Chapter 52
reston clasped Georgia’s ice–cold hand in his large, blood–smeared palm. For a fleeting moment, the rage boiling in his chest eased into a simmer. The murderous fury clawing at his ribs calmed under the fragile contact of her skin against his. Warmth bloomed through his veins, a warmth he could neither explain nor suppress. It melted away the suffocating blackness that had clouded his mind moments earlier.
He didn’t know how long he knelt there, drenched in the remnants of water and blood, clutching her limp hand. Time felt like a stagnant void until her body twitched faintly. Then a cough burst from her lips, wet and guttural, followed by another, harsher one. Water dribbled down her chin as she gagged, the sound rattling through her chest like stones in a jar.
Slowly, Georgia’s heavy eyelids fluttered open. Her vision swam in a haze of pain and exhaustion, blurring the dim lights overhead and the face that hovered above her. Her chest burned with raw agony, each breath slicing through her throat like broken glass. She parted her chapped lips and murmured something almost inaudible, her voice hoarse and trembling.
“Money.”
Preston froze, leaning closer, his bloodshot eyes narrowing with desperate hope. “What did you say?”
Her cracked lips moved again, barely forming the syllables. “Mr. Talon… my money.”
The room fell into an eerie silence, so absolute it felt like the world itself had been muted. For an endless second, everything halted. Even the dripping water seemed to suspend mid–air.
The raw relief that had softened Preston’s gaze vanished in an instant, replaced by an impenetrable chill. His eyes. hardened, and his jaw tightened as he pulled away slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was carved from cold stone.
“How much?”
“Mr. Talon,” she rasped, her eyes barely focusing as her fingers twitched weakly in his grip, “you promised… four hundred thousand dollars., for my performance,”
Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading! Preston watched her in silence, his dark gaze
vision, the aura radiating from the figure before her calmed the thundering panic in her chest. She couldn’t see him clearly, but her battered soul clung to the warmth of his presence.
“Four hundred thousand dollars,” he repeated flatly, his voice stripped of all emotion. His right hand curled into a blood- slick fist by his side. “You shall have it.”
Before she could react, a sharp pain lanced through her chin as strong fingers tilted her face upward. Her bleary eyes focused on the striking features looming above her–sharp jawline, fierce brows, those obsidian eyes now cold and bottomless.
“Look closer,” Preston commanded, his voice low and dangerous. “Who am I?”
The familiar tone, the piercing authority behind his words, sliced through her confusion like a blade. Awareness flickered across her features. Her breath caught as realization struck. “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here?” Preston’s lips curled into a cruel, mirthless smile. “You’re asking me? Don’t you know it’s one of my greatest pleasures to watch you suffer?”
Lorenzo stood nearby, his eyes fixed on the ragged remnants of Preston’s sleeve, still dripping blood onto the soaked marble. He couldn’t comprehend why Preston lied so effortlessly. He had watched his Alpha descend into unhinged desperation trying to save Georgia. Yet now, Preston wore indifference like a mask of iron.
With a dismissive flick of his wrist, Preston released her chin, the motion almost contemptuous. He rose to his full imposing height, towering over her trembling form. His gaze slid over her like a blade, void of any warmth.
“Get up,” he ordered, his voice echoing off the ruined walls. “Come with me if you’re not dead.”
Lorenzo hesitated as he watched Georgia struggle to lift her battered body from the sofa. The woman before him was no longer the proud, radiant Georgia of three years ago. She looked broken, soaked hair plastered to her hollow cheeks, her thin frame wracked with tremors. Compassion prickled at his chest, and he stepped forward to help her.
“Can’t she walk?”
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<Chapter 52
Meni
Preston’s icy glare cut into him with such ferocity that Lorenzo’s muscles locked in terror. His hand froze mid–reach, and he silently stepped back, his gaze dropping to the wet floor in submission.
Georgia met Preston’s cold stare with her own dull eyes. She braced her trembling arms against the couch, her joints screaming in protest. Pain shot up her spine as she forced herself upright, each movement slow and labored. To the onlookers, her struggle seemed exaggerated, almost theatrical. She was alive–there was no reason for her to move like dying woman. Even Lorenzo felt his brief sympathy sour into scorn.
Preston watched with a blank expression as she wobbled to her feet, his voice devoid of any trace of pity. “Did you break your leg?”
Her fingers tightened around the sofa cushion for support, her knuckles whitening. Then, silently, she let go. With a clenched jaw and trembling resolve, she followed him across the wrecked room.
She halted suddenly before Titus, planting herself firmly in front of him. With shaking fingers, she extended her hand, palm
- up.
Titus blinked, confused by her silent demand. Preston paused behind her, observing the interaction with cold detachment, his dark eyes narrowed.
‘Georgia’s breathing rattled in her chest. She pressed her cracked lips together, glaring at Titus with unwavering focus. Her outstretched hand trembled, but she did not lower it.
Titus’s disheveled appearance starkly contrasted the elegant persona he had displayed earlier. His once–slicked hair now hung in wet clumps against his forehead. Water dripped from his designer suit, and his gold–rimmed glasses slid down his nose, smudged and askew. He looked every bit the pitiful figure of a man stripped of dignity by disaster.
“Georgia,” he stammered, blinking at her pale, furious face. “What do you mean?”
“The money,” she croaked, her voice raw and grating like rusted metal. “Mr. Talon… the four hundred thousand dollars you promised me.”
His eyes widened, flickering nervously to Preston’s looming silhouette. He fumbled for his wallet with wet, trembling fingers. His checkbook was soaked through, useless. Panic flashed in his eyes as he pulled out a damp credit card, his hands shaking.
“Miss Cooper. my checkbook is ruined. Take the card.”
Before he could place it in her palm, Preston’s voice cracked like a whip across the room.
“She’s bold enough to ask for her money,” he drawled, venom lacing every word. “But how dare you give it to her?” Titus’s hands jerked violently. He looked up at Preston with wide, fearful eyes. “Alpha Preston… are you saying I shouldn’t pay Miss Cooper?” His voice trembled with confusion and terror. He knew exactly what Preston meant, but he couldn’t accept it without confirmation.
Preston didn’t bother glancing at Titus. His silence was confirmation enough.
The devastation etched across Georgia’s face was stark and unfiltered. Her body tensed with a surge of indignant rage as she whirled around to face Preston, her voice breaking as she shouted, “Who gave you the right? I earned that money!! almost died for it! Mr. Hill, you have no right to take it away from me!”
She was shaking so hard her knees nearly gave way, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Her anger scorched through her, momentarily burning away the haze of fear that had clouded her mind.
Preston’s lips curved into a cold smile, His obsidian eyes glittered with silent fury as he stepped forward, towering over her trembling figure.
“Good question,” he murmured. His gaze burned holes into her soul, cutting deeper than any blade. “It is my order.”
“It’s my money,” she whispered, her voice quivering with desperation. Tears pooled in her lashes, threatening to spill. She swallowed them down with a trembling breath. “I deserve it.”
Her shoulders shook as she lowered her head. Don’t cry, Georgia, she ordered herself silently, clenching her fists tighter. You’ve survived worse. This is nothing. There is nothing left worth your tears. Not Maya, Not Preston. Nothing.
< Chapter 52
Preston’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper, each word striking her like the crack of al whip.
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“Your money? Do you deserve it?” He tilted his head slightly, watching her crumple beneath his words. “If everyone received what they deserved, there would be no such thing as wasted effort. And you… do you deserve anything more than doom?”
She lowered her gaze to the floor, staring at her bare, filthy feet.
Preston’s voice cut through her silent despair like a jagged blade. Tll answer your question now,” he said coldly. “This is Vetro Club. Here, I call the shots. And the reason is simple.”
He leaned down, his lips curling into a sneer as his final words slipped out like poison.
“Your life isn’t worth four hundred thousand dollars.”
