Chapter 5 - A Masterclass in Pain
Before Julian could even draw breath to utter another threat, my right hand shot up, trapping his wrist against my shoulder while my left hand drove a palm strike directly into the crook of his elbow, locking his joint into a painful hyperextension. With a swift, fluid rotation of my hips, I swept his lead leg out from under him and drove him hard into the marble floor. The impact echoed through the cavernous foyer as the breath was forcibly knocked from his lungs in a wheezing gasp.
He tried to scramble backward, his eyes wide with sudden, agonizing terror as he realized his wealth and corporate titles offered zero protection against raw, physical dominance. I stepped forward, driving my knee firmly between his shoulder blades, pinning him flat against the Persian rug while I gripped his right arm, applying just enough leverage to make him scream in agony without breaking the bone.
"Listen to me very carefully, Julian," I said, my voice dropping to a low, icy whisper that cut through his pathetic groans of pain. "I have spent my entire life dealing with warlolds, insurgents, and cowards who think power comes from terrorizing the defenseless. You are nothing to me but a pathetic bully who hides behind expensive suits and bank accounts."
"My cameras... everything is recording!" he choked out, his face pressed against the decorative wool rug, spit bubbles forming on his lips as he struggled helplessly against my weight. "You're going to prison for assault, Sterling! I'll ruin you!"
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"Let them record," I replied calmly, reaching down with my free hand to retrieve the heavy-duty military flex-cuffs from my belt. In three swift seconds, I had his wrists bound tightly behind his back, immobilizing him entirely on the floor of his own mansion. "Let the cameras capture every single frame of what a real man looks like when he stops a monster from beating his child. As for ruining me—you don't know who you just started a war with."
I stood up, leaving him writhing and cursing helplessly on the floor. I walked over to Sarah, wrapped my heavy field jacket around her shivering shoulders, and scooped her up gently. Without looking back at the pathetic, bound tycoon screaming threats from the rug, I carried my daughter out through the splintered double doors and loaded her safely into the passenger seat of my Silverado.
