Vincent finally stopped. Klaus spat out blood, sliding to the floor, bleeding all over. His breath was ragged.
"I'm sorry," he breathed, groaning at the intense pain surging through him.
Two or three ribs were probably broken from the brutal hits. Blood trickled down his lips and nose. He was a mess, marred with his own blood and bruises.
"Get out before I kill you. And stay the fûck away from her," Vincent growled.
Sucking in a breath, Klaus forced himself up. Vincent clenched his fists, tears falling from his eyes as his best friend staggered past him.
Klaus gripped the table for support, his gaze meeting Morticia's, who was in tears.
"Klaus," she mouthed, her lips trembling.
"Don't worry about me," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'll get myself treated and reach out... I promise."
