Chapter 913

Francis stared at Patrick for a long time, his fingers so stiff they were going numb. Ha… just "like"? What a joke. That "like" came way too late. Lowering his head, Francis chuckled—and just like that, tears slipped down his cheeks. "Yeah, you've really got issues. Not even small ones." He stood up slowly, relying on the leg that wasn't injured, struggling to get to his feet. "You say you like me? But when I stood in front of you back then, you called me disgusting." Patrick took a deep breath, wishing more than anything he could travel back in time and punch that version of himself. His damn mouth—always running at the wrong time. Francis unbuttoned his shirt with effort. His body was scattered with bruises—evidence of what happened that night. "You still feel that 'like' now?" Francis asked, eyes locked on Patrick. Patrick's whole body froze, hands clenched tight as rage bubbled up inside him, his body trembling. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to find those bastards and end