Chapter 6

The dust swirled in the harsh light spilling from the hallway.

A massive, broad-shouldered silhouette stepped through the ruined doorway. He looked like the grim reaper stepping into a graveyard.

The club music was still pounding. Julian Hawthorne stepped over the shattered wooden door, his face completely devoid of human emotion.

Behind him, Gus walked in, calmly slipping a GPS tracking tablet back into his jacket pocket. He had locked onto Evelyn's phone signal the moment she entered the building. Gus stepped forward and kicked the massive corner speaker with a heavy combat boot. The music died with a violent screech of static. The silence that followed was terrifying.

The rich kids in the room stared at the doorway. All the color drained from their faces. They looked like they were choking on their own tongues.

"Mr... Mr. Hawthorne!" one of the men stuttered, backing up so fast he knocked over a table of drinks.

Preston's hand, still holding the check in the air, froze. His victorious smile melted into absolute horror. His knees started knocking together so hard they made a sound.

Julian's eyes swept the room like a physical blade. They locked onto Evelyn.

She was still half-bent toward the floor, her eyes wide, her lips bitten raw.

When Julian saw her in that submissive, humiliating position, the veins on his forehead bulged. A violent, uncontrollable rage exploded in his dark eyes.

He took long, heavy strides across the room. His leather shoes hit the floor with a heavy thud that sounded like a war drum.

Evelyn stared at him, her brain completely paralyzed.

Julian reached her. His large, hot hand clamped around her upper arm. He yanked her up from her crouch with brutal force.

"Who gave you permission to kneel?" Julian's voice was a low, terrifying growl. His fingers dug painfully into her flesh.

Evelyn gasped in pain. She bit her lip and turned her head away, refusing to let him see the wet tears gathering in her eyes.

Julian pulled her hard behind his broad back, completely shielding her from the dirty stares of the men in the room. Then he slowly turned his head to look at Preston.

Preston looked like he was about to vomit. "Uncle... Uncle Julian. What are you doing here? I was just... we were just playing a joke on Eve..."

Before Preston could finish his sentence, Julian moved.

He was terrifyingly fast. Julian's hand shot out and grabbed the collar of Preston's shirt. He lifted the younger man completely off the floor.

Julian pulled his right arm back and drove his fist directly into the center of Preston's face.

A loud, wet crack echoed in the silent room.

Preston screamed. Blood exploded from his nose, spraying all over his expensive white shirt. Julian let go, and Preston flew backward, crashing hard into the glass coffee table. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces.

Kenzie shrieked in pure terror. She scrambled backward on her hands and knees and hid behind the sofa, shaking uncontrollably.

Julian did not stop. He walked over to where Preston was groaning in the broken glass. Julian lifted his heavy leather shoe and pressed it down hard on the center of Preston's chest, pinning him to the floor.

"A joke?" Julian sneered. He leaned down, grabbed a handful of Preston's blood-soaked hair, and yanked his head back.

"You use Hawthorne family money to play your disgusting little games, and you dare tell her to kneel?" Julian's voice was a lethal hiss. Every word was coated in venom.

"I'm sorry! Uncle, I'm sorry! I'll never do it again!" Preston sobbed hysterically. Blood bubbled from his mouth.

Julian looked at him with absolute disgust. He let go of Preston's hair, letting his head drop back onto the carpet. Julian stood up straight. He reached into his tailored suit jacket and pulled out a dark silk handkerchief.

He slowly wiped the blood off his knuckles. His voice was as cold as ice.

"Your trust fund is revoked. Get out of New York by tomorrow morning."

Preston's eyes rolled back into his head. He looked like he was going to pass out. His life was officially over.

No one in the room dared to breathe. They were paralyzed by the sheer violence of the tyrant.

Julian tossed the bloody handkerchief directly onto Preston's face. He turned around and walked back to Evelyn.

Evelyn was still frozen in shock.

Julian didn't say a single word. He suddenly bent down, wrapped his thick arm around the back of her knees, and hoisted her up into the air. He threw her over his broad shoulder like a sack of flour.

Evelyn gasped loudly. The sudden movement knocked the wind out of her. She started kicking her legs. "Julian! Put me down! What are you doing!"

Julian raised his large hand and slapped her hard on the backside. It was a sharp, stinging warning to stay still.

He adjusted his grip on her thighs and walked out of the destroyed VIP room, carrying her away while the rest of the room watched in absolute terror.