Chapter 48 Avenge Her

Chapter 48 Avenge Her

Shane's face darkened. He walked up to her, his slender fingers gently brushing over the swelling on her cheek, his movements so tender as if afraid of hurting her.

"Don't be stubborn." His voice was low, carrying an irresistible gentleness. "What you need now is rest, not to deal with all that mess. I'll get the best lawyer money can buy. Don't worry about the cost—I'll handle it."

He looked at her, those unfathomably dark eyes filled with heartache and determination.

Monica's heart felt like it was being gently squeezed by an invisible hand, sore and tight.

She knew he was protecting her, and she knew everything he said was true.

In her current state, she really wasn't fit to face the verbal battles of a courtroom.

"Okay." She answered softly, her voice carrying a barely noticeable catch.

A trace of relief flashed through Shane's eyes.

He got the medicine and gently lifted her up. Monica obediently buried her head against his chest, letting him carry her out of the hospital and into the night, heading home.

The car drove smoothly back to the apartment, silent all the way.

Shane carried her out of the car. Monica didn't resist, obediently resting her head on his shoulder.

This careful attention felt like a debt she could never repay, pressing heavily on her chest.

She was used to facing storms alone. Being suddenly sheltered under someone's wing gave her an almost shameful sense of guilt.

Back at the apartment, Shane gently placed her on the bed, then turned to pour a glass of warm water and laid out the medicine and cotton swabs the doctor had prescribed on the nightstand.

"Be good, take your medicine." He knelt beside the bed, his voice extremely low and coaxing.

Monica looked at him. The man before her had shed his usual coldness and sarcasm, leaving only undisguised heartache.

She silently took the medicine and swallowed it with water, the bitter taste spreading across her tongue.

Shane picked up a cotton swab, dabbed it with ointment, and carefully applied it to the wound at the corner of her lips.

His movements were incredibly gentle, as if afraid of causing her the slightest pain.

"Sleep now," he tucked the blanket around her, his fingertips gently caressing her cheek. "Don't think about anything. I'm here."

Those two words were like an unbreakable spell, instantly smoothing away all her panic and unease.

The exhaustion of recent days and the terror she'd just experienced washed over her like a tide. Monica finally closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

After confirming her breathing was steady and she was completely asleep, the tenderness and concern on Shane's face instantly vanished, as if he'd put on a cold mask.

He stood up, the darkness in his eyes settling into a deathly stillness edged with cold menace.

He grabbed his jacket from the sofa and left without a moment's hesitation, heading straight out the door.

The night wind rushed into the car, unable to dispel the towering rage between his brows.

The black Bentley cut through the silent midnight like a shadow, heading straight for the police station.

On the third basement level of the station, in a windowless interrogation room, Derek was handcuffed to a chair, his face bruised, yet showing not a trace of remorse.

"I'm going to report you! Illegal detention! Abuse of power!" he shouted at the two young officers in front of him. "Do you know who my dad is? One phone call from me and I can have your badges!"

Just then, the interrogation room door was pushed open.

Shane walked in, followed by the chief, whose face was covered in nervous sweat.

He was still wearing the simple loungewear from earlier, but the pressure around him was frighteningly low, as if freezing all the air in the room.

He didn't look at anyone, just walked to the side and slowly pulled out a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket, putting them on deliberately. The knuckles of the gloves were fitted with hard metal pieces that gleamed darkly under the lights.

When Derek saw him, he froze for a moment, then as if finding an outlet, his expression became even more arrogant. "So it's you! Shane, you dare touch me? Let me tell you, that bitch Monica..."

Before he could finish, Shane was already in front of him.

Without any warning, a punch carrying thunderous fury slammed hard into Derek's face.

The dull thud accompanied by the crisp sound of bone displacement—Derek's shouting stopped abruptly. His whole body jerked backward, nearly toppling the chair.

Blood sprayed from his mouth, instantly staining half his face red.

"You..." Derek was stunned, his eyes full of disbelief.

Shane shook his hand, the metal knuckles stained with glaring red. He bent down and grabbed Derek by the collar, those unfathomably dark eyes filled with madness and cruelty enough to tear someone apart.

"Which hand did you want to touch her with?"

Derek was frightened by the killing intent in his eyes, his whole body trembling, but alcohol and long-standing arrogance kept him defiant. "Are you fucking crazy! For that slut... Ah!"

Another punch, heavier and more vicious. Derek's nose bridge collapsed, warm blood covering his face, the pain making his vision go black.

"I'll ask one more time," Shane's voice was cold as if coming from hell. "Which hand did you want to touch her with?"

Derek finally realized that the man before him wasn't bluffing—he really wanted to kill him.

But before he could beg for mercy, Shane had already pulled out a gun from behind his waist, the dark barrel precisely pressed against his knee.

The cold metal touch made all the blood in Derek's body freeze instantly.

"...Mr. Carter... I was wrong, I was wrong..." He was finally scared, his voice shaking uncontrollably. "I'm not human, I drank too much, I'll never dare again..."

Shane acted as if he hadn't heard his pleas. He just looked at Derek's bloody face and asked softly, word by word, "Do you know what you did wrong?"

"I... I know, I shouldn't have touched her, shouldn't have disrespected Ms. Scott..."

"No," Shane pulled a cold smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Your mistake was that after touching her, you're still sitting here alive."

The moment the words fell, he pulled the trigger.

"Bang—"

The gunshot was muffled by the silencer, but the sound of the bullet tearing through flesh and bone was clearly audible.

Derek let out an inhuman, piercing scream. His whole body slid off the chair, rolling on the ground clutching his bloody knee.

Shane didn't want him in prison—he wanted his life!

"Mercy... Mr. Carter, have mercy!" Derek was crying and sniveling, completely broken down. "I'll never dare again! Please spare me, I'll be your slave..."

The killing intent in Shane's eyes didn't diminish in the slightest. He lifted his foot and stomped hard on Derek's injured leg, the gun barrel slowly moving up to aim at his forehead.

He wanted to kill him right now.

"Mr. Carter!" The chief couldn't watch anymore and rushed forward to grab his hand. "Calm down! This scum isn't worth it!"

Shane's chest heaved violently, the crimson madness in his eyes almost consuming him.

After a long while, as if exhausted of all strength, he slowly lowered the gun.

But he didn't let Derek off. The moment he withdrew his foot, he delivered another heavy punch, completely knocking the man unconscious.

"The rest," Shane removed his blood-stained gloves and threw them on the ground, his gaze coldly sweeping over the chief, "handle it by the book. I don't want to hear any news about him on the outside again."

"You can count on it." The chief wiped the sweat from his forehead, nodding and bowing in assurance.

--

The next morning, the first ray of sunlight shone through the curtain gaps into the bedroom.

Monica woke up with a slight ache. She moved and found that her wounds had all been well treated, though her cheek was still slightly swollen.

She slowly opened her eyes. Her vision was still a bit blurry, but in the next second, she was suddenly wide awake.

Beside the bed was a chair.

Shane sat there, still wearing yesterday's loungewear, though it was somewhat wrinkled.

His eyes were closed, seemingly asleep, one hand resting on the edge of the bed, just a few centimeters from her hand.

The morning light outlined his handsome profile, his long lashes casting a quiet shadow beneath his eyes.

He had actually stayed here watching over her all night.

Monica's heartbeat skipped a beat, her cheeks burning uncontrollably.

She was about to quietly sit up without disturbing him when the man's thick lashes trembled and he slowly opened his eyes.

They were eyes bloodshot from staying up all night, but the moment they met hers, all the exhaustion and coldness quickly faded, leaving only clear tenderness.

"You're awake?" he said, his voice terribly hoarse.

Monica was caught red-handed and guiltily looked away, but still couldn't help scolding, "Why are you here? Why didn't you knock before coming in?"

Shane looked at her slightly angry but adorable expression, a faint smile crossing his eyes.

He stood up and tucked the blanket around her, his voice low and sincere. "Sorry."

After a pause, he added, "I was afraid of waking you."