Her mind reeled in turmoil as she shouted through the door, âStop it! Stop it right now! This is murder! You bastards!â
Despite Nicoleâs shouts, the men outside only intensified their beating, paying no heed to her pleas.
Roscoe, typically able to handle a few opponents, was overwhelmed by the sheer number of attackers.
Once downed, the brutal onslaught prevented him from standing again.
Surrounded and outnumbered, he had no chance of defending himself.
Horrified, Nicole watched as Roscoe was repeatedly slammed to the ground, his face and head becoming increasingly bloodied.
Her anger reached a boiling point.
Turning around, she dashed toward the front door, determined to circumvent the building and rescue Roscoe.
But Jarrod, with lightning-fast reflexes, grabbed Nicoleâs arm and slammed her against the glass door.
Her face was pressed hard against the tempered glass, forcing her to witness Roscoeâs punishment, a consequence of her defiance.
She should never have pleaded for Roscoeâs safety.
The lingering resentment from their past conflicts in the mountains had only intensified, now erupting with ferocious heat.
âDo you see?â Jarrod whispered menacingly close to her, his voice low and threatening.
âAre you regretting your actions already? Doesnât this scene look familiar?â
He was referring to a previous incident where Nicole had watched Roscoe get beaten, separated by glass just like now.
But this time, Jarrodâs anger was even more palpable, his fury nearly spilling over.
He had lost all semblance of reason.
âWhy donât you ever learn?â Jarrodâs words came out as a growl, his teeth clenched in frustration.
He had always harbored a violent streak, which he had tried to mask for Nicoleâs sake.
Yet, once provoked, his aggressive nature reemerged, stronger and more uncontrollable.
Jarrod intended to teach Nicole a harsh, unforgiving lesson, ensuring she understood who truly controlled her life and from whom she must distance herself.
Pinned against the glass, unable to move, Nicoleâs face distorted against the pane, she pleaded, âJarrod, please, letâs not drag any outsiders into our problems, okay?â
âWho is âoutsiderâ?â Jarrod sneered coldly.
âAre you referring to Roscoe?â âIf he really considered himself merely an âoutsider,â he wouldnât be in this predicament.
Itâs your fault, Nicole.
â
âs BunnyBookery Jarrod taunted her, âYouâre the one who gave him false hope, didnât you?â He observed the scene outside with a sinister smile as Roscoe was beaten repeatedly.
âIs this what you wanted?â
Outside the door, Roscoe was left bloodied and beaten, his head and face smeared with blood, a gruesome testament to the violence he endured.
The men assaulting Roscoe were merciless, striking with such force it seemed their intent was lethal.
Despite the odds, Roscoeâs resilience shone through.
Every time he was knocked down, he fought to rise again, only to be struck down once more.
This grueling pattern continued.
Each time he fell, he mustered the strength to stand, refusing to surrender.
Witnessing this, Nicoleâs distress grew.
She shouted, âJarrod, this is all because of your paranoia! Youâll never trust me, no matter what I do, will you?â
âThen prove it.
Make me believe you, Jarrod replied sternly.
âYou know whatâs required.
â
âI donât know⦠I donât knowâ¦â Nicole sobbed uncontrollably, overwhelmed by despair.
Hope seemed to crumble all at once.
Every time she sensed a slight improvement in their situation, another crushing setback would occur.
Caught in this relentless cycle, she felt utterly defeated.
In a moment of sheer desperation, Nicole exclaimed, âYou might as well kill me, Jarrod! Just end this tortureâ¦â
âDo you really wish to die?â Jarrodâs voice was chillingly detached.
âAnd who would you like to die with you?â
Nicoleâs eyes widened in shock, her tears momentarily forgotten.