Marcus walked toward the window at the end of the corridor, took a drag of his cigarette and glared at Giovanni’s almost lifeless body on the floor. It was obvious that he was still fuming.

Millie rose to her feet, her lips caught between her teeth, a clear sign of her distress.

Marcus, having thrown his cigarette away, approached her with concern in his eyes.

“Are you hurt?” he inquired, his tone filled with worry.

Grasping his hand, Millie shook her head, her eyes lingering on his once-white shirt, now stained with the harsh red of violence.

Marcus was so fierce earlier; almost savage. Still, she understood that his rage had been fueled by his desire to protect her.

Marcus said softly,

Millie responded, “Okay.”

concern. Recognition dawned on him as he identified the battered man on the floor as one of the

let him

confusion. “Why do you want to keep

for this bastard.” With those words, Marcus turned and

lost in a daze of shock and fear. The day’s events had shaken

likely the mastermind

raced, the terror of what

was etched with fear and concern. A surge of anger took

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