Chapter 557 Killing
The bar's security rushed over, but Michael's piercing gaze stopped them cold. He slowly released his grip, watching the man cough and gasp for air.
"You got a death wish?" Michael's voice was barely a whisper, but it sent chills down the man's spine.
Stepping out of the bar, the cold wind helped clear Michael's drunken haze. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
"Pick me up in the alley behind Nightfall Bar in thirty minutes," he ordered curtly before hanging up and leaning against the wall to light a cigarette.
The taste of nicotine mixed with alcohol spread through his mouth. Michael squinted, watching the smoke swirl in the night air. That clueless guy would soon learn the consequences of crossing him.
A black sedan silently glided to a stop in front of him. The door opened, and a sharply dressed young man stood respectfully by the side. "Mr. Russell."
Michael extinguished his cigarette and got into the car. "Where is he?"
"He's secured in the warehouse," the assistant replied quietly. "What do you want us to do?"
Michael looked out at the passing cityscape, a cold smile curling his lips. "Make him disappear. For good."
The assistant's heart skipped a beat, but he nodded. "Understood. I'll handle it."
In the dark, damp warehouse, the man was tied to a chair, his face a mask of terror. When Michael appeared at the door, he began to struggle frantically.
"Mr. Russell! I was wrong! I know I was wrong!" The man sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "Please, spare me! I won't do it again!"
Michael slowly removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscular arms. He walked over to the man, looking down at him like he was an insignificant insect.
"You know," he said softly, "I hate it when people compare me to him."
The man's eyes widened in fear. "I won't do it again! Please..."
Michael raised a hand to silence him. "Too bad, you won't get another chance."
He turned and walked towards the door, instructing his assistant, "Get rid of him tonight. Make sure it's clean."
"Yes, sir," the assistant bowed respectfully. "Where to?"
Without turning back, Michael replied, "The open sea."
Back in the car, Michael slumped in his seat, feeling nothing but emptiness as the alcohol and anger faded. He pulled out his phone, the screen displaying a photo of Emma smiling.
His fingers gently traced her face, his expression softening before quickly darkening again. He turned off the phone and looked out at the gradually brightening sky.
"Take me to the office," he told the driver.
The black sedan silently drove towards the dawn, while someone's life would forever vanish into the dark depths of the ocean.
The lights in the Auris Group CEO's office were still on.
Zachary lounged on the leather sofa, fiddling with an ornate lighter. He wore a flashy pink shirt, the top three buttons undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone, completely out of place in the serious office setting.
"Michael," Zachary drawled, "what's the deal? Dragging me here in the middle of the night just to watch you drink yourself into oblivion?"
Michael slumped in his office chair, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, his expensive suit jacket crumpled on the chair back. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat in front of him, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the ceiling.
"Shut up," Michael's voice was hoarse and barely recognizable.
Zachary sighed dramatically, walking over to the desk and snatching the bottle away. "Alright, alright, if you keep this up, you'll end up in the hospital." He sniffed the bottle and grimaced. "Did you drink the whole bar dry?"
Suddenly, Michael grabbed Zachary's collar, his grip strong enough to almost lift him off the ground. "She chose him."
Zachary struggled to breathe but still managed a cheeky grin. "You're lovesick, huh?" He wriggled free and straightened his collar. "It's just Emma. I can call her for you."
Zachary pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts. Michael tried to stand up to stop him, but stumbled back into his chair, too drunk to keep his balance.
"Don't call her," his voice now tinged with desperation.
Ignoring him, Zachary dialed the number. "Ms. Stuart? It's Zachary." His tone instantly became serious and concerned. "Michael's in a bad way. Can you come over?"
On the other end, Emma's voice sounded hesitant. "What's wrong with him?"
"He's drunk out of his mind, calling your name non-stop," Zachary glanced at the slumped Michael and sighed dramatically. "I'm worried about him. You know his stomach isn't great."
This reason clearly hit a soft spot for Emma. After a few seconds of silence, she replied, "I'll be right there."
Hanging up, Zachary winked at Michael. "Done!"
Michael's expression was a mix of anticipation and fear. He reached for the bottle again, but Zachary stopped him. "Come on, if she sees you like this, she'll run away."
Half an hour later, Emma arrived in a hurry. She wore a simple white sweater and jeans, her hair tied back in a ponytail, clearly having come straight from home.
As she opened the office door, the strong smell of alcohol hit her.
Emma frowned, her eyes landing on Michael, slumped in the chair. His shirt was wrinkled, his tie loose, his usually immaculate hair disheveled, giving off a vibe of despair and danger.
"Why did you drink so much?" Emma's voice was soft but filled with concern.
Michael's head snapped up at the sound of her voice, his eyes lighting up. "Emma." He tried to stand but fell back into the chair.
Emma quickly moved to support him. "Don't move." She turned to Zachary. "How long has he been like this?"
Zachary shrugged. "A long, long time. He wouldn't listen to reason." He sighed dramatically. "I have a meeting to attend. Can you look after him for a bit?"
Emma looked conflicted. "But Seraphine and Lucas are waiting for me at home."
"Just for a little while," Zachary pleaded, hands together in a prayer gesture. "I'll arrange for someone to take him home once he falls asleep."
Emma glanced at Michael. He looked like a child who had done something wrong, head down, fingers twisting the hem of his shirt, completely different from his usual fierce demeanor.
"Alright," she finally agreed. "But I can't stay long."
Emma helped Michael to the office's adjoining lounge. He leaned heavily on her, his hot breath on her neck, carrying the strong scent of alcohol.
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