CHAPTER 155: CHAPTER 155

At that moment, Samuel’s head whipped toward the doorway, his hands still clutching at Cora’s shirt. His expression twisted instantly from the sick satisfaction of a predator cornering its prey to a startled, almost panicked scowl.

"What the hell is this?" he barked, his voice sharp with disbelief. "How... how did you get in here?" Immediately his eyes narrowed, searching Oliver’s face for an answer he wasn’t ready to hear. "What the hell do you think you’re doing here?" His tone turned mocking, as if trying to mask the sudden uncertainty creeping up his spine. "No seriously how the hell did you get in here?"

Without waiting for an answer, Samuel pushed himself off Cora and rose to his feet, his movements quick and tense. His eyes darted toward the corners of the room, then toward the open doorway, expecting no, needing to see the nine men who had been guarding the entrance just minutes ago. But the sight that met him was nothing but an empty hallway, silent and still, immediately his brows furrowed. His jaw clenched. There was a flicker of doubt, then suspicion, then a flash of something dangerously close to fear.

"Where the hell are my men?" he muttered under his breath before snapping his attention back to Oliver, his tone rising with forced bravado. "What the hell are you doing here?"

At that moment, without wasting even a heartbeat, Oliver strode forward with a cold, unwavering focus in his eyes. His boots thudded against the floor, each step heavy with purpose as he closed the distance between himself and the cameraman. The man froze, his hands still gripping the tripod as if holding onto it would somehow shield him from the storm that was approaching.

Oliver’s gaze locked on the camera first. He bent slightly, inspecting the small red light and scanning the feed settings. His sharp eyes darted across the display, checking every indicator. For a moment, his jaw tightened, prepared for the worst if this was a live feed, then the damage would already be beyond repair. But when his quick inspection confirmed it was only a recording, he let out the smallest, controlled exhale. It wasn’t relief exactly, but a slight lessening of the rage boiling inside him. At least this nightmare hadn’t already been broadcast for the world to see.

His eyes flicked to Cora. She was almost half-naked, her breathing uneven, the top of her clothes gone and revealing more than she should ever be forced to show. The sight made his knuckles crack involuntarily, fury pulsing through his veins like fire. But the fact that Samuel hadn’t yet crossed the final line gave Oliver a thin margin of calm. He would deal with Samuel soon enough, but first, the man who thought filming this was acceptable needed to pay.

Without another word, Oliver gripped the camera with one hand, lifted it from the tripod, and with a violent twist of his arm, smashed it down against the floor. The crack of shattering glass and crushed metal echoed through the room. He stomped on the remains for good measure, grinding the expensive equipment into nothing more than useless fragments.

However the cameraman barely had a moment to react before Oliver’s hand shot forward like lightning, clamping onto the front of his shirt and lifting him clean off the ground with one arm. The man flailed, his feet kicking helplessly, his breath coming in startled gasps.

"You think this is work?" Oliver’s voice was low, almost calm, but every syllable dripped with venom.

Then, without warning, he slammed the man down to the floor with bone-rattling force. The impact reverberated through the room, and the cameraman let out a sharp cry of pain.

However before he could even think to crawl away, Oliver’s boot came crashing down onto his chest with crushing precision. The strike was so hard that the man’s eyes bulged, and a wet, gurgling cough escaped his lips as blood splattered across the floor.

Then Oliver leaned forward slightly, his glare like ice.

"So, somebody will pay you money to destroy the life of another," he said, his tone steady but seething. "And you still do the same thing." His foot pressed harder against the man’s ribcage, pinning him in place. "You deserve to die because of that."

At that moment, Samuel’s entire body stiffened. The smirk that had been dancing on his lips earlier was gone, replaced by a thin, nervous line. Fear, sharp and cold, began to seep into his bones as his eyes darted toward the doorway.

"What the hell are you all doing out there?!" Samuel barked, his voice cracking slightly despite his attempt to sound in control. He stumbled backward a step, his hand twitching toward the table as if looking for something anything to put between himself and Oliver. "Security! Move in! Now! An intruder just got in! Are you all sleeping or what?!" His shouts carried desperation, each word more frantic than the last.

Because he knew Oliver wouldn’t be able to handle eight strong men, all by himself.

But the hallway beyond the door was silent, eerily silent.

Oliver stood there, his presence like a looming shadow, his expression cold enough to freeze blood. He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t need to. His words cut deeper because of how calm they were.

"You’re wasting your breath," Oliver said, taking a slow step forward. His boots pressed into the floor with deliberate weight, each sound echoing through the room like a countdown. "No one’s coming to save you."

Samuel’s breathing hitched. His eyes flicked around, searching for any sign of his men, but nothing no footsteps, no answering voices.

Oliver’s gaze darkened, and his voice took on a quiet, dangerous edge. "It’s just you and me now." He stopped just a few feet away, his stance radiating complete control. "Since you took it upon yourself to try and destroy another person’s life..." His eyes dropped briefly to Cora, who was clutching her torn clothing, trembling but alive. The sight made his jaw clench. "...then I’ll take it upon myself to destroy yours."

Oliver words made Samuel took another shaky step back, his voice trembling as he tried to keep up his arrogance. "You, you don’t know who you’re messing with!"

But Oliver’s tone stayed level, like ice slowly cracking before it shatters. "How dare you lay your filthy hands on Cora?" His gaze sharpened to a blade. "How. Dare. You."