Why Can’t I Escape This Man Chapter 13

Why Can’t I Escape This Man Chapter 13

Evan held an unopened coffee cup. His gaze swept across the entire office before landing on me. His face showed nothing-but the hand holding the cup tightened, knuckles going white.

Waldron, like a drowning man spotting a lifeline, scrambled over. “Mr. Chase! Thank God you’re here! This

new intern-she’s out of control! She hit me! She threw water on me! She needs to be fired immediately-”

“Are you done?”

Evan’s voice was flat, like he was asking about the weather.

Waldron blinked, caught off guard, his victim act still frozen on his face.

Evan didn’t give him a second look. He tossed the coffee cup into the trash with a dull *thunk*, shook out his

hand, and stepped forward.

He grabbed Waldron by his wet collar, pulled back his fist, and drove it straight into that sweaty, bloody face.

Then another. And another.

One punch after another-like he was beating a sack of rotten cotton. The only sounds in the office were the

dull thuds and Waldron’s fading whimpers.

No one dared speak. No one tried to stop him.

Waldron was curled into a ball now, barely audible through the blood and tears: “Wrong, wrong, I was

wrong…”

I snapped out of it and rushed over, grabbing Evan’s wrist. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. You’ll kill him. I’ve

already had my fill.”

His fist hovered in the air. His knuckles were bloody, scraped raw in places.

I panicked, examining the wounds. My chest tightened. “It’s this bad-does it hurt? Do you have medicine in

your office?”

His throat bobbed. “Yeah.”

I grabbed his hand without another word. “Then let’s go. Now.”

I pushed him into his office and pulled open his drawers, searching for a first-aid kit. My hands were still

shaking.

“Second drawer on the right.”

Evan leaned against his desk, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. The back of his hand was still

bleeding, but he didn’t seem to feel it-just watched me quietly.

I sat across from him with the kit. He held out his injured hand, knuckles scraped and raw.

My eyes stung. I dabbed iodine on a cotton swab and touched it to the wound. “Why do you fight like an elementary school kid?”

Evan didn’t answer. I looked up. He was staring at my face.

“What?”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile. “Nothing.”

I went back to cleaning the cut. The muscles in his hand twitched, but he didn’t make a sound.

“Hurt? I won’t laugh.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Fingers are connected to the heart. Of course it hurts.”

“Mm. Then it’s not my hand that hurts.”

Before I could process that, he caught my wrist. Not hard-but I couldn’t pull free.

“Rina.”

He said my full name, his voice raw, cracking slightly.

I stiffened. “Did you… remember everything?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“The night I saw that ring.”

That early?

I blurted out, “Then why-”

Why didn’t you come get me? Why did I wait so long and hurt for so long?