Chapter 225 Sophie Winslow, Hug Me

Chapter 225: Chapter 225: Sophie Winslow, Hug Me

Tristan Thorne walked over to the bed and bent down. "Trying to leave without even eating? Then I don’t have that much patience left."

He had originally planned to take his time with Sophie Winslow; he was bound to get his hands on her tonight anyway. But she had blatantly rejected him and was trying to leave? That took all the fun out of it.

Sophie’s eyes were icy. Her upper teeth bit into her lip so hard she nearly broke the skin, using the pain to keep herself alert. Some strength seemed to have returned to her limbs.

Taking advantage of the brief moment Tristan turned to flick his cigarette ash into the ashtray, Sophie seized her chance. Refusing to give up on saving herself, she summoned the strength she had been gathering, scrambled off the bed, and slammed into him from behind with all her might.

Holding her breath, she bolted for the door. She couldn’t rely on anyone, and she would never give up on saving herself.

Fortunately, Tristan hadn’t bound her hands and feet.

The very second her fingers brushed the doorknob, a hand clamped down on her arm, yanking her back. The man embraced her from behind, his smile gentle. "So reluctant? Then let’s do this the adult way."

To him, Sophie was no different from a fish on a chopping block. Her struggles only added to the thrill.

Sophie’s eyes reddened. She was furious, enraged, and filled with blinding hatred. Extreme panic also gripped her, but she refused to show her fear.

As Tristan dragged her back, they passed a bag of golf clubs. Spotting the opportunity, she violently yanked one out and swung it backward as if her life depended on it.

Tristan hadn’t expected her to be so fierce. Caught off guard, he took a hard blow to the arm, the impact sending a jarring pain straight to the bone.

His gentlemanly facade shattered. His face darkened as he seized her by the throat and pinned her to the carpet. "Madam Sterling said you’ve been married and thoroughly ruined, so why are you playing the chaste virgin with me? Sophie, you’re the one who refused to play nice."

His patience utterly exhausted, Tristan snatched the golf club from her grip and used his free hand to tear at her shirtdress.

With her throat caught in a vice grip and her oxygen running out, Sophie turned her head to look at the phone that had fallen near her hand. She struggled to reach for it, unlocked it with ease, and opened the call log.

She stared at the unanswered call she had made not long ago—Julian Sterling. He hadn’t answered her call. Just like now, she couldn’t rely on him.

Her vision blurred from the choking, but she didn’t redial Julian’s number. She wouldn’t force a plea to someone who wouldn’t respond or offer her sanctuary.

Instead, she struggled to dial the emergency number.

Tristan noticed her movements. Seeing her making a call, he sneered, cruelly snatched the phone away again, and tossed it across the room.

He leaned down and pointed. "Do you see that? There’s a camera over there. If you don’t want your time in bed broadcast to the public, you’d better quiet down."

Tears welled in Sophie’s eyes from the pain and lack of oxygen as she looked in that direction. A hoarse roar ripped from her throat. "Scumbag...!"

In the next second, gathering every last ounce of her strength, Sophie jerked her head up and smashed her forehead brutally against his.

Tristan instantly recoiled in agony, seeing stars from the pain. Hot on the heels of the pain came unbridled rage.

Ignoring the throbbing in his head, he lunged forward again, pinning Sophie down with savage force, his movements to rip her shirtdress even more barbaric. "Bitch!"

Already weakened by the drug and her desperate headbutt, Sophie had completely spent her strength. A sudden surge of profound grief welled up inside her as she watched helplessly while Tristan popped the buttons of her shirtdress.

At that moment...

BANG!

A deafening crash echoed from the door. It felt like an earthquake, shattering Sophie’s despair and forcing Tristan to freeze. He stared at the door in astonishment.

BANG!

BANG BANG!

Something was battering the door with a ferocity that felt as though it could chisel right through the wall. The apocalyptic violence of the blows made Tristan’s face pale drastically. With every thunderous thud, his heart hammered wildly against his ribs, as if the strikes were landing directly on his own body.

Sophie’s vision was blurry. Hair disheveled, she turned her head to look at the precarious door that was on the verge of giving way.

Finally.

CRASH!

With the sharp sound of something snapping, the door burst open.

A tall figure charged in, backlit by the hallway lights, making it impossible for her to see his face clearly. She barely had time to react before Tristan, who was strangling her, was violently hurled to the ground.

The very next second, a warm coat was thrown over Sophie, covering her head and her torn upper half. The familiar faint scent instantly calmed her down.

Tristan had no chance to fight back. Julian kicked him to the floor. His handsome face was devoid of any emotion as he grabbed Tristan by the collar and raised his fist. One, two, three punches.

Flesh met bone.

The ruthless force behind the blows nearly beat Tristan unconscious. His nasal bone fractured, and blood smeared across his face.

Julian remained expressionless, yet his movements didn’t stop. He couldn’t care less whether Tristan had already blacked out.

Sophie slowly pulled the coat down and stared at the scene in shock.

She had never seen Julian get violent, let alone witness such a ruthless side of him. He was always so aloof and unreachable, seemingly holding nothing in his regard; even his coldness was masked by an elegant upbringing.

Clutching her collar, she sat up and called out, "Julian."

He didn’t hear her.

Sophie called out again, "Julian, you’re going to beat him to death."

The back muscles that were taut from throwing punches paused for a brief fraction of a second, but then his fist rained down once more.

When Evan York rushed over with the room key, this was the scene he walked into. The custom lock on the immensely expensive door had been brutally smashed apart.

He and Julian had initially split up; Evan went to get the keycard while Julian headed upstairs first to find her. But in that short span of time, Julian hadn’t waited. He had grabbed a heavy brass ornament from the hallway and literally battered the door down.

Tristan’s face was already beaten into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp. He was completely unconscious.

Evan glanced at Sophie. Her hair was a mess, her clothes disheveled, her face pale, and there were even strangulation marks on her neck. His heart gave a violent jolt.

Unable to worry about anything else, he quickly stepped forward and grabbed Julian. "If you keep hitting him, he’ll die. There are a lot of media and too many eyes at tonight’s banquet. We need to suppress this and handle it quietly."

Julian released Tristan and stood up. He glanced at the blood on his knuckles, unsure if it belonged to him or Tristan.

He turned his pitch-black, emotionless eyes toward Sophie, who was leaning against the bed. "Lock down this floor."

But the moment his words fell, a chaotic commotion echoed from down the hall. Footsteps clamored, accompanied by excited chatter. "Hurry, I heard there’s a massive scoop over here!"

Evan’s face changed. "That pack of media hyenas is coming."

If they were photographed in this state, it would be a disaster! For one, Sophie’s disheveled state made it obvious what had happened. Secondly, Tristan was beaten half to death; if that were caught on camera, it would blow up into a massive scandal, making it incredibly tricky to resolve.

Watching the situation unfold, Sophie’s mind suddenly flashed back to that scene on the cruise ship from years ago... It was strikingly similar, descending upon her like a nightmare. Her breathing grew heavy.

Julian walked past Evan toward Sophie. Half-crouching, he stared at her but spoke to Evan, "Tristan cannot be photographed."

Evan instantly understood Julian’s intent. He immediately went to the unconscious Tristan, bent down to grab him by the shoulders, and dragged him straight into the bathroom. He then shut the door, locking himself inside along with Tristan.

Sophie looked up. Julian was still looking at her.

Then, in a chillingly cool voice, he said, "Sophie, hug me."