NOVPUB31: Chapter 31 Killing to Punish the Heart_1
31 -31 Killing to Punish the Heart_1
Carson Flores watched her with a smile, not at all intimidated.
After a moment, Samantha Tate opened and closed her mouth several times but ultimately didn’t bite down.
She defended herself with a hint of grievance, “I have a job too, okay?
I’m not some freeloader living off others.”
Curious, Carson asked, “What kind of job do you have?” 𝓷ℴ𝓋𝓅𝓊𝒷.𝒸𝓸𝓶
Samantha answered, “I own a beauty salon.
I offer beauty and maintenance services to mid-to-high-end clients.
Business is pretty good.”
Carson chuckled, “Alright, I was narrow-minded!
There is still something commendable about you…
”
This remark was clearly not a compliment, but Samantha felt a surprising sense of validation upon hearing it.
“Hmph!”
In the face of Samantha’s haughty demeanor, Carson just smiled and didn’t respond.
This woman is quite interesting.
Usually, a rich young lady like her would have gotten angry with how he confronted her by now.
A cool breeze brushed their faces, and the sunlight was warm.
A lone man and a single woman, the atmosphere was just right!
Ethan down at the foot of the mountain was practically bursting with rage.
He saw Samantha clinging tightly to Carson out of fright, her birdlike dependence on Carson’s arm, and the two of them sitting together, chatting and laughing…
The person by Samantha’s side should have been him.
Yet now, another had taken his place, and he had become nothing more than a spectator!
He couldn’t let this continue!
Otherwise, even if he did win her over in the end and made Samantha his wife, this afternoon’s events would remain a thorn in his side!
“Darian Marshman, later on, provoke him and take him out!” he commanded.
Darian Marshman nodded, “Got it!”
The barbecue was almost ready, and Ethan started calling everyone over.
The relaxed pair on the summit finally stood up, leisurely making their way down the mountain.
“You two sure know how to take it easy.
While we bust our butts off, you’re up there enjoying the scenery…”
Samantha said with a giggly smile, “Well, wasn’t that what you said?
Whoever runs ahead gets to play lord and doesn’t have to do anything.”
Ethan’s face stiffened, and he nearly slapped himself.
Talk about putting your foot in your mouth!
Mentioning the very thing that irritates you, bringing trouble onto yourself!
“That’s right, you deserve it.
Come on, have some barbecue, drink some wine!”
The group gathered and began their lunch.
Samantha’s acting skills resurfaced as she proactively opened Carson’s wine, poured it for him, and fed him skewers of meat.
She was so affectionate that even Carson’s discreet gestures for her to tone it down went ignored.
The mood on the scene immediately became delicate, and the young men and women from wealthy families looked on with expectation, frequently glancing at Ethan.
Ethan was seething inside and signaled to Darian Marshman.
Darian raised his beer, “Carson, let’s drink, just you and I.
We’re both former soldiers, after all.
Let’s each down a can alone!”
Carson didn’t refuse and drank a can along with Darian.
After finishing the beer, Darian squeezed the can with one hand until it was crushed into an aluminum ball.
“Carson, since we’re free, let’s have a little sparring match.”
Before Carson could reply, the crowd around them was already egging them on, all eyes eagerly fixed on Carson.
Samantha frowned, “We haven’t even had our fill yet, what’s with the sparring?
What kind of bad habit is this?”
Ethan laughed, “Both of them are former soldiers.
Sparring is quite normal, isn’t it?
Don’t worry, we’re just watching the fun.
But Darian, you’re an elite; make sure to pull your punches.”
Darian gave a sly grin, stood up, walked to an open space, and waved at Carson to come over.
Samantha put down her chopsticks, ready to stand up and berate them, but Carson suddenly stood up, placed his hand on her shoulder, and said with a smile, “Fine, let’s play.”
Samantha turned her head to look at him, her eyes filled with concern.
Carson just smiled and patted her shoulder reassuringly.
Carson approached Darian, smiling, “Let’s start.”
“Be careful!”
With a shout, Darian charged at Carson, swinging his elbow towards Carson’s face in a backward motion.
Carson shrank his shoulder and raised his left arm.
Their collision, Darian’s elbow against Carson’s left arm, emitted a dull thump.
Carson stood as steady as a mountain, while Darian took a step back, his eyes filled with surprise.
His elbow strike should have shattered a stack of bricks, yet Carson didn’t even flinch?
Biting back the pain, Darian charged once more, executing a Flying kick followed by a sweeping leg, targeting Carson’s shin.
Carson’s eyes glinted frostily as the kick came toward him.
It was fierce and powerful, aimed at the most vulnerable part of his shin.
It was clearly intended to break Carson’s leg in one swift move, to incapacitate him.
Carson didn’t dodge; instead, he suddenly lashed out with his right leg.
Their legs collided mid-air.
“Bang!”
“Argh!”
Darian let out a painful cry, his body swaying as he fell to the ground, his face twisted in agony.
His right leg curled up as if he were a dog that had its leg broken.
Carson retracted his leg, smiling, “You were too harsh with that kick just now.
If I hadn’t reacted, my shin would probably be broken…
Are you okay?
I already held back, it was only because you kicked too hard…”
Darian looked at Carson, who seemed unaffected, with a mix of fear and shock in his eyes.
Both had kicked each other’s shins, but while Darian’s leg was nearly broken, Carson appeared completely fine?
Struggling to rise, Darian cautiously put his right foot down, showing that his shin had been injured and couldn’t bear weight.
Darian forced a smile, “It’s nothing, just sparring, that’s normal.”
Carson knew too well that even though Darian’s shin wasn’t broken, it was likely fractured—a bit of a lesson for him.
“So do we continue?” Carson asked.
Darian was incredibly embarrassed.
With everyone watching, the outcome was obvious, wasn’t it?
Asking that question was like adding insult to injury!
Darian’s face turned beet red.
He didn’t want to admit defeat, but what could he do if he didn’t?
Charge into battle again?
Barely able to stand, would he bite with his teeth, or spit saliva?
