Brenda would have backed down and run if not for Ross catching one of her trembling hands and yanking her hard into him.
"Got you," Ross said in a low, mocking voice, pulling her flush against his solid chest. Brenda gasped, her soft body colliding helplessly with his.
Ross lowered his head slightly, taking a long, deep breath, savoring the fresh, intoxicating scent of the mature beauty he now held captive.
Her perfume, mixed with the natural warmth of her skin, was irresistible to him. To Ross, she was no longer just Thomas's mother—she was a ripe, delectable prize meant solely for his enjoyment.
"Get away from her! Ross, I swear to God, I'm going to kill you! I'll—" Thomas shouted, his voice cracking with rage and desperation.
But before he could even finish, an invisible force slammed into his throat like a giant hand. Thomas choked, his eyes bulging, his voice cut off mid-roar.
He dropped to his knees, hands clawing at his own neck in a useless attempt to free himself. His face turned red, veins bulging as he struggled even just to breathe.
"Shut up and just watch," Ross said, his voice dripping with amusement. He shot Thomas a smug glance. "We wouldn't want you interrupting my happy time with your beautiful mom, would we?"
"Let me go!" Brenda screamed, her hands pushing against Ross's chest, trying everything she could to break free. But it was useless. His grip was like iron, unmovable and absolute.
No matter how she squirmed, kicked, or struck him, Ross didn't even flinch. Her struggles only made his smile widen, as if her resistance excited him even more.
For the first time tonight, Ross gave her his full, undivided attention.
And Brenda realized with a sinking heart that she was utterly powerless.
"This is all your son's fault, Brenda," Ross said, his mouth close to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "He dipped his hands into something he had no right to touch. He tried to take what belonged to me. And now... now you all get to pay the price."
Brenda shuddered, tears brimming in her eyes as Ross's words sank into her mind like daggers. Her son's reckless actions... had doomed them all.
"But don't worry," Ross continued with a wicked chuckle. "I'll explain everything... later. For now..." His voice dropped even lower, almost a growl. "Let's have a little fun, shall we?"
Abruptly, Ross released her.
Brenda stumbled back, gasping, her heart thundering in her chest. Without thinking, driven purely by survival instinct, she spun toward the door, desperate to flee.
But before she could even reach it, the door slammed open violently with a thunderous bang.
A towering figure entered the room—a giant of a man, easily matching Thomas's six-foot-five height but far more intimidating, with shoulders as broad as a mountain and fists like boulders.
His expression was cold, blank, professional. He was no ordinary thug—he was someone who had hurt many people before... and felt nothing doing it.
Without hesitation, the brute closed the distance to Thomas.
One step.
Two steps.
Three.
Then he struck.
A brutal, savage punch smashed into Thomas's face. The force of it snapped Thomas's head sideways with a sickening crack. Another punch followed immediately—then another, and another.
Blood sprayed into the air like a gruesome mist, splattering the floor and walls. Thomas's body slumped against the wall, barely conscious, helpless to defend himself.
A particularly vicious uppercut sent one of Thomas's front teeth flying loose. It hit the floor with a sharp, metallic clink, a small, brutal symbol of how far the once-proud young man had fallen.
"Stop!" Brenda screamed, her voice breaking from the sheer horror of it.
"Nooo!" Colleen shrieked, her hands flying to her mouth in terror.
But their cries meant nothing.
Ross stood calmly, arms folded across his broad chest, watching the savage beating with a small, satisfied smile. To him, this was justice. Retribution. Payment.
Thomas was nothing more than a warning now—a lesson for anyone else foolish enough to defy him.
The giant man finally stepped back, leaving Thomas a crumpled, bloody mess on the floor. Thomas gasped weakly, coughing blood onto the polished floorboards, every breath a struggle.
Brenda rushed forward instinctively, her motherly instincts overpowering her fear. She dropped to her knees beside her son, tears streaming down her face as she tried to lift his battered head.
"Please... stop this... please..." she sobbed.
The man walked slowly toward them, each of his steps heavy and deliberate, the floor creaking under his boots. He crouched down, his face inches from Brenda's tear-streaked one.
"You want my dog Brandon to stop?" he asked softly, mockingly. "Then you'll have to offer me something, Brenda. Something worth stopping for."
Brenda froze, her breath catching painfully in her chest. She knew what he meant. She could see it in his eyes—the dark hunger, the domination. Her heart twisted violently, torn between the instinct to protect her son and the revulsion at what Ross was demanding.
"You have two choices," Ross said, his tone almost gentle. "Give me what I want..."
"Or watch my good dog break your son, piece by piece, right in front of you."
Behind him, the giant cracked his knuckles ominously, ready for the next round. Brandon stood in silence waiting for a command from its master.
Thomas groaned weakly on the ground, his swollen, bloodied face barely recognizable.
"Time's ticking, beautiful," Ross whispered. "Make your choice."
The room seemed to close in around Brenda, the air heavy and suffocating. Her hands trembled. Her body shook. Tears blinded her eyes.
But deep down, she knew there was no real choice at all.
Brenda's hands shook as she cradled Thomas's broken face, her heart splitting with helplessness.
Her mind screamed to resist, to fight, to protect her son no matter the cost—but reality crushed those noble thoughts before they could take root.
She lifted her tear-streaked face toward Ross, shame burning in her chest.
"What... what do you want me to do?" she whispered, her voice cracking as she surrendered to the inevitable.