Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

Chapter 136

Derek spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and lunged at Curtis with a fury that seemed to urge from the depths of hell. The two men quickly became entangled in a vicious brawl.

Derek was no pushover. Even though Curtis, in his blind rage, had the upper hand, Derek fought dirty. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a nearby table and smashed it against. Curtis’ back.

The heavy lead-free glass shattered on Curtis’ shoulder, drenching him with the amber liquid in an instant.

Curtis didn’t even try to dodge. Seizing the moment, he landed a solid kick to Derek’s gut, sending him crashing backward over a round table. His spine hit the table edge hard, twisting his face into an expression of pure agony.

Before Derek could scramble to his feet, Curtis was on him, grabbing his right hand, the one that had dared to touch Leanne, and twisted it backward with a savage jerk.

Derek’s scream was a piercing one. Curtis, with an iron grip on his collar, dragged him in front of the glass coffee table in the center of the booth, then grabbed his head.

“You should count your lucky stars I came in when I did.”

Before Derek could decipher the meaning behind those words, Curtis had already slammed his head onto the coffee table.

The whole piece of tempered glass vibrated with a deep thrum.

Derek’s head was ringing, and a crimson stream flowed down his forehead.

It was or

only now that he realized Curtis had left no room for mercy in his strikes.

He genuinely wanted to end Derek’s life.

Derek flailed with his left hand, grasping at Curtis’ arm in a vain attempt to push him away. But the muscles in Curtis’ arm were as unyielding as iron, immovable. He yanked Derek’s head back by the hair and smashed it down again.

from the corner of Derek’s mouth as his hands fell limply to his

someone handling a dead fish,

tempered

broken glass, his vision blurred with blood, unable to even

consciousness, he finally understood Curtis’ earlier words.

1/3

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Chapter 136

come in when he did nothing. Derek hadn’t had a chance.

Curtis would have left

with his shirt stained with whiskey and his nape cut by the broken glass, blood soaking his collar.

an antique tablecloth from a nearby small round table to wipe Derek’s

cloth onto Derek’s body and walked away.

muffled sounds of fists hitting flesh and the violent crashes, followed by the loud noise of shattering glass.

heavy footsteps approached her, and he enveloped

he said, his forehead pressed against hers, his voice a low

and seen her clothes ripped, crying out his name in despair, Curtis felt a breath-stealing pain in his chest.

away but had instead kicked down that

hadn’t come in or hadn’t heard her cry out

calmed himself,

up

and said,

the room, a tense and anxious crowd had gathered, hearing the chaos inside but too afraid

open. Curtis emerged, carrying Leanne in his arms,

covering most of her