Chapter 302

Julie’s POV

I stood rooted in my place for a succession of seconds that felt like a whole eternity, my eyes widened in genuine, paralyzing shock as I witnessed that towering, massive frame collapse utterly unconscious right before me onto the hard floor.

My racing, terrified breaths produced an audible rasp in the stagnant living room, and my heartbeat hammered with a feral, maddening violence inside my chest, as though desperate to break free from this suffocating psychic siege. I moved with trembling, slow, and hesitant strides toward the adjacent kitchen wall, extending my cold palm to snap the light switch, illuminating the space with a harsh, high glare.

The absolute darkness that had cloaked the corners of the perimeter vanished instantly, and I saw him lying with his full weight flat on his stomach over the wooden floorboards, wearing a thick black backpack heavily stuffed with items an object he apparently hadn’t found the time to discard.

I leaned down toward him with extreme caution and apprehension, grasping the edge of the dark hoodie with my trembling fingertips the fabric that completely concealed his features from me and slowly pushed it backward. The moment his pale face was exposed beneath the glare of the light, the blood completely froze in my veins.

His short, coarsely styled blonde hair emerged, alongside his sharp, prominent, and cruel features features I had seen and recognized exceptionally well before, and which had never once vacated my memory.

My eyes widened in a lethal, unbelievable bewilderment, and I automatically took a wide step backward, feeling my legs nearly failing to sustain my weight. Before I could utter a single coherent word, I let out a whispered, muffled scream that barely tore through my dry throat: "Jake!... Oh my God, is this actually Jake?!"

The man was entirely unconscious, detached from the world by the sheer impact of that punishing wooden chair blow, displaying not a single movement or sign indicating life save for the slow, heavy rise and fall of his broad chest.

What an absolute, sudden catastrophe! I leaned over him once more, sinking onto my knees over the floor near his head, and began slapping his cheeks lightly and gently with the tips of my fingers, hoping he would respond to my calling or open his eyelids: "Jake... wake up, please. Can you hear me? Open your goddamn eyes!" He didn’t awaken, nor did he display any notable motion or response.

My patience dissolved completely, and pure tension began devouring my nerves. I lifted my palm and struck him with a sharp, forceful, and punishing slap across his face a strike that produced a resounding echo and imprinted the crimson tracks of my five fingers against his pale skin.

At that exact second, Jake released a muffled, deep groan loaded with sheer pain, heavily parting his sharp blue eyes as though a thick haze cloaked them. He looked up at me with features blazing with unadulterated hostility, hatred, and a towering wrath as he gripped his jaw with his massive fingers, uttering a terrifying hiss: "You fucking whore!... What the fuck did you do to me?"

My entire frame jolted with immense agitation and resentment at his insulting label. Without a single thought or hesitation, I hoisted my hand and struck him once more with another slap even more powerful and violent across his other cheek to balance the scales. I spoke in a sharp, screaming, and raised voice: "Do not utter those filthy goddamn words to me ever again, you barbaric animal!"

Jake attempted to heave his massive weight up with heavy difficulty, bracing his palms and forcing his elbows against the floor. Every line of his cruel features clearly registered the marks of intense pain, contortion, and irritation from the back-blow and the slaps. He ground his jaws with excessive agitation, spitting his words out: "You treacherously strike me with a heavy wooden chair across my back... then follow it up with two slaps across my face?! Have you completely lost your goddamn mind?"

I swiftly bolted to my feet to distance myself from the perimeter of his reach, tightly crossing my arms over my chest in a defensive, hostile posture, stating in a pitch meant to defend myself and my sheer terror: "And why the fuck didn’t you knock on the exterior door like any normal human being in this world? You barged into the house in the pitch black, and I believed you were a thief or a murderer!"

He dragged his large palm over the source of pain on his back with helplessness, exhaling a sharp, scorching breath that filled the corners of the living room: "This is my goddamn house to begin with, registered under my own name... so how the hell do you expect me to knock and request permission to enter it?"

I shook my head in utter disapproval, disdain, and dissatisfaction with his sterile logic: "But you know exceptionally well that we are living and settling in this place right now at my brother’s request, and we didn’t anticipate your sudden, unannounced arrival!"

He forced his massive frame up with sheer strain a body that had clearly transformed significantly standing straight in all his towering height and bulk, physically dominating the space over me. He looked down at me from above with a biting, arrogant sarcasm, shrugging his broad shoulders: "My apologies, by all means, your royal Highness... I should have indeed knocked politely and waited out on the pavement to obtain your lofty permission to enter the goddamn house that I own!"

I knitted my brows with intense annoyance at his provocative attitude, stating with stubborn insistence to justify my position: "I already told you that I believed you were someone else... a thief or a killer slipping through the dead of night. I had no goddamn clue it was you!"

He anchored his sharp blue eyes like razors directly into the depths of my eyes in open defiance, his features shifting with a glaring mockery and disdain: "Believe me, Julie, there is no dangerous killer in this entire perimeter other than you specifically. To this exact second, my mind cannot process how you possessed the audacity to shatter that heavy wooden chair across my back with such sheer cruelty."

I cast my eyes down at the scattered, pulverized remnants of wood across the floorboards, indifferently shrugging my shoulder at his complaint: "Whatever, what’s done is done. We just have to buy a new chair as a replacement for the kitchen now."

He turned his head around the corners of the living room with boredom and irritation, inquiring in a dry, concise pitch: "Where is Steve right now?"

I adjusted my posture in my place, answering with excessive formality: "He is at his job at the restaurant. They have a massive rush today due to the weekend, so he will be exceptionally late returning."

I scrutinized the details of his face and body with absolute precision and zero embarrassment for a few counted seconds, then narrowed my eyes with suspicion, stating aloud: "Tell me the truth... did you actually walk out of those prison bars through legal means?"