Joshua Hughes looked at Tate Hunter, his handso lips curved into a wicked and cold smile. His tall figure moved forward, and suddenly, a ferocious and powerful iron fist had already slamd into Tate Hunter’s abdon. The force of the punch was fierce; Tate Hunter had to support himself on the table to avoid falling to the ground, yet he could still feel the intense pain of his ribs possibly breaking.
"Joshua Hughes, you’ve gone too far." An angry roar ca as Vincent Hunter, seeing his son being bullied, stood up from the center, with a surge of anger and anxiety.
Today’s situation was certainly difficult to handle, but he hadn’t expected Joshua Hughes to dare hit soone in front of everyone.
The bodyguards standing behind Vincent Hunter had tense expressions, taking a step forward, as if a bloody fight was about to start.
Everyone present was worried that such a scene, once it really started, would be hard to manage.
"I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that coming from anyone else, but when it cos from you, why does it sound so strange? This is just a little lesson for him, so he knows never to even look at my woman, let alone think about her. This is my first and last warning to you: mind your words, or not even God can save you..." Joshua Hughes suddenly seized Tate Hunter’s right hand forcefully, and Julian Carter’s figure moved like a flash, cutting down swiftly. Dark red blood spurted onto the table, dyeing the playing cards red.
The terrifying, scream-like wails almost pierced everyone’s eardrums...
The hand missing three fingers looked grotesque and terrifying, and the entire large venue was imdiately filled with a bloody scent.
Joshua Hughes was indeed as ruthless and wild as rumored.
This was in Las Vegas, and it was just a match. Was it worth it to offend the fiercest character in Las Vegas just to please a woman?
Avery Jane watched the dark red blood gush out, watched Tate Hunter clutch his fingerless hand, trembling and twitching, his face pale and breaking out in cold sweat. Many years ago, wasn’t her father just like this?
No, her father had it worse. He saw the woman he loved most suffer the most terrible humiliation because of him, and then had three fingers cut off.
Avery Jane gently closed her eyes, wondering what her father felt when he picked up her mother’s scarred body with his bloody fingerless hand. Perhaps she could never truly understand, but it must have been heart-wrenching despair like the end of the world.
Vincent Hunter was stunned for a mont before reacting to what had happened: "Quick, call an ambulance, send him to the hospital, hurry..."
The nearby bodyguard had already wrapped the three fingers in a clean tissue. They were just cut off, so there might still be ti to reattach them at the hospital, but the nerves and sensation after reattachnt would definitely not be as good as before, and excelling at playing cards would be impossible.
"What’s wrong, not feeling well?" A hoarse voice seed to co from deep within his chest, as he looked at Avery Jane’s pale face, feeling a twinge of distress.
"Today, today, thank you." After saying thank you, Avery Jane wanted to leave because the many people and the bloody scene made her a bit uneasy. She wanted to get away from this place as soon as possible.
"Just a thank you?" No matter how he behaved, how he tried to win her over, how he went out of his way for her, she rely said a light thank you.
Joshua Hughes’s heart ached deeply, yet the tone of his words seed understated.
He was just overthinking. Did he really expect her to be enthusiastic, or imdiately offer herself? After all, she used to hate him so much, wishing him dead. Now, she could peacefully say thank you, which was already a blessing, wasn’t it?
Avery Jane clutched her shawl tightly, with a hint of wariness on her clear and exquisite face.
Joshua Hughes saw her gaze, that look mixed with helplessness, heartache, confusion, and distrust. It gave him an answer: she still couldn’t forgive him.
In her eyes, perhaps he was nothing but a womanizer, changing won every day, using forceful thods.
She wouldn’t even give him a chance to explain, nor let him get close.
His deep dark eyes watched that solitary departing figure, every crimson thread within them clearly visible.
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