The table cracked apart. The mirror shattered, raining glass across the van.
Callen groaned, curled on the floor. Blood trickled from his forehead, staining his cheek and dripping onto the broken frame. His body twitched with the aftershock, breath wheezing shallowly.
Kyra grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back. His scalp tore with pain, but her grip was unyielding.
Jace stepped closer. Each click of his shoes echoed sharply against the van’s floor.
Callen’s face twisted, eyelids half-shut, jaw clenched, blood spilling from his split lip. Every breath looked like a fight.
Jace leaned close, voice low. "My mother always told me to return twice what you received." His red eyes glinted menacingly. "So I hope you liked my gift."
Callen’s teeth ground together, jaw flexing. His body shook under Kyra’s hold.
Jace pulled his phone from his pocket. With one hand, he tapped the screen and tilted it so Callen could see.
Callen’s dazed eyes blinked, unfocused at first. Then the image burned into him.
Noelle, lips pressed to Jace’s. A kiss on the sofa.
His breath caught. He shook his head hard, blood scattering. "No... no..." His voice cracked, denial strangling him.
Jace’s thumb slid. The next image appeared.
Jace’s hand clutching Noelle’s breast through her clothes. Her face flushed, caught mid-gasp.
Callen’s whole body jerked forward. Veins swelled across his temples, teeth grinding so hard his gums bled. His chest heaved, breath tearing like an animal’s snarl. "You—"
But Jace swiped again.
This time it wasn’t a suggestion, but proof. Their naked bodies, tangled under a blanket, faces relaxed, asleep in each other’s arms.
Callen’s mind split. His scream tore out raw, throat ripping with the force. "I’LL KILL YOU! FUCKING BASTARD!" Spit flew, his voice rattling the van walls.
If not for the soundproof door, his roar would have carried across the entire set.
Jace flinched back with a disgusted sneer. "Fuck. My ears will burst. Kyra, shut this retard."
Kyra nodded. She wrenched his head higher, her grip digging deep into his blood-soaked hair.
Callen stiffened, his fury choking to a pause.
"Clench your teeth," Kyra warned, her gloved hand rising. "Or else..." Her tone was ice. "...you might die."
Then her hand cracked across his face.
His head snapped sideways. Darkness swallowed him for a moment.
But Kyra didn’t stop.
Another slap. His consciousness jolted back, eyes rolling wide in pain.
Over and over, the air ripped with each strike. Her motions were clean, precise, every downward swing heavy enough to tear the air.
Jace sat in a chair near the van’s door, legs crossed, watching like a spectator at a show. His grin stretched wider with each blow, eyes gleaming with a psychopath’s delight.
Blood sprayed from Callen’s mouth. His teeth rattled loose. His skin swelled purple and red, almost splitting. He coughed, choked, spat more blood onto the floor.
Kyra’s expression never wavered. Cold eyes, straight posture, her hand swinging with merciless rhythm. Each slap was so sharp that the air itself whistled and snapped before it landed.
By the tenth strike, Callen sagged, barely clinging to life.
Kyra’s hand lifted again—
"Stop, or he might die," Jace laughed, voice shaking with amusement.
Kyra froze mid-motion. She released his hair.
Callen collapsed, body thudding onto the van floor.
Jace rose and walked over.
Behind him, Kyra peeled off her blood-soaked gloves. From inside her suit she pulled out a fresh pair, sliding them on with quiet precision before tucking the bloodied ones away.
Jace stood before Callen.
He was unrecognizable. His face ballooned with swelling, lips torn, blood streaming from his nose. Teeth jutted loose, dangling. His once-proud looks had turned into a grotesque mask.
Jace smiled, satisfaction carving deep into his features. His eyes narrowed in cruel pleasure.
Callen coughed, dragging what strength he had. His voice rasped. "W-Wh..."
Jace crouched low, mocking. "What? I can’t hear you, retard."
"W-Why are... you... doing this to me?" Callen’s voice cracked, weak.
"What did I... do to... you?"
Jace’s smile thinned. He leaned closer, voice sharp. "Huh. Look at this bastard. You thought I wouldn’t know you filed a complaint?"
Callen’s battered body flinched faintly.
Shock flickered in his swollen eyes. "H-How... do you..."
Suspicion cut through the pain. "Did you... spy on me?"
Jace scoffed. His lip curled in scorn. "What? You think I’d waste money spying on a useless retard like you?"
Callen’s eyes fluttered, confusion swimming through the blood and agony.
In the morning, as Jace went to order breakfast, Noelle’s phone rang.
At first, he thought to ignore it. But it rang again. And again.
"Ma’am, are you in any danger?" a male voice asked.
Jace replied after a brief pause. "Hello. Ms. Noelle is taking a bath."
"Oh... then please let her know, this is Westbridge Police Station calling."
"Please wait," Jace said. "Can I know what the issue is? You started with danger. Is it related to some photos?"
"Hello?" Jace prompted.
A female voice replaced the man’s. "Sir, would you mind telling us your name, and your accurate relationship with Ms. Noelle?"
"I’m Jace Cromwell, producer and co-actor with Ms. Noelle Everhart," Jace said smoothly.
"I see. Sir, the complaint actually mentioned both your names."
Jace smiled faintly. "Is this about blackmail?"
"No. The report didn’t phrase it that way. For now, it’s registered as sexual exploitation. We’ll investigate further."
"I see. The one who filed it... must be a co-actor, right?" Jace’s smile deepened.
Jace smirked. "I have some documents to prove my innocence. Where should I send them?"
"Please forward them to this number. We’ll review and contact you within four hours."
Callen’s swollen face trembled. Shock, suspicion, and confusion tangled together.
Then Jace’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
He glanced at the screen, then at Callen. His smile spread cruel and wide.
"Well... why don’t you hear it yourself?"
Jace held the phone out. His eyes glinted with amusement, dark and merciless.