Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?

Chapter 1222

Rage flared in Gilbert's chest. Instead of letting go, he tightened his arm and pulled Sherilyn hard against him, holding her in a fierce embrace.

"We're engaged. The wedding's already being planned... Can't I hold you?"

He didn't know it, but that hug was the final straw for Sherilyn's fraying nerves.

"Aaah!"

With a shrill, almost whistling scream, Sherilyn snatched up the lamp from the nightstand.

Without a second thought, she swung it hard at Gilbert.

"Sherilyn?!"

Gilbert's reflexes were quick; he jerked his head aside as the lamp came crashing down. Still, the force of the blow knocked him backward, and Sherilyn tumbled on top of him.

For a brief, breathless moment, their eyes locked. In Sherilyn's gaze, he saw a wild, furious red-pure murderous intent.

She was fighting him with everything she had.

In a flash, memories flickered through Gilbert's mind...

A long time ago, at the Neon Nights Bar, when Fred Miller had tried to take advantage of her...

That meeting with an investor, when Vincent had gotten handsy while she was with Caleb...

And the time a reporter chased her down, making her feel threatened and cornered...

Every time, she'd fought back like this—reckless, desperate, as if her only goal was to destroy her attacker.

"Go to hell! Just die!"

snapped him out of

real danger, Gilbert shot up his arm

split second later, with a loud crash, the lamp tumbled from her grasp and

for breath, shaken to the core. He couldn't even bear to imagine- if that lamp had landed

damned blood clot inside him ever

could recover, a sudden, crushing pressure seized

was

"Sherilyn..."

disbelief. He struggled for air, mouth open, but the only

"Sherilyn, let go!"

Her grip only tightened around his neck. For someone so slight, her strength was terrifying-and

Gilbert knew he'd die right here, right now, at her

one swift motion, chopped down

released at once. Her eyelids fluttered, and she collapsed

"Ah..."

Gilbert coughed and

He caught Sherilyn's unconscious

lay securely in his arms, not rolling to

shards of broken

thank

the floor.

blood. If she got cut and ended up with a scar, it would be even

there

།

waste any more time, he carefully got to his feet, cradling Sherilyn against him, and carried her out of the

clean up this

the car ready-we're going to the

...