âGo to hell!â
Gifford stretched out his sharp claw and slashed at the manâs chest.
Bang!
A warning gunshot sounded.
Standing nearby was a cold-faced Zoe.
âWho said you could hurt him?â
Debraâs POV:
âZoe, what the hell?â
Gifford immediately stopped what he was doing as soon as the gunshot sounded.
Frowning, he turned to look at Zoe in confusion.
Zoe stepped in between him and the drunkard, reminding Gifford coldly,
âThis is Roz Town.
Whoever comes here must abide by the townâs rules.
As an outsider, you have no right to beat him like this.
â
Gifford sneered unhappily and glared at the drunkard who had tried to attack me, but he didnât interfere in the matter anymore.
The drunkard was bleeding all over.
He was at his Last gasp and clearly was no longer a threat.
âWell, I hope Roz Townâs law enforcement will take care of it.
â
Gifford helplessly spread out his hands in defeat and walked over to me.
We had made such a huge commotion out here.
After the gunshot rang out, a lot of people gathered around us to see what was going on
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Zoe called an ambulance and was busy dealing with the aftermath, so she had no time to talk to me.
Gifford Looked at me with concern and asked, âHow are you doing, Debra?
Are you hurt?â
I shook my head.
âNo, Iâm fine, thanks.
â
He smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.
I really was fine.
Gifford, on the other hand, was wounded.
His arm had been scratched by that drunkard when he rushed to save me.
The wound didnât look that deep, but it was still a little swollen and ugly.
I had no choice but to sigh and tell him off.