The Billionaire's Mistake (Anya and Daniel)



Chapter 246: Chaos

Mr. Reed blubbered incoherently, his words lost a torrent of sobs and pleas for mercy.

in Hazel's patience wore thin, and she twisted his hand, drawing, another apprized wall from his Hips.

“Jenny!” he finally gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Someone named Jenny called me, said there was an opportunity I couldn't refuse."

Hazel's expression hardened, her jaw clenched in silent fury. With one final, bone-crushing squeeze, she released Mr. Reed's mangled hand, letting him crumple to the floor in a heap of whimpering misery.

The investors cowered in the corners, too terrified to even breathe, lest they draw Hazel wrath upon themselves.

For a split second the room was utterly silent, the other men looking on in stunned disbeliedNôvelDrama.Org copyrighted © content.

"Don't worry, I have to beat a few of you and I will feel better," Hazel said with a cold smile.

Moving with blinding speed, she snatched up her oversized work tote and swung it like a mace, cracking one of the dumbstruck investors directly across the face. He went down with a strangled cry as Hazel whirled on the others, droplets of Reeds's blood spattering across her crisp blouse.

One of the men, some bald man in a ridiculously expensive suit, finally seemed to find his senses as he lurched toward the door, to escape. But Hazel was on him in a flash, grabbing him by the coiffed hair and slamming his head down onto the bar with a bone-crunching thud.

"How can you leave now? We just started," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

He crumpled to the floor, completely senseless.

Blind rage fueled Hazel's every movement as she lashed out with fists, feet, and any improvised weapon that came to hand. She smashed a rocks glass across one man's nose, dropkicked a crystal tumbler into another's crotch, even flung scalding hot coffee from the burner directly into the grimacing face of an investor making a desperate stumble for the door.

A slight mad laugh escaped her lips as she saw them struggle. She grabbed some back, throwing them into the center table, putting her hammer to good use and slamming down on their knees. Sounds of screaming rang out. Inviting Hazel's laughter to erupt like tiny bells.

Some made to subdue Hazel, but she was better trained than some beer bellied old men. She easily twisted them off her and slammed trays and glasses into their soft flesh:

The once-posh private lounge was rapidly devolving into a warzone of upturned furniture, shattered glass, splashes of blood and puddles of spilled liquor. Cowering and whimpering, the men shielded themselves as best they could with trembling arms and hands, but there was

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no reprieve from Hazel's unrelenting onslaught.

With a chilling laugh, she seized a heavy silver platter and swung it like a axe, catching a man directly in the temple and sending him tumbling limp and unconscious. Pivoting on her heel, Hazel unleashed a wicked sidekick into the breadbasket of the next poor fool, doubling him over before raining down a savage series of elbow st

until he collapsed in a gasping heap.

"Help!" some started to scream when they saw the pleased smile on her face. But they had specifically chosen this room because of the sound insolation.

"You could have been anywhere right now, but you chose to be here. I have had such a bad day, how can I tolerate you dirty old men who do not know their place?" she said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

Some started to beg, but it was no use. Hazel was already throwing anything and everything that moved or made a sound.

Finally, the relentless barrage ground to a halt as Hazel stood in the midst the devastation, chest heaving, muscles trembling with exertion and adrenaline. All around her, the motionless and moaning forms of Reeds and his deviant investors lay scattered about in twisted, undignified positions.

For several long moments, the only sound was Hazel's ragged breathing, punctuated by the occasional pained whimper or gurgling cough from the semi-conscious. She slowly turned in a circle, surveying the carnage with a look of grim satisfaction.

With a defiant sneer, Hazel snatched up her phone and hit record, ensuring she captured the inert, pitiful sight of Reeds laying in a crumpled, bloodied heap.

"I will be keeping this to remember good times."

A fresh surge of vindication washed over Hazel as she stood in the midst the shattered remnants of this opulent den of sin. Shards of crystal glittered in the low light like winking eyes, casualties to the righteous fury she had finally allowed to detonate.

She felt as though she had gone to the spa, distressed for some reason.

Not long ago, before Hazel had gone in, The moment Marcus' sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb outside the upscale nightclub, one of his hulking guards leaned forward from the backseat. “We're here, Mrs. Green,” he rumbled in a gravelly voice.

Hazel had walked over to the bouncers and was let inside. "I'll be right back. You wait here," she had said to them before making to leave.

The night was alive with the pulsating rhythm of the club's music, the bass line thumping through the walls like a heartbeat. Outside, Wolf's men stood vigilant, their expressions stern and uncompromising, a barrier between the seedy underbelly of the city and the world beyond.

Wolf's phone buzzed, and he answered it swiftly, his gruff voice cutting through the cacophony. "Boss."

On the other end, Marcus Green's voice carried a weight that demanded respect. "Where is she?

Wolf glanced at the club's entrance, the neon lights casting an otherworldly glow on the faces. of those in line. “Madam went inside. She said her boss called her in for an interview."

There was a pregnant pause, and Wolf could almost hear the gears turning in Marcus's mind." An interview? At this

hour?"

"That's what she said," Wolf confirmed, his brow furrowing. "But I overheard something else, too. Whispers about a trap, something about handing her over to some investors as entertainment."

The line crackled with Marcus's sharp intake of breath. "And you let her go in alone?"

Wolf's jaw tightened. "I had no choice, boss. She insisted, and I was not sure you wanted us to stop her."

"I don't care how she gets here, get her here," Marcus growled. "That's my wife in there, and if anything happens to her, there will be blood on the streets, Wolf. Get her out of there, and bring her back to me intact. She must return to me intact or else, I will have your head. Do

You understand?"

The threat hung in the air, palpable and suffocating. Wolf swallowed hard. "Understood, boss."

He ended the call and turned to his men, their faces etched with concern. "We're going in. Green's orders."

They moved as one, a well-oiled machine, brushing past the bouncers and security personnel with ease. Protests fell on deaf ears as they pushed their way through the throngs of revelers, their determination unyielding.

The clash between Wolf's men and the club's security was a brutal display of raw power and unwavering determination. As soon as they brushed past the bouncers, it was like a powder keg igniting, the air crackling with tension.

Fists flew, connecting with sickening thuds against flesh and bone. The security guards, though well-trained, were no match for the relentless onslaught of Wolf's crew. Each man moved with a fluid precision, their movements honed by years of experience in the trenches of the city's underworld.

Bodies slammed against walls, grunts of exertion punctuating the chaos. Wolf's men showed no mercy, their strikes calculated and devastating. Security batons were snapped like twigs, discarded like broken toys as the skirmish escalated.

The sound of bones cracking echoed through the club, mingling with the pulsating beat of the music. Security personnel crumpled to the ground, their defenses overwhelmed by the sheer force of Wolf's assault.

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