I’m Someone Else

The answer made Wallace freeze in disbelief. What the hell is going on today? First I got beaten up by a lowly driver, and then a filthy mechanic yells at me? What is this? Loser’s Bragging Day?

“Why are you wasting your time on these losers? Just get rid of them and go back to the gathering,” Izzy urged impatiently. They’re just no-name losers. Beat them up and get it over with. Don’t waste your time talking to them.

Outside the room, everyone else was watching the show unfurl without raising even a finger to help. After all, this had nothing to do with them. You only have yourself to blame, Thomas. You hit Wallace, and this is what you get.

“Nate!” Wallace looked at Nate.

“Kill that little b*stard!” Nate swung his hand down.

But before Nate’s lackeys could do anything, Sean asked curiously, “Who the hell are you?”

“You’re asking me? What’s that got to do with you? F*ck off if you don’t wanna die!”

Nate shot Sean an icy look of scorn and disdain. Who’s this little sh*t? What kind of question is that? Don’t you see you guys are in trouble? Shut the f*ck up or I’ll kill you too!

“Someone has a short temper.” William smiled as he lit a cigar, then he turned to Thomas. “I’m not saying anything, Thomas, but why did you snap his fingers?”

smile curled Thomas’ lips as well. He was not afraid in the

Nate coldly. “You should have snapped his neck and been done with it. If you did, he wouldn’t even be standing here

nodded in agreement. But we’re ruled by law. Killing him is going to get

handed to him and drew a deep hit. “Murder is going to get me

the hell is

even know what

“Probably not.”

with these trash. That’s kind of hypocritical, don’t you think? Wallace has to lay low, but you can insult him all you want?” Aaron blurted. He despised Thomas even more now. Don’t you see these guys around you? I would grovel and beg for mercy if I were you. Don’t make it sound like you have the upper hand, because you don’t, you absolute cockwaffle

bottle and hurled it

butter up Wallace? Just because he

could not believe Thomas would go so far. Blood was trickling down his head, and he held it tightly as he glared daggers at Thomas. If looks could kill,

missed that throw by just a few degrees,

problem is, you’re just a measly driver. You don’t have anyone to depend on.

He swung his hand down and sent his

behind him and smashed it down on

into pieces, and the thug fell. He was covered in blood

stopped cold in their tracks. That was a wooden chair, and he smashed it in one go? How much force was behind it? If we got hit by