Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 141

Bennett’s gaze slid away from Zayden, cold as a blade forged in ice, and landed on Julian. There was nothing human in his eyes—not a flicker of warmth, only a depthless indifference, as if he were looking at a total stranger who didn’t matter in the slightest.

He didn’t bother to answer Julian’s question.

His eyes flicked past Julian to Desiree, who was clutching Zayden’s arm on instinct, yet still staring at Bennett as if he were the only thing in the room. For a split second, a trace of contempt—so faint it was almost invisible—crossed Bennett’s face, as if he were glancing at a speck of dust.

Finally, his gaze settled on Zayden, who was frozen in place, one arm still stupidly raised in midair, his trousers soaked and stained from spilled whiskey.

A slow, icy smirk curled at the corner of Bennett’s lips.

He strode forward, ignoring everyone else.

Bennett spared one last look at Gwyneth before heading straight for the exit.

His steps were measured and unhurried, yet every footfall across the litter of shattered wood and glass rang out with a quiet menace, echoing through the ravaged room.

As Bennett drew near, the cluster of Nocturne Spirits security at the doorway parted in silence, as if the Red Sea had split for him. They stepped aside with a kind of reverent, lethal discipline, clearing a path without a word.

He turned around, his voice slicing through the tension.

“Next door.” Bennett’s tone was as flat and impassive as a weather report.

“Mr. Ford’s bodyguards,” he continued, pausing for a heartbeat. Then, with a glint of razor-sharp sarcasm that scraped like an icicle across glass, he finished, “were making too much noise.”

He didn’t even bother to glance at Julian’s face, which had gone rigid with shock, nor did he spare a look for the four bodyguards, who had turned ghostly pale, sweat popping out on their brows in fat, terrified beads.

It was as if the whole dramatic, door-smashing entrance—brimming with barely restrained violence—had simply been the “reasonable” response to a bit of noise.

With a single stride, he crossed out of the doorway’s shadow.

“What are you staring at?”

Just as Zayden, bristling with humiliation at the mention of “too much noise,” was about to lash out at Gwyneth, his furious glare found her.

But Bennett’s voice, sharp as a scalpel, cut through the air and nailed Zayden in place.

Zayden stiffened, the heat of his anger doused in an instant by those three glacial words, leaving only a chill that crept through his veins.

He jerked his head up, catching only the glimpse of Bennett’s tall, unyielding figure disappearing into the dim corridor, a silhouette radiating more oppressive authority than the violence of his entrance moments ago.

That was the presence of someone who’d spent a lifetime at the top of the food chain—someone for whom destroying the Ford family’s century-old legacy would take no more effort than crushing an insect.

Cross Bennett?

Zayden’s blood felt like it had frozen solid.

This was a man who really could, with a flick of his wrist, annihilate everything the Fords had built.

Compared to Julian, the head of the Locke family was infinitely more terrifying.

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