Ethan Sullivan looked up.
Sophia Sullivan was helping him.
Why?
She had no reason to get involved.
This mother and son were trouble.
Sophia smiled gently.
But her words cut like knives.
Zachary Sullivan hissed in pain.
The coffee was scalding.
It splashed onto him.
He screamed.
"You bitch! I'll kill you!"
Zachary had always gotten his way.
He'd never been humiliated like this.
First time a woman had played him.
Ethan's earlier strike still had him doubled over.
Now the burning coffee kept him writhing on the floor.
Like a drowned rat.
Amelia Sullivan fared worse.
Coffee soaked her clothes.
Fabric clung to her skin.
Red burns blossomed across her flesh.
She tried to stay composed.
But the pain was too much.
"Ethan, is this how you train your people? Hate us all you want, but don't resort to violence."
Amelia usually played the saint.
Now she rose with icy fury.
Her tone turned venomous.
She stalked toward Sophia.
"Miss Sullivan, since your parents failed to teach you manners, I'll do it for them."
She raised her hand to strike.
Sophia noted her sluggish movement.
Poor stance.
Full of openings.
"Only the dead can discipline me on my parents' behalf. Care to join them, Mrs. Sullivan?"
Sophia's voice dripped venom.
Her expression remained calm.
Dark eyes like bottomless pits.
Amelia felt a flicker of primal fear.
As if death itself stared back.
Just an illusion.
Amelia's rage flared hotter.
How dare this girl mock her.
"Pathetic scare tactics."
Amelia swung.
Couldn't touch Ethan openly.
But Sophia was fair game.
Ian Gallagher frowned.
His scalpel gleamed in hand.
Ready to intervene.
A doctor knew how to cripple.
Ethan moved faster.
He caught Amelia's wrist.
"...Suicidal."
His voice was steady.
Veins bulged across his hand.
Absolute dominance.
Sophia watched him.
Remembered their elevator kiss.
That same predatory intensity.
Lips crushing against hers.
More than desire.
A battle for control.
What began as a game became an addiction.
Ethan's danger was intoxicating.
Like now.
He could've let others do his dirty work.
Or handled things discreetly.
Yet he stood between them.
As if to say—
Give me the knife.
I'll slit their throats for you.
Ethan didn't care about consequences.
Crack.
Amelia turned ghostly pale.
She shrieked.
"Let go!"
The pain shattered her facade.
Her wrist bent at a sickening angle.
Before today, Ethan's hatred stayed hidden.
Never overt violence.
Something had changed.
No migraine clouded his mind.
But terrifying storms raged in his eyes.
As if murder didn't faze him.