Chapter 137 The Rescue
The voice on the phone, belonging to Henry King, didn't say much, only urging Matthew to hurry over.
As far as Henry could tell, aside from the injuries on her face, Madison's main issue seemed to be the effects of being drugged. She adamantly avoided anyone approaching her, likely mistaking them for the older man. The drugs seemed to have completely taken hold. How she had managed to resist for this long puzzled him.
Matthew braced for the worst. With the monitor’s images imprinted in his mind, he had a pretty clear idea of the situation. Right now, all he wanted was to see Madison chastising himself for not having protected her from this ordeal.
His pace was frantic, betraying his deep-seated fear.
‘If Madison had been harmed...’
The thought of her not being able to face him, leaving him as a result, was unbearable.
Standing together in the elevator, Victor, knowing Matthew well, tried to assure him. "Matthew, it'll be all right."
Matthew took a deep breath, unable to contemplate the situation further. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he hurried out and reached the room's door. It was slightly open, so Matthew pushed it wide and entered, followed by Victor. Inside, they found an older man lying naked and unconscious on the floor, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.
Henry King sat leisurely in a chair, calmly sipping a glass of red wine as if the scene didn't faze him.
Victor was taken aback. Would it have killed Henry to cover the guy up instead of leisurely enjoying his wine in front of such a spectacle?
Unconcerned with anyone else, Matthew barged in, his voice laden with urgency. "Where is my wife?"
Putting down his glass of wine, Henry tilted his chin up and gestured toward the large bed. "There, on the bed."
Madison lay on the bed, wrapped up like a mummy, murmuring.
Matthew strode across the room in just a few quick steps and arrived at the bed where Madison lay. Her entire body was swaddled in blankets, her cheeks flushed with an unnatural, fevered red, and suppressed moans intermittently escaped her lips.
Instantly, Matthew had a hunch about what had happened, and an air of deadly fury emanated from him. "Who did this?"
Jasper He, witnessing Matthew's towering rage, knew this was no joking matter and quickly claimed his innocence. "Don't look at me like that. I had nothing to do with it, man. When I walked in, that jerk was already stripped down, and... well, you know how it is. But I kicked him away, and he kept babbling until I, uh, might have accidentally knocked him out. If you want to know what happened, it's simple—the guy's right here, take him. If he doesn't talk, feel free to get tough with him. Do I need to show you how, or can I lend you some tools? I'm pretty skilled at this sorta thing—like finger clamps, candle wax..."
"Thanks for the offer, Jasper, but I think I can handle the rest of this little situation myself," Matthew responded, finding Jasper's enthusiasm a bit too intense.
Even Victor had doubts. Was this guy really the infamous Hawkeye from the K Group, whose notorious and twisted reputation preceded him? He seemed a bit too clownish.
"That's true. Clearing up this little matter should be a breeze for you, Matthew. That said, next time, keep a tighter guard on your people. Luck like this doesn't always happen just in the nick of time," Jasper said somberly, his presence finally matching that of the fabled 'Hawkeye.'
Jasper was indeed a formidable man, a master of disguise. If he didn't want you to get close, you'd never discern his true self—unless, of course, all these facades were just that, and none of them revealed the real him.
"Appreciate the heads-up."
Though Matthew still couldn't fully read him, he was certain that today's incident had nothing to do with Jasper. And indeed, the man had stepped in to help.
Jasper downed his drink in one gulp and said, "I'm out of here. Um, your wife looks like she's barely hanging on. I'll leave you to it." With that, he walked toward the door, pausing just before leaving. "Are you sure you don't want to reconsider my interrogation suggestion? Since you're into that kind of play, why not find a few burly men with special tastes to satisfy him?" He glanced darkly at the man lying on the ground.
At that moment, Matthew leaned down to check on Madison's condition, not sparing any time to entertain Jasper's ideas.
Victor's lips twitched involuntarily, sarcastically thinking what a creative mind.
"Jasper, your concern is noted, but we'll handle it," Victor said as his men dragged the perpetrator away.
Madison was nearly unconscious, and Matthew quickly scooped her up. "Victor, I'm leaving this to you to sort out. Make sure you get to the bottom of it. Take the hotel surveillance footage, and keep someone on Jasper."
With urgency and protective instinct, Matthew carried Madison off, tasking Victor with securing justice and preserving safety.
"Yes, Matthew, you take care of Sister. I've got things covered here."
Matthew nodded and made his way up to the penthouse suite.
Upon entering, Matthew carefully placed Madison on the bed and gently pulled the blanket over her. He noticed that the clasps of her dress were undone, her face swollen with red marks, and her thighs marked with self-inflicted bruises and scrapes. His heart filled with sorrow for her.
‘Damn it!’
Madison was in a daze, yet the uncontrollable desire within her surfaced, driving her to pinch her thigh again. The sharp pain was the only thing that brought her temporary clarity.
Matthew quickly grasped her hand. "Honey, stop, it's me, it's me. I'm sorry, I'm late."
Hearing the familiar voice, she saw a blurry figure. "Matthew, is it you?"
"It's me, honey. It's me."
"I've been waiting for you." Without another word, she kissed Matthew passionately.
Finally, in her husband's arms, she could let go of her restraint.
Her kisses were urgent, the effects of the drug making her bolder than usual, even hastily reaching to fumble with Matthew's belt buckle.
"Why can't I get this... uh oh," her panic grew as she struggled. Madison felt limp all over, a tickling sensation spreading across her skin, bearable only where she touched Matthew. She grew more distressed as the buckle resisted, the intensity becoming unbearable.
"Honey, don't cry, let me do it." Seeing her cry broke his heart. He had intended to check her condition and apply a cold compress to her swollen face, but it seemed there was no waiting now.
While Matthew worked on his belt, Madison wrapped her arms around his neck. Her hands slid under his shirt, clumsily caressing his chest, awkwardly arousing him.
"Matthew, honey, touch me. It's unbearable."
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