Chapter 75

The moment the words left Waylons mouth, the space was filled with heavy tension

Every gaze snapped to Roger and Alexia, expectation simmering in the charged air.

Roger blanched, his skin turning ashen, shoulders locking up as if the weight of the moment was turning him to stone, pride fracturing under the strain.

He turned to Alexia; mixed feelings struck him-shock,disbelief,humiliation...

For a split second, Alexia's brows rose in genuine surprise, but her self-possession was back almost instantly.

Their standoff lasted only a moment before Roger dropped his eyes, shame washing over him

Waylon didn't so much as blink, his voice cold and dismissive. "If kneelingis too much for you, then disappear."

Roger's fists curled until his knuckles threatened to split, the sound stark in the charged quiet.

He glared at Waylon-the same figure who'd always cast a shadow over every entitled heir in the city, a mountain none of them had ever managed to climb.

Even now, with years behind them. Roger found it impossible to meet Waylon's gaze without feeling that old sting of being lesser

Waylon had always wielded power like a scalpel-slicing egos, cutting pride, never breaking a sweat as he did it.

"Roger, you have to help me," Brandon whimpered from where he lay sprawled, but Roger didn't move,his silence speaking volumes

Nothing horrified him more than the thought of losing face in front of Alexia-groveling, admitting guilt,or falling to his knees was unthinkable.

In his mind, he'd done nothing to deserve this.

Waylon sent Simon a meaningful look, and Simon caught on instantly.

Without a word, one of the men seized Brandon's injured hand, raised the blade, and cut off two fingers

A sickening snap rang out, followed by a screamn so sharp and desperate it seemed to slice the air. Blood streamed from what was left of Brandon's hand as he writhed,his curses breaking into pitiful raqqed sobs

Simon watched the scene unfold, gaze steady From the way the hand hung limp it was clear Brandon would never use it again

"Brandon..." Only then did Roger lurch forward desperately pressing on the wound, face drained of color.

Brandon's eyes, red and brimming with pain, glared at his cousin. "Why didn't you do anything?"

Unable to face him, Roger kept his head down, guilt eating at him.

A low chuckle rumbled from Waylon's chest. He turned to Alexia and ran a hand lightly through her hair, as if nothing grim had happened.

"We should go," he murmured, his voice soft, leaving everyone around them stunned.

Alexia stared at him, bewildered, but after a beat,she gave a small nod.

Waylon's eyes dipped to her shoes for a brief second.Before she could react, he leaned down and swept her into his arms with practiced ease.

Surprise locked her in place, her mind whirling.Instinctively, her hands gripped his shirt, her heart lurching in het chest I'm fine Just a few scrapes l can walk," she whispered

A hint of warmth crept into Waylon's gaze as he offered a playful remark, saying. Oh, sure. Battling gangsters in heels and getting off with a few scrapes?That's something else. But I'm carrying you anyway Indulge me,will you?"

As usual, his logic left her with no comeback.

Waylon's stride was unhurried, each step steady as he made his way to the sleek black sedan. Simon,always a step ahead, swung the door open before they reachedit.

Settling into the back seat, Alexia paused, her voice low. "What about the bodies in the factory?"

A shadow crossed Waylon's eyes. "Don't concern yourself. I'll take care of it."

She met his look, her tone turning earnest. "Thank you.Seems I'm racking up favors | can't repay."

A quiet sigh escaped him. "No debt this time. Let it go."

He reached for a medical kit resting on the seat, as if he'd anticipated every need. Their driver, catching on,raised the partition, leaving them in a cocoon of silence.

Alexia started to object. but Wayion's next command stopped her cold. "Take off your shirt

She stiffened, caught off guard. Are you going to check my injuries? It's nothing serious, really!"

Waylon didn't look away, his eyes steady and unreadable. "You can undress yourself, or I'll lend a hand.Your choice."

Alexia shot upright. "I've got it! I'll do it myself!"

Her quick reply drew a faint, almost teasing smile from him,tinged with the faintest disappointment.

Today she'd thrown on a basic button-up. As her fingers stumbled over the top button, she felt lucky that she'd worn a proper bra instead of her usual tape.

By the time she reached the last button, her hands had started to tremble, just enough to give her away.

With the shirt falling open, pale skin and a patchwork of bruises and cuts came into view-a silent testament to the violence she'd barely survived.

Waylon's jaw tightened, his features darkening. Just seeing her injuries made his chest ache with a cold,silent rage. What those thugs suffered wasn't nearly enough.

If it were up to him, Brandon would already be buried beside them.

Saying nothing, he cracked open the medical kit,soaked a cotton pad in antiseptic, and began tending to her battered skin with deliberate care.

As the cool liquid met her wounds, Alexia flinched,letting out a sharp hiss. "Ouch! That burns..."