Chapter 289: Hanging by a thread
Chapter 289: Hanging by a thread
Vin could feel his strength being drained, his body betraying him as his legs wobbled and his punches became feeble. But he refused to give up, especially to someone like Renly Hall—a pretty boy who seemed all style and no substance. How could he lose? How could he be so humiliated? How could he be powerless?
Before rage could fully ignite, Vin staggered to his feet and instinctively threw a punch with his right hand. But it was weak, like a noodle flailing through the air. Renly easily dodged it and, with a swift and brutal kick to the back of Vin\'s right knee, brought him crashing down.
The blow struck Vin\'s bone with a sharp crack, and he collapsed, knees hitting the ground painfully. The intense pain choked him, turning his face beet red as he knelt there, unable to move even a finger. He was like a fish on the chopping block, awaiting the butcher\'s blade.
The fear that gripped Vin was palpable. His pupils trembled with a terror of injury and death, his mind paralyzed by the overwhelming suffocation. It was as if he was being dragged underwater with a stone tied to his chest, struggling in vain.
Renly, seeing Vin\'s complete surrender, advanced and grabbed Vin by the throat with his left hand, squeezing with all his might.
The instinct to survive surged through Vin, awakening the last reserves of his strength. He reached up, trying to pry Renly\'s arm off, hoping to use his superior strength to reverse the situation. But Renly had the upper hand now, and no matter how hard Vin tried, he couldn\'t break free from Renly\'s iron grip.
Renly could feel Vin\'s frantic breaths against his arm, so hot it seemed to burn his skin. At that moment, Renly felt as though he held a life in his hands, a life so fragile that he could end it with just a twist of his fingers.
The thrill of power surged through him, making him feel weightless, as if he stood at the pinnacle of the world. Yet, a cold current of fear, like that experienced by Eugene Sledge, coursed through his veins. Renly\'s hands began to tremble as blood seeped into his fingertips, the sensation of being consumed from within overtaking him.
This wasn\'t him.
Clenching his teeth, Renly\'s eyes, once clouded by violence, began to clear. He was Hobbs—a federal agent, a protector of his brothers, a relentless enforcer of the law. But he was not a killer, not a judge nor an executioner. His job was to apprehend criminals, nothing more, nothing less.
With resolve returning to his gaze, Renly looked up and saw the other FBI agents taking control of the situation. Mia and Brian were surrounded. He knew everything was under control now. This time, there would be no escape like in the parking lot before.
But in that brief moment of distraction, Vin found an opening. He slammed his legs into the ground, driving Renly back into the wall. Once, twice, Renly\'s grip loosened, and Vin broke free, turning around to launch a flurry of attacks.
Right punch, right elbow, left punch, right punch, left elbow, right knee, left punch... A relentless barrage that once again left Renly on the brink of unconsciousness.
However, the brief suffocation earlier had drained Vin of his strength. His punches lacked the power they once had. Renly quickly regained his footing, charging forward to grapple with Vin. They crashed through a glass window, tumbling onto a tool table, the scene turning into a chaotic mess.
The props, specially made by the crew, weren\'t as sturdy as real objects but still solid enough to hurt. Renly felt as though he had been pummeled with three hundred and sixty-five punches, his body aching and bruised to the point where his pain receptors seemed to shut down.
"Dom!" Mia rushed forward, calling out loudly. The FBI agents closed in, their guns trained on Dominic, but Hobbs sat up, commanding in a hoarse voice, "Stand down! He\'s mine!" And then, his fists rained down like a storm, blow after blow.
Each punch landed with a resounding thud, making Vin\'s head spin. Blood poured from the cut on his brow, blurring his vision and giving his face a terrifying, grotesque appearance. The sound of his fists echoed in his mind, like a watermelon being smashed, the sharp crack followed by a dull thud, a conflicting sensation that made it feel like something had broken inside.
Vin gritted his teeth, blocking Renly\'s fists with both hands. In a direct contest of strength, Vin still held the upper hand, even as Renly punched from above. It was a stalemate, but Renly\'s momentum faltered.
It was just a moment, but it was enough.
Vin shoved Renly off, flipping him onto the ground. He was about to punch down when Renly curled up his legs like compressed springs and kicked Vin in the gut, separating them. Rolling to the side, Renly grabbed a nearby wrench.
Without hesitation, Renly swung the wrench at Vin\'s head. But at the last second, he maintained enough presence of mind to aim off target, striking the metal plate instead.
The wrench rebounded, making Renly\'s wrist tingle with numbness as he lost his balance and fell to the ground.
Seizing the opportunity, Vin scrambled back on top of Renly, landing a punch that, though blocked by Renly\'s weakened arms, still forced him to drop his guard. Vin\'s next punch connected with Renly\'s cheek, the jarring collision of teeth and bone sending a shudder through his entire body.
Vin grabbed the wrench lying nearby, but his hands ached, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. Shame, humiliation, and countless other emotions clashed within him. A voice in his head screamed, "Hit him! Hit him! Hit him!" His eyes locked onto Renly\'s temple, unable to look away.
If he just struck now, it would all be over!
"Do it! Do it! Do it!" The voice in his mind grew louder, more insistent. Vin\'s eyes turned bloodshot, his reason burned away. From Telluride onward, he had despised this face before him, and now, it could finally be silenced. All it took was one strike. "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"
Danger.
Renly\'s entire body tensed, sensing the presence of death. But rather than fear, he felt a strange calm. He had already died once; he knew what lay at the end of the line, and so he wasn\'t afraid. He wouldn\'t cower.
Renly turned his head, blood trickling into his eyes, his cheek swollen. He knew he looked a mess, but looking at Vin, he knew Vin was even worse off. Vin\'s bald head was covered in blood, the cut on his brow split open, raw pink flesh exposed, blood dripping down his face. The mixture of dust and blood made Vin look like a pathetic, beaten dog.
Ignoring the stinging in his eyes, Renly glared at Vin.
In that moment, despite the looming threat of death, he saw the fear in Vin. He knew Vin didn\'t dare to strike. Killing wasn\'t easy, just as Eugene Sledge had realized on the battlefield. No matter how much blood stained your hands, killing didn\'t bring pleasure, only disgust and fear.
Seeing the fear in Vin\'s eyes, Renly found it laughable. The man with the wrench, the one holding the power of life and death, looked like a clown. He fancied himself a tough guy, strong and ruthless, but deep down, Vin was just a little girl in a pink ballet dress. So, Renly\'s lips curled into a faint smile.
It was this small, almost imperceptible smile that Vin noticed, and the shame it brought surged through him, burning away his last shred of reason. Then, he brought the wrench down.