Syria’s POV
“Bennett!”
It was uncle…
He barged into the office with a group of his men, surrounding us without hesitation.
My heart started to pound so hard.
“Stop what you are f*****g doing!”
My uncle didn’t waste a second. He stormed forward and grabbed Bennett by the wrist, gripping him so tightly that Bennett’s knuckles turned white where he still clutched the gun.
For a split second, everything was frozen in place. I didn’t moved. I didn’t breath.
Bennett struggled violently against my uncle’s hold. His face was twisted in pure rage. His voice cracked as he shouted, “Let go of me, Father! Let me f*****g kill her!” His eyes flicked toward me, filled with something between hatred and desperation.
My uncle’s jaw clenched. He shot Bennett a look of disgust and anger. “I’m not go
