Donovan was clearly badly injured. His breathing had turned heavy, so ragged he couldn't even form words.
Moments later, the medical staff rushed in. Seeing the blood on his lips and his face drained of color, they quickly checked his blood pressure and began further examinations.
Only then did Anne, sobered by the sight, realize the madness of what she had just done. She froze for a moment, then turned to slip out the door.
Before she could escape, Giselle charged after her, seized a fistful of her hair, and cracked a slap across her face.
Anne's ears rang from the blow. Grinding her teeth, eyes blazing, she tried to strike back. But before her hand could land, Giselle caught her wrist in an iron grip.
The thought of what Anne had done filled Giselle with rage. She lifted her leg and landed a brutal kick directly to Anne's stomach.
More accustomed to occasional workouts than any real training, Anne was no match for Giselle, who lived and breathed extreme sports. The brutal kick sent her sprawling across the floor, scraping open her elbow and sending a searing pain up her arm.
"Bitch," Giselle spat, grinding her foot onto Anne's hand. "How dare you raise your hand against him like that? Were you trying to kill him?"
"Let go of me!" Anne shrieked. She lay crumpled on the floor, her fingers pinned under Giselle's boot, the sting of pain mingling with humiliation.
Glaring up with pure hatred, she shouted through gritted teeth. "Yeah, that's right! I wanted him dead! I wanted to cripple him while he's half alive! If I can't have him, then you won't either, you worthless tramp!
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