His Broken Bride Is A Hidden Genius

His heavy combat boots splashed through the puddles, closing the distance. Griffin crouched in front of her. He pressed the flat, freezing edge of the knife against Adeline's cheek. The blade was sharp enough to slice through a single layer of skin. A tiny bead of warm blood welled up, mixing with the cold rain on her face. The sting was sharp, but Adeline bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. She kept the vacant, drooling smile plastered on her face. Griffin's eyes were dark, stormy, and unstable. He pressed harder. The blade slid down her jawline, hooking into the zipper of her cheap jacket. With a flick of his wrist, he popped the zipper. The threat was clear and brutal. Adeline's stomach plummeted. Every survival instinct screamed at her to fight. But she clapped her hands together instead, giggling at the shiny metal like a toddler watching a magic trick. The lack of normal human fear frustrated Griffin. His jaw clenched. He reached out, his large hand grabbing the collar of her jacket and shirt. He ripped the fabric down her shoulder. The freezing rain hit her bare skin. A wave of pure humiliation and danger crashed over Adeline. If she stayed passive, he might actually violate her. She had to end this. She dropped the lollipop. Like a feral, cornered cat, she lunged forward. She opened her mouth and sank her teeth deep into the wrist of the hand holding her shoulder. She bit down with every ounce of strength she had. The metallic taste of his blood flooded her mouth. Griffin didn't expect the attack. But it wasn't the pain that broke him. It was the touch. The feeling of female skin, of human contact, shot through his nervous system like a million volts of electricity. His severe touch-induced mania, a condition he fought every single day, detonated. A low, agonizing roar tore from his throat. The veins in his eyes stood out in stark relief against the sclera, turning them bloodshot and feral, as if a hemorrhage was threatening to burst from within. His sanity snapped. He violently swung his arm. The sheer force of his movement launched Adeline through the air. She slammed hard into the metal dumpster. The air was knocked from her lungs. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her bruised ribs, gasping for breath. The knife clattered into the puddle. Griffin dropped to his knees. He clutched his head with both hands, his massive frame curling inward as he let out ragged, tortured breaths. Through the dim light, Adeline watched him. Her sharp medical mind immediately recognized the symptoms. This wasn't anger. This was a severe, pathological neurological episode. Griffin surged to his feet like a wild beast. He kicked the heavy metal dumpster. The deafening crash echoed down the block. He stood in the rain, his chest heaving. He turned his bloodshot eyes toward Adeline, who was curled in the corner. Adeline immediately grabbed a dirty candy wrapper from the mud and shoved it into her mouth, chewing on the plastic with wide, terrified, empty eyes. Griffin stared at her filthy, pathetic state. The physiological nausea finally overpowered the violent storm in his brain. Tires screeched. A black Cadillac SUV swerved into the mouth of the alley, its high beams blinding them both. Winston Ames, an older man in a tailored suit, jumped out. He popped a black umbrella and rushed toward Griffin. When he saw the blood and Griffin's state, Winston's face went pale. "Sir," Winston said, his hand dropping to the holster at his waist. He looked at Adeline. "Do we need to dispose of her?" Griffin closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked at Adeline with absolute disgust. "Leave the retard," Griffin spat. Winston nodded, quickly holstering his weapon. He guided Griffin's shaking frame toward the back seat of the SUV. Before getting in, Griffin looked back. His eyes locked onto Adeline one last time, filled with a lingering, chaotic irritation. The heavy car door slammed shut. The SUV sped off into the rainy night, splashing dirty water onto the curb. Adeline sat perfectly still until the red taillights disappeared completely. She spat the plastic wrapper into the puddle. The dull, empty look in her eyes vanished instantly. Her gaze became razor-sharp, cold, and calculating. She reached up and touched her bare neck. Her grandfather's necklace was gone. She pushed herself off the wet pavement, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ribs. She pulled her torn jacket tight across her shoulder. She was going to get that necklace back. No matter who that monster was.