Chapter 143: A Satisfying Punch
In her past life, during the bleakest, freezing nights around the campfires, April remembered Cai sitting in the dirt with the rest of them.
He had listened to the desperate survivors talk about how miserable life had become, how the elites who were born rich must have had it easy, acting completely like he was one of them.
He had nodded, sympathized, and blended into the shadows of the lower-class refugees perfectly.
But it was all a lie. He had just been pretending, hadn’t he? Because he knew those who were rich were looked down on, and left to fend for themselves because when they had money, they acted all high and mighty selfish and loathing.
But now that the world was ending, they wanted to seek refuge with the commoners?
She knew Cai had been smart but to think he had been such a hypocrite the whole time...
That was why he found no issue requesting that they vote to leave someone behind, when he was literally just choosing a bait to ensure his own survival.
A violent, uncontrollable tremble rippled through April’s body. Her eyes blazed with a sudden fury that completely incinerated her usual composure.
Naturally, Nat felt her shaking against his arm. Assuming the violent trembling was a delayed shock from the near-death experience of almost being hit by the sports car, his own expression turned utterly savage.
His veins throbbed against his temples, his grip tightening as he prepared to paint the concrete walls with the blonde driver’s blood.
"Sweetheart, hold on a minute," Nat growled, his voice a low, manic hiss of a promise. "I’ll handle this trash right now."
"Wait, Nat," April stopped him, her voice entirely flat, yet vibrating with an immense, suffocating rage. She reached down, firmly pulling his arm off her waist. "Before you do anything... let me."
Nat blinked, completely caught off guard, but he didn’t pull her back. He stood by the G-Wagon, his wild eyes tracking her as she stepped past him, marching directly toward the arguing couple with long strides.
The boiling rage in her chest was completely unquantifiable.
This was the man. He had treated her like an absolute fool, wrapping his betrayal in a gentle, necessary sacrifice, using her as raw bait when she had spent months being the kindest, most reliable pillar trying to keep their miserable group together. He had smiled through it all.
He was a lying, manipulative son of a bitch whom she had sworn to kill—and now, a beautiful, miraculous chance to get even had been bestowed upon her right in the middle of this concrete garage.
As April closed the distance, Liora’s head snapped over. Recognizing the brown hair and the sharp profile, her breath hitched violently in her throat.
"A-April?" Liora stammered, taking a frantic step back, her face instantly going pale.
Her wide, terrified eyes darted past April’s shoulder toward the back of the garage, where the terrifying statue of the Lord of the underworld stood like a dragon waiting to strike.
Her blood ran completely cold. "You’re..."
"Who?" Cai asked, turning around at the sound of Liora’s panic. He looked at the slender woman marching up to him in the dim lighting, his eyes sweeping over her form before he let out a low, arrogant whistle. "Who’s this hottie? A friend of yours, Liora?"
In that exact split second, April closed the gap, clenched her right hand into a tight, solid fist, and threw her entire body weight behind her shoulder, giving her all into the one punch that landed directly across his cheek.
The force sent Cai stumbling backward, his polished leather shoes scuffing loudly as he struggled to keep his footing, his face completely whipped to the side.
April let out a slow, sharp breath, the skin over her knuckles throbbing with a dull, but satisfying heat.
That was worth it, she thought, her fingers slowly uncurling from her fist. It was a drop of pure gratification in an ocean of unavenged history, though she knew it was still a pitifully small payment compared to the cold, dark mud he had left her to rot in.
Silence slammed down on the garage.
Staggering back against the hood of his sports car, Cai clutched his jaw, his face contorting in pure rage.
A toxic, ugly fury flared in his eyes as he snapped his head back around to look at her.
No one had ever touched him like this. To be humiliated in front of Liora by a random girl was a violent strike to his immense wealth-born ego.
"You crazy bitch—" Cai roared, his voice trembling as he instinctively threw his hand back, stepping forward to strike her back.
But his arm never came down.
Before he could even advance a single inch, a shadow completely blocked out the harsh glare of the sports car’s headlights.
April didn’t even blink or try to dodge his punch because she knew right behind her, a towering wall of immovable muscle was ready to defend her.
Cai’s breath caught violently in his throat, his raised hand freezing mid-air.
He stared at the vibrant red hair, and then his eyes tracked down to the intricate dragon tattoo coiling tightly along the man’s neck, disappearing beneath his collar.
The sheer, suffocating weight of the glare directed at him made the air in the garage turn entirely ice-cold.
Cai’s confidence evaporated in a fraction of a second, his blood turning to pure lead as his gaze locked onto those wild, manic eyes.
He knew exactly who this was. Every elite in the city recognized that terrifying silhouette.
The Golden Dragon of the underworld. Nat Collins.
Cai’s hand dropped limply to his side, his face going completely pale under the bruising cheek. His knees suddenly felt weak, the reality of who he had just almost run over—and who he had just tried to retaliate against—slamming into his chest like a physical blow.
"C-Collins..." Cai stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he took a frantic step backward, pressing his spine hard against the metal of his car. "What... What is the golden dragon doing here?" He muttered under his breath.