Breaking Free, Loving Again -The Flash Marriage with Mr. CEO novel Chapter 752

Chapter 752: I will give you a better show.

In the meantime, Dafydd’s car finally came to a halt. His man hesitated, but looking through the rear mirror, he announced, "Sir, we have arrived at the location."

Dafydd paused when he heard that. His gaze darted toward the window, narrowing as he took in the deserted surroundings. The silence outside didn’t feel peaceful —instead, it felt suffocating, charged with the weight of something hidden beneath its stillness. A chaos.

His frown deepened as he studied the place.

"What kind of shi*ty place is this?" he muttered, though his voice carried a strain he couldn’t hide. He tried not to dwell on the thoughts clawing at him, but in his heart, a cold dread had already begun to spread.

His man looked around warily, his brows tightening. "This is the location we received, sir. If the tip is reliable ... then Young Master Bryn should be here. But we aren’t sure."

"Why would he be kept at a place like this?" Dafydd almost growled, but before he could let his anger burn further, his body betrayed him. His chest tightened, and he broke into a fit of coughs, harsh and uncontrollable.

"Sir!" The man quickly twisted around, unscrewing a bottle of water and offering it to him with urgent hands. His expression was etched with worry. "Please, don’t strain yourself. We don’t yet know what the situation is. We need to confirm before rushing in."

Dafydd’s fingers clenched around the bottle. His knuckles turned white as his breathing steadied with effort.

The very thought of his dear son —his Bryn —locked away in a place like this, perhaps suffering, perhaps hurt ... it made his blood boil until his veins screamed with fury.

His lips curled into a snarl.

"Aiden," he muttered, venom lacing each syllable, "you had better not have laid a finger on Bryn. Because if you have ..."

His eyes darkened, the fury in them almost feral. "... then even the heavens won’t be enough to protect you from me."

The car door clicked open, and Dafydd stepped out, his shoes crunching against the gravel of the abandoned site. His man followed him closely.

The entrance to the abandoned warehouse loomed ahead like a monster gaping, waiting to swallow them.

If it hadn’t been for Bryn, Dafydd would never have set foot in such filth. But now he had no other option. All he could think of was his son. He needed to take him away, safe and sound.

Inside the warehouse, the air felt damp, heavy with rust and mildew. Dafydd’s steps echoed sharply. His gaze darted across the figures stationed there — men standing rigid, silent, watching like shadows.

"Where is my son?" he asked in a snarl, grabbing one by the collar.

The man’s jaw tightened. However, he said nothing, as though he was instructed not to speak a word.

"You ... why aren’t you speaking? I asked you where my son is! Where is Bryn —"

His voice broke off.

"Arghhh —!!!"

A scream ripped through the air.

It wasn’t just any scream. It was a scream Dafydd recognized too well.

Bryn’s scream.

The sound rattled him to the marrow. His grip loosened as his body froze. His head snapped towards the dim corridor from where the cream had come, his heart pounding like a drum of war.

His fists clenched, and he surged forward.

No one stopped him. Dozens of men lined the walls, but not one lifted a hand. It was as if they were instructed to let him through.

The warehouse was a maze of shadows, but the deeper he went, the brighter it grew. A single bulb glared in the distance, swaying faintly from a chain, its light throwing jagged shadows on the walls.

And then Dafydd saw it.

The cavernous hall stretched before him, silent except for the wet crack of leather, echoing in the air.

Beneath the swaying bulb. Bryn sat, slumped in a steel chair. His arms were lashed tight behind him, his body jerking with every strike.

His shirt had long been torn to rags, his skin beneath raw and weeping. Each last from Tariq’s hip tore strips of his flesh, the song sickening, wet, as if meat was being ripped from the bone.

The moment Dafydd saw him like that, he couldn’t move. It felt like his soul had already left his body. He had imagined the worst happening, but in none of his imaginings had he imagined seeing Bryn in such a gory condition.

It was as though the scene had been staged —crafted deliberately for him to witness. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify