Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 159

Multiple fractures? A raging fever that won’t break?

A bitter, metallic taste surged up Darren’s throat.

The last time he’d felt this close to coughing up blood was two years ago, when he’d heard that Charlotte had “died” in the explosion.

His eyes flashed with cold fury. He lunged forward, grabbing the messenger by the collar, his voice barely containing a murderous rage. “The verdict isn’t even in yet. Who gave them the right to take matters into their own hands?”

“Mr. Harrington, it was her cellmates... We discovered they were all acting on Mr. Quinn Elliot’s orders…”

…

Half an hour later, the door of the most exclusive private lounge in the city was kicked open with a crash.

The deafening surge of electronic music cut out in an instant.

Every head in the room snapped up, all eyes locking onto the man at the door radiating a glacial chill.

Elliot was lounging on a velvet couch, arms draped around two women, laughing and drinking. The moment he saw Darren, his heart skipped a beat. He forced a grin and tried to sound casual. “Mr. Harrington? To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Darren didn’t answer. He just signaled to the bodyguards behind him to shut the door tight.

The heavy thud of the closing door filled the tense silence. Darren strode straight up to Elliot, and before Elliot could react, Darren’s fist smashed into his face.

“Agh!”

Elliot’s scream tore through the room. The force of the blow shattered three of his teeth.

The guests recoiled in shock, huddling in the corners, desperate to stay out of the line of fire.

“Mr. Harrington! Please, let’s talk this out—!”

Their pleas fell on deaf ears. Darren threw Elliot to the floor, pinning him down. With a sickening series of pops and Elliot’s howls of agony, Darren snapped his arms and legs one by one.

Finally, Darren seized a heavy crystal decanter from the table and brought it crashing down on Elliot’s head.

Smash!

The bottle shattered. Blood streamed down Elliot’s face as he slumped to the floor, barely clinging to consciousness.

“Please… Mr. Harrington… have mercy…”

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