The man's dark eyes were sinister, and he moved urgently, grabbing the scattered clothes from the floor and dressing her right there in front of the sofa.
While dressing her, he saw that her body was covered with bruises, a mess of purple and blue, utterly unbearable to look at. At this moment, he wished he could cut Angus into a thousand pieces!
His breath caught, and a twisting pain stabbed at his heart, making him irritable. His hands moved more forcefully until he inadvertently hurt Crossley, who moaned in her unconscious state, her delicate brows furrowing deeply.
Ose Owen's large hands paused, his sword-like brows furrowing tightly as his fingertips gently touched the bruises on the woman's cheeks. Her left cheek, forehead, chin—everywhere was marked with wounds, especially her cheeks, which were swollen and ghastly.
"Damn it!" The man cursed lowly, his anger exploding as he kicked the coffee table with such force that it flipped over.
