Chapter thirty-seven

The sounds of sirens broke the peaceful atmosphere, as corpses were being conveyed from the wedding venue to the morgue by ambulance.

Even the police had stormed the place, as they handcuffed the perpetrator and led him toward the police van not caring about treating his injured shoulder or bruised face.

Family members of the deceased, either wailed or threw curses at Chase for killing their loved ones.

The press did not miss such a golden opportunity, as they asked questions and took pictures for their story.

Chase sat at the back of the van handcuffed, with a few guards of his who only broke a few bones and some policemen.

He did not say a word but cursed in his heart with hatred. He suddenly began to wish he had shot Carl himself, instead of letting his guards do it. But now, there was no need to cry over spilled milk.

This wasn’t how he had expected it to go. His vision was dulled by the blood seeping out slowly from his wounded forehead.

Soon, the van started moving and he