The Mesmerizing Man

Chapter 8

The wound ripped open again, but Michael Carter felt no pain. Half of his face was numb, or perhaps his entire head was fuzzy.

Thomas Scott's strength was no joke. Michael Carter felt like he was only alive because Thomas Scott had shown mercy.

There was a metallic tang in his mouth, probably from biting his tongue. The rhythm of his heartbeat was thrown off by the ticking of the clock on the wall, beating erratically.

"James..."

David Harris's face was pale. He had just taken a step forward and uttered a name when an ashtray whizzed past his ear and smashed against the wall.

The loud crash sent chills down his spine.

Cold sweat trickled down his temple, and David Harris clenched his jaw, not daring to utter another word. He could only glare at John Miller, who was looking on with a gleeful expression.

That bastard actually had the gall to play the victim! Was he trying to use his seniority to pressure them?

Thomas Scott's gaze was indifferent as he slowly crushed the cigar in his hand. The dark brown crumbs fell bit by bit, forming a small mound at his feet.

"Do you know why I hit you?" Thomas Scott asked again.

Michael Carter's mind cleared a little, and he quickly thought about how to answer.

Thomas Scott had called him here because of the incident with John Miller, but honestly, Thomas Scott wouldn't be this angry over something so trivial. There had to be something else going on.

How he answered, whether he answered at all, was a matter of life and death.

After swallowing a mouthful of blood and saliva, Michael Carter finally met Thomas Scott's gaze. He decided to gamble, to bet that Thomas Scott was just trying to scare him.

"I don't know," Michael Carter replied curtly, trying to suppress the fear in his heart.

Thomas Scott stared at him, his gaze as naked and bloody as a tiger eyeing its prey.

Michael Carter felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that if Thomas Scott slapped him a couple more times, he wouldn't die, but he'd be half-dead.

David Harris, standing to the side, was also panicking. He couldn't stop sweating, and even his back was damp. He was worried and blamed himself. If he couldn't even save his own brother, what kind of leader was he?

"Someone come here," Thomas Scott suddenly called out, and a few of his men entered. He glanced at Michael Carter and said coldly, "String him up."

Hearing those words, Michael Carter trembled. He had witnessed this kind of torture before.

They would tie the person's hands and feet, hang them upside down, place a large bucket of water underneath, and then interrogate them. If they refused to talk, they would dunk their head into the water, making them experience the pain of drowning.

"James!" Without a word, David Harris knelt on the ground. He would never let Michael Carter suffer this kind of torture.

However, Thomas Scott was a man of his word. Even though David Harris was kneeling in front of him, he just glanced at him and said slowly, "David Harris, if you want, you can take his place. Otherwise, shut up and don't test my patience."

David Harris clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and finally said, "Okay, I..."

But before he could finish, Michael Carter interrupted him. "No need, James, I'll do it."

David Harris looked at Michael Carter in surprise, but Michael Carter just nodded at him and didn't say another word.

Thomas Scott snorted coldly. "You've got guts."

As soon as he finished speaking, the men from before returned with tools and quickly tied Michael Carter up and strung him up.

Being upside down brought a strange sense of dizziness, especially with the wound on his face. The blood flowed down his forehead, making Michael Carter blink involuntarily, but the blood still stained half of his vision red.

David Harris wanted to say something, but as soon as he knelt in front of Thomas Scott, he received a resounding slap.

Thomas Scott rotated his wrist, and a subordinate next to him immediately handed him another cigar. After lighting it and taking a puff, Thomas Scott exhaled a ring of smoke and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Michael Carter, I'll ask you again, do you know why I hit you?"

"I don't know." Michael Carter clenched his jaw and started taking deep breaths. He needed to take in as much oxygen as possible before being submerged.

Thomas Scott clapped his hands. "Good, you've got guts. Begin."

"James!"

As David Harris shouted again, Michael Carter's head was plunged into the water. He didn't panic, keeping his eyes and mouth tightly shut, holding his breath as if he were diving.

However, he was just an ordinary person after all. After two minutes, he couldn't hold on any longer and was forced to open his mouth to breathe. Water rushed in, and the intense feeling of drowning made him thrash his body violently, but he couldn't break free.

All he could hear was the gurgling of water, nothing else.

After receiving a second slap, David Harris could only kneel there with clenched fists, watching helplessly.

At this moment, William Brown walked in. He glanced at Michael Carter, then walked over and kicked the iron bucket. "Get him out, get him out." After saying that, he walked straight towards Thomas Scott, gave David Harris, who was kneeling on the ground, a meaningful look, and then leaned close to Thomas Scott's ear and said, "We searched, there's nothing."

Thomas Scott paused, then gestured to the men who were carrying out the torture to pull Michael Carter out.

Michael Carter thought this was the end for him, but the next second, he was pulled out. He coughed violently as he was thrown heavily to the ground.

William Brown stood behind Thomas Scott, leaned over again, and whispered something. Thomas Scott's brows furrowed deeper and deeper.

"John!" After a while, Thomas Scott finally spoke.

John Miller, who had been enjoying the show, now had a look of doubt on his face, but he still walked over and called out eagerly, "James."

He was greeted with a swift kick to the inside of his left thigh, sending him flying and crashing to the ground.

"You dare falsely accuse your brother?" Thomas Scott said as he abruptly stood up from his chair and walked towards John Miller like a moving mountain.

"James, you've got it wrong! I didn't!" John Miller groaned in pain. If the kick had landed just a little bit off, he would be done for.

Thomas Scott stepped on the back of John Miller's right hand and said coldly, "I didn't want to get involved in your personal matters. You could have settled it yourselves. But you swore up and down that Michael Carter was a mole and even showed me pictures of him and his contact."

"What?" David Harris helped Michael Carter up, and both of them exclaimed in unison.

Michael Carter felt a moment of panic, but he quickly calmed down. He knew that Thomas Scott wouldn't torture him like this just because of a fight. So the person who had been following him during the day was really sent by John Miller?

Michael Carter's eyes darted around, and he immediately pretended to be enraged, lunging at John Miller. "Miller, you were trying to get me killed!"

Fortunately, David Harris held him back.

Thomas Scott glanced at him, then suddenly increased the pressure on John Miller's fingers with his foot. "I've already investigated. How do you plan to explain this?"

John Miller was in so much pain that snot and tears streamed down his face, his chubby body trembling. "James, James, I was wrong, I was wrong! I didn't mean it! It was my men who said he knew some kind of grappling technique, that he fought like a cop."

Thomas Scott's eyes narrowed slightly. It was true that they often dealt with the police. Although they rarely fought, they had seen how the police fought.

Thomas Scott remained silent. Michael Carter was also thinking about whether he had revealed any flaws that day. It was David Harris who stood up for him righteously. "You're full of s**t! Michael Carter has been with me for so long, how could I know less than you? I taught him almost everything he knows about fighting. Are you saying I'm a mole too?"

Anyone else who said that might be detained for investigation, but not David Harris. He had been in the organization for more than ten years, from the age of sixteen or seventeen to his thirties now. He had committed countless crimes. If he were a mole, the organization would have been destroyed long ago.

Indeed, Thomas Scott laughed. He wouldn't suspect such a blunt and reckless man.

But because of David Harris's interruption, Thomas Scott didn't pursue the matter further. He just took out a folding knife from his pocket and threw it on the ground. "Do it yourself."

Thomas Scott sat back in his chair and continued smoking his cigar.

John Miller lay on the ground, looking at the gleaming knife. He picked it up with his trembling right hand, the one that had been stepped on.

Betraying a brother, the punishment ranged from cutting off a finger to chopping off an arm.

John Miller's punishment this time wasn't that severe.

Accompanied by ear-piercing screams, John Miller was carried out. The room was covered in blood, trailing from where he had been lying all the way to the door.

Michael Carter was shocked, frozen in place for a long time. Firstly, he didn't expect John Miller to actually have the courage to cut off his own finger. Secondly, he was amazed by Thomas Scott's power. He could make a cowardly person like John Miller, who would cry and scream after being slapped twice, cut off his own finger.

The men quickly cleaned up the room, breaking the silence.

Thomas Scott stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray and stared lazily at Michael Carter. He was a different person from the murderous one just now.

"Go back if there's nothing else. Remember your place in the future."

He was reminding Michael Carter not to think he was above everyone else just because he knew how to fight.

Only then did Michael Carter feel a surge of fear. He glanced briefly at William Brown, who had maintained a smile behind Thomas Scott the entire time. He didn't know what William Brown had investigated or how he had determined that he wasn't a mole, but he had escaped danger this time.

David Harris bowed his head, pressing down on Michael Carter's head. "Don't worry, James, I'll teach this kid a lesson."

"Okay, go."

And so, Michael Carter was dragged out by David Harris.

Silence returned to the room. Thomas Scott dismissed the rest of his men, then patted his thigh.

William Brown, still smiling, walked over slowly and sat down, snuggling into Thomas Scott's chest.

Thomas Scott wrapped an arm around William Brown's slender waist, lifted his chin with the other hand, and kissed him. "Tell me what you found out."

William Brown took out a small box from his pocket. It was identical to the one Jack Thompson had taken from Michael Carter's house.

"They're just a couple, that's all. No talk of contacts or anything like that. I checked the kid's background. He's an orphan, both parents are dead. The funeral was just a while ago."

Thomas Scott remained silent, his fingers tracing circles on William Brown's waist through his clothes. After a while, he finally spoke. "We still need to keep an eye on them."

"Okay." William Brown had already unbuttoned one of Thomas Scott's shirt buttons with his teeth.

But Thomas Scott stopped him, his brows furrowed. "You've been drinking again? Didn't I tell you to quit?"

William Brown pouted. "Just a little."

Although he wasn't as handsome as Michael Carter, his upturned phoenix eyes always gave him a charm that didn't belong to a man. Thomas Scott liked him, so he indulged him in many things. However, they could never agree on the matter of drinking.

Thomas Scott was clearly displeased. He pushed William Brown away and said coldly, "Alright, I'm leaving."

"Not staying?" William Brown leaned against the desk and asked lazily.

"No, I promised Lily I'd go back and spend some time with her." Thomas Scott had already stood up and was about to walk towards the door.

Lily was Thomas Scott's daughter. She was five years old this year.

The smile on William Brown's face disappeared, replaced by a wry smile. He knew that Thomas Scott was angry about him drinking, so he had deliberately used his daughter to provoke him. So he played along.

"Spending time with Lily or with your wife?"

Thomas Scott paused at the door, then turned to look at William Brown. "Don't pretendto care. And cut down on the drinking."

"Really not staying?" William Brown propped himself up on the desk, toying with the box of condoms in his hand. "0.01, ultra-thin. Can't be more comfortable than wearing nothing, right?"

Thomas Scott ignored him, opened the door, and walked out.

Just as the door closed, he heard William Brown muttering to himself, "Guess I'll play by myself then."

William Brown meant what he said. When Thomas Scott reached the main entrance and sighed, turning back, he saw William Brown sitting on the desk, pleasuring himself.

Seeing Thomas Scott, William Brown's eyes were filled with the pride of victory.

They had been together for eight years, longer than Thomas Scott had been married. He knew him, knew how to handle him.

He beckoned to him. "Come on, I'm ready."

---

As soon as Michael Carter left the building, he couldn't wait to call Jack Thompson. He had been right, Thomas Scott had sent someone to investigate. But whether Jack Thompson had listened to him and gone out, whether something had happened to him, that was what he was most afraid of.

But he couldn't do anything at the moment. David Harris insisted on taking him to the hospital for treatment, saying that the wound on his face was still bleeding.

It was true. It had only been two or three days, and it hadn't healed yet. He had been slapped again and his face had been submerged in water. The doctor would probably scold him when he saw it.

He had no reason to refuse, so he could only follow David Harris to the hospital.

Fortunately, David Harris went out to answer a phone call, and he quickly took out his phone and sent a text message to Jack Thompson.

[Where are you?]