobbing outright.
"Don't be afraid," he said, pulling me into his embrace and pressing a kiss to my temple. "I'm here now."
His voice was gentle, but when he looked over my shoulder at the men who'd taken me, his eyes hardened to obsidian. He reached into the car and withdrew a pair of black leather gloves from the glove compartment.
"Wait in the car," he instructed, gently patting my head.
I caught his hand before he could turn away, pressing the iPad into his palm. "There's a threatening video on here," I explained, my voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn't taken by these three—someone else orchestrated this."
Ethan nodded once, guiding me to his vehicle before turning his attention to the gang members.
Through the tinted windows, I watched as Ethan methodically put on his gloves, approaching the three men who now knelt on the ground surrounded by his security team.
Marco trembled so badly he looked like he might wet himself. "Mr. Bennett, please," he begged, "we had no idea she was yours."
The second man nodded frantically. "It's true, sir. We didn't know she belonged to you, and we never actually touched her—"
CRACK!
Ethan's gloved fist connected with the passenger-seat man's face, followed immediately by a vicious kick that sent him sprawling across the asphalt. When he tried to rise, one of Ethan's men casually stepped on his face, pinning him down.
Ethan flexed his hand, turning his attention to Marco. Another calculated blow knocked out one of Marco's teeth, blood spraying from his mouth before a kick sent him to the ground as well.
"Press harder," Ethan commanded coldly when his security placed a foot on Marco's face.
The man increased the pressure, grinding Marco's cheek into the pavement. Marco howled in pain until Ethan placed his Italian leather shoe directly over his mouth and pressed down with deliberate force.
In the harsh headlights, blood streamed down both sides of Marco's face, pooling around his collar. Though his body trembled with agony, he no longer dared to make a sound.
For the third man, Ethan didn't even bother. He simply removed his gloves, threw them contemptuously at Marco's bloodied face, and gave his security team a slight nod.
What followed was a symphony of violence—fists and boots connecting with flesh and bone. Not a single cry escaped the man's lips throughout the beating, as though he knew making noise would only make things worse.
I realized with growing unease that this time, Ethan wasn't hiding this side of himself from me. This was a warning, both to them and to me: he wouldn't tolerate anyone threatening what he considered his. And my days of casually going out with friends were over. From now on, my every move would be under his strict control.
Luke stood off to the side, silent and watchful.
After he finished, Ethan pulled out his phone. "Tell Mr. Knight his men touched my woman," he said, his voice deadly calm. "I expect an explanation tomorrow."
As he hung up, the sound of approaching vehicles broke the night's silence. Two more cars pulled up alongside the road. I saw Jackson step out of one, holding the door open for someone inside.
"Get out," he said firmly.
Mia reluctantly emerged, her beautiful face already streaked with tears. When she spotted Ethan, she broke into fresh sobs, running toward him with practiced grace.
"Ethan," she cried, her face upturned to his. "Are you really going to side against me for her?"
Ethan's expression remained impassive. "Mia, you've crossed a line this time."
Mia faltered at his cold tone. Then her demeanor shifted, grief transforming into something harder as she thrust an accusing finger toward my car.
"Is she your weakness now?" Her voice rose to nearly a scream. "What's so special about her? Her youth? Her beauty? If that's what you want, there are countless girls at performing arts schools prettier and younger than her. Why her?"
Ethan didn't respond verbally. Instead, he gestured to one of his men.
"Stay away!" she shrieked, her eyes wild as she glared at Ethan. "Have you considered what happens to her after this? You'll eventually marry someone appropriate—not her. When that happens, even if I don't touch her, others won't leave her alone. These men—" she gestured toward the bleeding gang members, "—will they forget what happened tonight?"
Her voice dropped lower, becoming more calculated. "Your father, your mother, your grandfather—they will never accept someone like her. I arranged this to scare her away, to make her understand she doesn't belong in your world."
"If you punish me for protecting our family name, think about your parents' anger. Your mother would rather die than see you with that girl."
"When your mother threatens suicide—and she will—are you really going to choose some random girl over your own mother's life?"