Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 62

A powerful arm clamped around her waist like a steel band, pulling her tightly into a protective embrace and shutting out all the chaos and danger swirling around them.

The sharp, familiar scent of cedar—cool and crisp—mingled with a subtle hint of tobacco, swept over her senses in a heady rush.

But something was wrong. There was another note in the air—metallic, unmistakable: blood.

Gwyneth’s heart thundered as she looked up, only to meet a pair of fathomless eyes now blazing with barely restrained fury.

Bennett.

Wasn’t he supposed to be in the car?

One of his hands was clamped around her waist, shielding her completely behind his broad frame, a living bulwark she could never hope to scale.

With his other hand, he’d seized the wrist of the attacker—still gripping a knife.

The blade, glinting coldly under the lights, was buried halfway through the web of skin between Bennett’s thumb and index finger, blood already beginning to seep out.

Where there had been wild desperation in the assailant’s eyes, now there was only terror. He tried to wrench the knife free, but Bennett’s grip was ironclad; the weapon didn’t budge an inch.

“Looking for trouble,” Bennett growled, his words cold and final, slipping between clenched teeth like a sentence handed down by Death himself.

Even before the echo of his voice died away, Bennett released Gwyneth, but his injured left hand stayed locked on the attacker’s wrist like a vise, blood pouring down his arm. His right hand shot out, faster than a striking snake.

There was a sickening crack—the snap of bone, sharp and chilling.

The attacker’s wrist bent at an impossible angle, and he screamed like an animal, collapsing to the ground in a heap, the blood-smeared knife clattering uselessly across the polished floor.

Only then did Bennett slowly loosen his grip, blood gushing from his torn palm in a wild, uncontrolled torrent. Crimson droplets splattered the ground, leaving a broken line in their wake.

“Mr. Boyd!”

The security team, pale-faced and panicked, rushed to Bennett’s side.

“Get a doctor! Now!”

Gwyneth’s voice shook with a tremor she didn’t recognize in herself as she nearly threw herself to Bennett’s side.

She stared at his hand, blood still streaming from the ragged wound, fear and panic crashing over her like an icy tide. Her heart clenched so hard it felt like she couldn’t breathe.

When she looked up at Bennett, her eyes were wide with shock and confusion, and glimmering with a vulnerability she hadn’t even realized was there.

Why were her eyes raining?

Bennett met her gaze, taking in the shimmer of tears, the way her lips had gone pale from fear.

His right hand, still wrapped around her wrist, didn’t let go—instead, it tightened, as if he couldn’t bear to let her slip away.

A strange, almost absurd sense of satisfaction flickered through him, for a moment overwhelming even the ripping pain in his hand.

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