Faust walked inside with the help of his cane. He could feel the pain in his injured leg kicking in because of the effort he overexerted on them when he hurried out of his car the moment they arrived at this hotel. But he didn't flinch even a bit. And despite his limping, his presence demanded nothing less of the authority and power he possessed.
“Boss! Good thing you’re here! This b***h! She’s a lunatic!” Luther cried hysterically but Faust didn’t even throw him a side glance. His cold eyes stayed focused on the woman in front of him, taking note of her messy hair that escaped her pony, the red mark on her cheeks that’s starting to swell and the big red bump on her forehead that matches the one Luther’s hand is covering now. He couldn't help but smirk. This woman is
