THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 165: At which the pain occupied...

Chapter 165: At which the pain occupied...

Tryson stepped into the car that had been opened for him, his movements slow and deliberate.

As the door closed behind him, the first thing he did was exhale sharply, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, and for a brief moment, he allowed his mind to wander through the chaotic events that had led to this point.

In the midst of his thoughts, a sharp, stinging pain shot through his hand, pulling his attention to the injury that had yet to fully heal.

The sensation surged under his skin, causing him to instinctively lower his head and stare at the crimson red blood that trickled down his palm. A low growl rumbled from his chest as frustration simmered within him.

His hand hovered for a moment, as if debating whether to reach for it, but before he could act, a sharp beep from his phone cut through his haze of pain.

His gaze snapped down to the screen, a frown creasing his forehead. The message that flashed on the display was from Angel. The simple, cryptic words "Come meet me" sent a ripple of surprise through him.

For a brief second, a sense of relief washed over him. The thought that Angel had reached out to him in the midst of everything gave him a glimmer of reassurance.

The blood on his hand, the pain, the situation he found himself in—none of it seemed to matter as much anymore.

Instead, the urge to meet her, to understand what this was about, completely overtook him. The injury, once a burning reminder of his struggles, now felt distant and insignificant.

"Let’s be on our way," Tryson muttered under his breath, his words curt and final as he read the message from Angel.

Without offering any further explanation, he waved his hand dismissively, signaling to his driver that there was no need for any more discussion.

The tension in the air felt suffocating, but as his mind raced through the events that had led to this point, he couldn’t help but reflect on the injury.

People would no doubt be concerned about it, and in truth, their concern was beginning to grate on him. But then again, wasn’t it only fitting that he should suffer for his actions? Wasn’t this a consequence he had earned?

With a deep, almost reluctant sigh, Tryson slowly extended his hand, his fingers trembling slightly.

His gaze lingered on the wound, the raw skin and jagged edges, and without hesitation, he ripped the piercing out from his hand. The instant it came free, a sharp, guttural cry escaped his lips.

The flesh tore away along with the metal, the pain flaring through his body like wildfire. He could feel the blood dripping, warm and relentless, as it began to pool on the floor of the car. The sight of it almost seemed surreal, the crimson stain against the polished interior of the vehicle a harsh reminder of the price he had paid.

He clenched his teeth, shutting his eyes against the throbbing pain that radiated from his hand. His body jerked forward, instinctively moving him toward the backseat in front of him, seeking some kind of relief, though none came.

His abrupt movements caught the attention of the driver, who glanced nervously at him through the rearview mirror. His concern was evident, but Tryson remained silent, his face a mask of stoic determination.

"Sir, do you need any attention?" The driver’s voice was tentative, laced with genuine worry, but Tryson didn’t respond.

The seconds stretched on in uncomfortable silence, and the driver, unsure whether he should push further or hold his tongue, wisely chose to say nothing. He swallowed his concern and continued to focus on the road ahead, the sound of his voice hanging in the air, unanswered.

After what felt like an eternity, Tryson’s voice finally broke the silence, low and commanding.

"Just make sure you head towards the destination I’ve sent you." His words were final, his tone leaving no room for argument or questions.

The driver nodded quickly, understanding the message, and shifted his focus back to the road as the car continued its journey toward an uncertain future.

Ignoring the pain that still surged through him, Tryson forced himself to raise his head, his gaze drifting out the window to the familiar streets.

The scene before him stirred memories of times long past, when he’d made the same journey, each step feeling like a deeper connection to this place, this part of his life.

The streets held their own quiet significance, a reminder of moments spent here, even if they were buried beneath the weight of everything that had happened.

As the car came to a stop, he couldn’t help but sigh, the familiar gate before him sending a wave of nostalgia through his chest.

The simple, unassuming entrance that led to Angel’s apartment was like a quiet marker in the chaos of his life. The one-story building, nestled in the heart of the area, stood like a symbol of something he couldn’t quite define. It had always belonged to Angel, and in that moment, it felt like a part of her that he could never fully grasp.

He stepped out of the car, his muscles aching from both the physical toll of his injury and the emotional strain of the situation.

His mind raced with thoughts of what had transpired, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, and yet the question that lingered in the back of his mind remained: What was he even doing here?

He walked through the familiar halls of the apartment, each step heavier than the last. The apartment building seemed almost unchanged, yet it felt foreign now, like a Chapter of his life he had almost forgotten.

When he finally reached Angel’s door, his heart pounded louder in his chest, unsure of what he might find on the other side.

It wasn’t just the possible involvement of Arthur that troubled him; no, it was the urgent need to see Angel, to explain everything from his side of the story.

He wanted to make things right, or at least, try.

His hand hovered for a moment over the door, his knuckles brushing the surface, before he knocked firmly. The sound echoed in the stillness of the hallway, and for a brief second, he stood there, uncertain. What would happen now?

Time seemed to stretch on as he waited, the silence amplifying every doubt in his mind. And then, just as he was beginning to wonder if she’d even come to the door, he heard the faint click of the lock turning. The sound of it made his heart race even faster. The door was opening.

It took a moment for the door to open, and when it finally did, Tryson stood frozen for a second as he met Angel’s gaze.

She was standing there, her posture tense, her eyes sharp as though she were ready to tear him apart with nothing more than a look. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, the weight of all the things they hadn’t said hanging heavy in the room. The silence that stretched between them seemed to say more than any words could.

Without a word, Angel stepped back, her eyes never leaving his, allowing him to step into the apartment. The space around them felt strange, like a familiar memory that had shifted just beyond reach.

He had once known this place so well, but now, it felt like an entirely different world. Tryson turned to explain, but before he could get a word out, Angel moved quickly, rushing toward him in an unexpected burst of emotion.

He barely had time to react as she threw herself into his arms, cuffing him with an intensity that took him off guard. His breath caught in his throat, and just as quickly, her movements shifted.

She stood on her tiptoes, her hands pulling him closer as her lips found his in a forceful, desperate kiss. For a moment, everything else faded away. The pain in his hand, the confusion in his mind—none of it mattered.

All that remained was the heat between them, the urgency of their touch, as they kissed, both lost in the intensity of the moment. It wasn’t until they were breathless, hearts pounding, that they pulled apart, both of them struggling to catch their breath.

Angel’s eyes met his, wide with disbelief, tears threatening to spill as she stared at him.

There was a moment of silence before she scoffed, the sound bitter, and in the next instant, her hand flew across his face with a sharp, resounding slap.

The force of it left Tryson stunned, his face turning to the side as the sting lingered on his skin. He could still feel the warmth of her lips on his, the connection that had flared just moments before now replaced with a raw, searing tension.

The silence that followed the slap was deafening, and Tryson could only stand there, his mind racing, unsure of what would come next.

The slap burned across his cheek, its sting lingering on his skin like a constant reminder of his mistakes.

Tryson growled low and fiercely, the sound escaping his throat as he let the heat of it slip into his veins. His jaw tightened, and though the pain from the slap was sharp, there was a strange clarity in it, as though the burn on his face was exactly what he deserved.

He had no right to be angry or to fight against it. The truth was, he needed that slap. It was the wake-up call he hadn’t wanted but knew deep down that he deserved. After everything that had happened, all the lies, the broken promises, the secrets he’d kept from her—he knew Angel had every right to lash out.

What she had discovered, the betrayal she must have felt, was enough to break anyone. Tryson couldn’t expect her to be anything but furious, devastated, and hurt.

If anything, he thought, Angel could have done worse. A part of him even wished she had, that she would let out all the anger and frustration that had undoubtedly built up over the course of everything he’d done.

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