Facade of Love

Chapter 33 Wounded

Before I could react, I saw Benett’s wife pull out a tiny sharp knife, no bigger than a pen, and lunge at Moore and Idris. Moore was the first to notice her, and she screamed.

Idris reacted very quickly. Before the knife could reach him, he grabbed a hold of it. The handle was not long, and given his strength compared to the average woman’s, it was no challenge. He took hold of her wrist with his other hand. She instinctively let go of the knife due to the pain and was pushed to the ground.

As this happened, the cafe immediately descended into chaos, and the security personnel outside quickly came in, restraining Benett’s wife and then calling the police.

“Iddy, you’re bleeding,” Moore said, looking at Idris’s hand that was holding the knife handle. There was a distressed look on

her face.

I glanced over and saw that Idris was indeed injured. Although the knife was small, it was extremely sharp, and even with his quick reaction, Idris had gotten cut.

Fortunately, it was only a hand wound. I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Smackd! With reddened eyes, Moore walked up to Benett’s restrained wife and slapped her across the face, angrily exclaiming, You mad woman. We have no grudges against you, so why attempt to kill us?!”

Moore did not try to restrain her strength, and it left the woman’s mouth bleeding.

Moore, glaring at her and Idris with contempt. She

H

closer to Idris. Benett’s wife looked at me and said, “You have quite the tolerance. I wouldn’t be satisfied even killing these adulterers a hundred times over. If I were you, I would’ve cut them into a million pieces to satisfy

husband’s disgusting actions,

the police arrived, and after understanding the situation, prepared to

I called out to the leading officer, “Mr. Officer, wait a

few years older than me. He looked over and asked, “Is there anything

no name badge on, so I did not know what to call him. I simply said, “She killed her husband, and the b*dy should be in

startled, and so were the

were prepared to take Benett’s wife back to the station to await trial for assault with a knife, but after hearing what

information, the police had me accompany them. Idris was wounded, and with her face full of worry, Moore softly insisted on taking him to the hospital. However, he

never seen him so keen

did not want to pay any attention to him, but in the car, he suddenly looked at me and asked, “How do you

I replied, trying my best not to look at the wound on his hand. I really did

was a ghastly sight. He looked at me as if

want to look at his bloody wound, so