Pampered by My Secret Husband
Chapter 22: His Prey

Chapter 22: Chapter 22: His Prey

She bit her lower lip, took a few steps forward, and came before him.

Thomas Shannon’s gaze was like a sleeping lion sizing up the prey it was about to devour, filled with a fierce, predatory hunger.

Sophie Sullivan moved back slightly, only to have her wrist suddenly gripped tightly.

Thomas Shannon’s hand tightened, deliberately causing her pain. "Where are your shoes?"

"I lost them." Sophie endured the pain, her voice trembling.

Was he trying to crush her?

"What happened here?" Thomas Shannon’s fingertip gently slid across the red marks on her pale arm.

All of Sophie’s previous bravado vanished without a trace. As meek as a sheep, she said, "A mosquito bit me."

"Where did the mosquito bite you?"

"Mosquitoes in the flower bush."

Thomas Shannon sneered, tightening his grip on her hand even more.

"It hurts..." Sophie’s small, beautiful face instantly turned deathly pale from the pain.

"What were you doing in the flower bush, then, hmm?" Thomas Shannon knew she had tried to escape but insisted on making her admit it herself.

This placed immense psychological pressure on her.

He was like a patient hunter, methodically executing his plan, cruelly toying with his prey until it was dead.

And Sophie, at this moment, was that prey about to be toyed with to death.

Suppressing a pained whimper that threatened to escape, Sophie said, "Young Master, I know I was wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"I shouldn’t have tried to escape."

"Hmph," Thomas Shannon scoffed and released her hand.

Sophie’s face was already chalk-white, devoid of any color. She quickly gripped her throbbing wrist.

Thomas Shannon’s eyelids drooped, his gaze falling on the tea table. Sophie attentively took a cigarette from the tea table and offered it to him.

"Young Master, for you."

"At least you know your place!" Thomas Shannon held the cigarette lightly between his thin lips. Sophie turned, picked up the metal lighter, and carefully lit it for him.

Taking a deep drag, Thomas Shannon’s eyes narrowed. "Charlie River, how long has it been?"

"Young Master, ten minutes remaining."

Thomas Shannon caressed his well-defined chin, his voice laced with menace. "Time to warm things up."

"Yes, Young Master!"

Charlie River spoke a few words into his wireless earpiece, and the deafening music came to an abrupt halt.

SNAP.

Charlie River snapped his fingers. The women who, just a moment before, had been dancing provocatively against the men began to embrace them.

Sophie found the overtly passionate display nauseating. She turned away and threw up.

"Pathetic," Thomas Shannon sneered.

Her stomach churning, Sophie had no energy to spare for his taunts. After retching for a while, she finally felt a little better.

Having learned her lesson, she lowered her eyelids, fixed her gaze downwards, and focused on calming her inner turmoil, avoiding the sight of the appalling scenes before her.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Thomas Shannon meant by bringing her here.

It couldn’t be as simple as just making her watch these appalling scenes.

A hand reached out and forcefully pulled her, her body falling into Thomas Shannon’s embrace.

His sexy, thin lips curved into a malicious smile as he gripped her jaw with one hand. "Open your eyes and watch."

"Boring!"

"Boring?" Thomas Shannon laughed, his amusement cold and cruel. "There’s more boring to come."

His eyes darkened. "Charlie River, bring him in!"

"Yes, Young Master!" Charlie River replied, then gave an order into his wireless earpiece.

The tightly closed gate opened. Two emotionless men in black entered, escorting a man with a flushed red face who was struggling and begging for mercy.

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