Chapter 4

By the time Shane's outburst had run its course, he was nearly drained of strength.

"No!" I had just finished screaming myself hoarse when Shane drove the knife straight into my thigh.

An excruciating, bone-deep pain instantly shot through every limb and nerve in my body.

Staring at my bleeding leg, I collapsed to the ground in utter despair.

"Terry, you worthless piece of trash! Fight me for Caitlin, and I have ten thousand ways to kill you," Shane whispered with a laugh into my ear.

A shudder ran through my entire body as I realized he had been fully conscious the entire time.

With that, he pulled Caitlin into his arms.

"Caitlin, I'm sorry. The truth is, the moment I got on that plane all those years ago, I already regretted it. I know I had no right to come back, since you already have someone new by your side, but I just can't let you go."

He wept as though his heart were breaking.

A flicker of emotion stirred in Caitlin's eyes, but she still looked toward me first.

"Take Terry for treatment immediately! Get the best doctor!"

I was carried out, nearly blacking out from the pain.

I mustered the last of my strength to look toward the hospital room. Shane and Caitlin were kissing without restraint, and he had even slipped his hand inside her dress.

At the sight, I let out a dazed, hollow laugh. A metallic taste filled my throat as tears and blood poured out together.

I didn't know how much time had passed before I was jolted away by a surge of pain. Before my eyes wasn't the familiar hospital room but a cramped, dim box.

"Ms. Randall, we've found the person who hurt Mr. Tate. How should we deal with him?"

Caitlin's voice was cold and grim, as if even a single glance would soil her. "Send him to the auction house. You know what to do."

By the time I was let out, I was already in the dark, dank basement of the auction house.

A thick, nauseating stench hit me square in the face. I forced my eyes open with great effort and was instantly horrified by the scene before me.

Several filthy, reeking vagrants were tearing at my clothes, their eyes gleaming with savage hunger.

"Get away! Don't touch me!"

I crawled desperately toward the door but was yanked back by the hair and dragged across the floor.

"Ms. Randall has given her orders—whatever was done to Mr. Tate, you make this man suffer twice as much."

In utter despair, I shouted at the man, "That's impossible! Caitlin would never do this to me! Tell her I've already—"

The door slammed shut mercilessly, cutting off the rest of my words.

One of the vagrants had already picked up a tool from the shelf beside him and was walking toward me with a lecherous grin.

…

Meanwhile, Caitlin was tending to Shane's wounds. After all his thrashing and smashing earlier, he'd cut his finger open, and blood was seeping from the wound.

Caitlin paused mid-motion, a sudden pang stabbing at her heart. She had only ever felt this strange, unsettling sensation once before, and that was the time I had been injured in the explosion while saving her.

At that thought, she immediately summoned her subordinate. "Where's Terry? How are his injuries?"

Shane frowned and, from the shadows, shot the man a pointed look.

The man caught on instantly. "The best doctors have already been arranged to look after Mr. Boyer."

Only then did Caitlin breathe a sigh of relief.

After nightfall, Shane was finally coaxed to sleep.

Caitlin quietly pulled his hand away. Then, she rose to her feet and slipped out the door.

For the past few hours, there had been a vague sense of unease she just couldn't shake.

"Which room is Terry in? Take me to see him."

No sooner had she spoken that a few figures approached from the distance.

As if seeking credit, they pulled out a video and showed it to her.

"Ms. Randall, it's all done, just as you asked. I guarantee you'll be satisfied."

Caitlin frowned and glanced over it casually, because all she wanted was to go check on me as soon as possible. She never expected that this one glance would nearly give her a heart attack.