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SIXTY NINE

Daniel blinked as he stared at the phone and took a few deep breaths. If that Philip Summers or Logan or whatever his bloody name was dared to harm even one strand of Jane’s hair, he would personally wring the guy’s neck himself.

But what consumed Daniel was not anger, rather it was a gutwrenching fear. It latched upon him the moment he heard Jane’s muffled screams through the phone.

God, please let her and Timmy be okay.

The taxi driver peered at Daniel through the rearview mirror and cleared his throat. “Sir…are we still heading towards Mangrove Apartment? Shouldn’t we get you to the hospital instead? Your hand’s kinda mangled.”

Daniel looked at his bloodied fist. Blood dripped onto the upholstery and his mind started to play tricks on him. It was his fault, if only he hadn’t pushed her away, if only he had kept her safe! What if the bastard bled her like how his hand bled?

Stop thinking nonsense!

He groaned and sh

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