Chapter 95: Wrath in a Tailored Suit
But being so blatantly extorted, Summer was no fool. “You say you’re not feeling well? I’m injured too. How about we both go to the hospital for a full check-up? As for all those random fees, if you don’t want to settle this privately, we’ll call the police and let them decide.”
The bald truck driver’s face darkened immediately. He hadn’t expected this delicate-looking woman to actually have a brain. If the police got involved, it was very possible he would be the one paying compensation in the end. His face turned an ugly shade of red, his fury boiling over. He raised his voice, roaring, “So you’re saying you’re not paying! I’m warning you, you hit my truck today. If you don’t hand over the money, you’re not going anywhere! And if you dare call the cops, I’ll kill you right now!”
As he spoke, he flexed his thick, bare arms in front of her, showing off sinewy muscles marked with ugly scars, the threat clear in his eyes. Just then, Summer’s phone rang. She instinctively took a step back and answered it.
On the other end of the phone, there was a man’s lazy, magnetic voice. He heard the rage and aggression in the truck driver’s shouts over the phone. His tone suddenly deepened, no longer as casual as usual. “Summer, what’s going on?”
Summer pressed her lips together tightly, her gaze falling on the bald man’s overly developed arms. “I… accidentally got into a car accident,” she said softly.
The bald man noticed her on the phone, his eyes widening with hostility. “Even if you call for backup, it’s useless! You should ask around who I am in the trucking world. One word from me. Pay up now, or I won’t show mercy just because you’re pretty!”
“Send me your location,” the man on the phone said, his voice suddenly chilling to the bone.
“Bloomfield Lane.”
Summer thought she heard the faint sound of hurried footsteps over the line. “Summer,” Fraser’s voice lowered a notch more, steady and reassuring, “get back in the car. Don’t speak to him until I get there. And… don’t be afraid.”
Summer had been holding herself together through sheer willpower, ignoring the pain in her body and the trucker’s raw threats. But hearing him say, ‘Don’t be afraid,’ made her chest tighten, and her eyelashes fluttered faintly.
In the next second, taking advantage of the bald man’s momentary distraction, she quickly opened the car door, slipped inside, and slammed it shut, locking it without hesitation. The truck driver hadn’t expected her to pull such a move. His face twisted with rage.
The man’s pounding fists shook the car with each blow, the frame trembling beneath his rage. At this much strength, if Fraser did not arrive soon, the windows would shatter from the force.
Suddenly, like a razor of wind cutting through the day, a Vertex roared down the road at breakneck speed. With an ear-splitting screech, the car braked hard and stopped dead at the curb. The door swung open, and a man stepped out. His long legs, encased in tailored trousers, emerged first, followed by a tall, lean figure that radiated cold restraint and authority.
Under the dim streetlights, he walked forward with slow, deliberate steps, the weight of his presence pressing down like an oncoming storm. The bald trucker froze at the sight of him. His raised hand hung suspended in the air, as if someone had nailed it there.
Fraser’s black eyes gleamed, two shards of obsidian flashing with an icy chill. Without breaking stride, he reached out, seized the man’s wrist, and twisted. Just a brutal, precise movement. The bald man’s arm snapped backward at an unnatural angle.
Before the man could even register the pain, his entire body was wrenched up and slammed to the ground like a rag doll. The sharp, unmistakable sound of bone breaking split the silence. “Ahhh! My arm! You broke my arm! You’re trying to kill me!” The bald man writhed on the asphalt, his face contorted with agony, howling like a beast in a trap.
Fraser did not spare him a glance. He bent down instead, tapping gently on Summer’s window. When Summer saw it was Fraser, her vision blurred for a moment. The string she’d been holding taut in her mind finally snapped loose.
She fumbled to open the door, but the second her foot touched the ground, her legs gave out. Before she could fall, strong hands caught her, steadying her as easily as if she weighed nothing. His palms were warm, his hold firm, drawing her frozen body into the heat of his embrace. His voice, low and rough, vibrated in her ear. “What happened to you?”
On the ground, the bald truck driver forced himself upright, one hand cradling his broken arm. His eyes burned with hate. “Who the hell are you? You broke my arm, you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you for this!”
Fraser’s gaze snapped to him, sharp and cold as a blade. The bald man’s feet locked into place. He couldn’t move. He stood nearly two meters tall, a mountain of muscle. But facing Fraser, who was dressed in nothing more than a crisp shirt and tailored pants, he felt himself shrinking, suffocated by an invisible force.
Fraser’s brow furrowed as his eyes fell on the red mark swelling on Summer’s forehead. The bald man’s mouth snapped shut. Terror swirled with his anger, his body trembling uncontrollably. His gaze flickered toward the Vertex parked by the curb, which cost tens of millions.