Chapter 14 Augustus
The car came to a stop in front of the massive mansion. The once-grand property had begun to deteriorate in places, but it was still an imposing sight, its sheer size and grandeur a reminder of the family’s wealth.
Maverick didn’t wait for Leo to open the door. He shoved it open himself and stormed inside.
Leo hurried after him, while another car pulled up behind them. Several men dressed in black immediately jumped out and followed.
The two security guards stationed outside the mansion barely had time to react before Maverick’s men moved in. Within seconds, they had been overpowered and forced to the ground.
Maverick shoved open the front door and headed straight inside.
He stormed up the stairs and marched directly toward Augustus’s bedroom. Without bothering to knock, he threw the door open.
Augustus was lying on his bed, apparently in the middle of a frantic phone call.
“What the fuck? Why would you let her go?” he demanded into the phone.
Before he could say another word, Maverick was on him.
He grabbed Augustus by the back of the head and slammed it brutally against the wall.
Bang.
Augustus cried out in pain.
Maverick didn't stop.
He slammed his head against the wall again.
And again.
And a third time.
The sound of each impact echoed through the room as blood began to trickle down Augustus’s forehead. Augustus struggled desperately against Maverick’s grip, but Maverick held him firmly, refusing to give him even an inch of freedom.
Then, as though Augustus weighed nothing, Maverick grabbed him by the hair and dragged him across the floor.
Augustus clawed at the carpet, trying to stop himself.
“Maverick! Wait—”
Maverick didn't even look at him.
He dragged him straight toward the staircase before shoving him down.
Augustus tumbled down the stairs, his body striking step after step as his terrified cries echoed throughout the house.
The maids rushed out of the adjoining rooms.
They froze at the sight.
Augustus lay crumpled at the bottom of the staircase, blood covering his face.
Maverick descended after him, skipping several steps at a time, his expression utterly devoid of mercy.
He reached Augustus and grabbed him by the hair again.
Then he dragged him into the living room.
Augustus barely had time to catch his breath before Maverick threw him onto the floor.
The room fell silent.
Maverick reached for his belt.
The moment Augustus realized what he was doing, all the color drained from his face.
“No…”
Maverick pulled the belt free.
The same belt. The same man. And the same punishment Augustus remembered from five years ago, when Maverick had beaten him nearly to death.
Only this time, Maverick looked even more furious.
Maverick kicked Augustus hard, sending him crashing back to the floor, then brought the belt down again.
And again.
And again.
The sharp cracks of the leather echoed through the house, followed by Augustus’s screams, but Maverick didn't stop. His face remained cold and furious as he continued, every strike fueled by the image of Rose crying.
Fifteen minutes later, another panicked voice suddenly rang through the doorway.
“Stop! Stop!”
Albert Bishop, their grandfather, hurried into the room.
“Are you going to kill him?” he demanded furiously.
Maverick didn't even look at him.
Albert rushed forward and tried to position himself between Maverick and Augustus, shielding the younger man with his own body.
“Enough!”
Maverick still didn't stop.
The belt continued to crack through the air until finally his arm began to slow. His hand was aching from the repeated strikes, and the leather belt was stained with blood. Augustus’s shirt was covered in red streaks, his body barely moving beneath him.
Only then did Maverick finally stop.
He took a step back, his chest rising and falling heavily.
His face was thunderous, his eyes bloodshot with fury, and his hand was smeared with blood from gripping the belt.
Yet he showed no sign of pain.
Albert had already retreated several steps, staring at him with a mixture of fury and fear.
“You’re a fucking devil!” he shouted. “How can you hit him like this? You’re a monster! You’re a madman. You still haven't gotten your brain fixed!”
Maverick slowly lifted his eyes toward him.
The look in them was so cold and merciless that Albert instinctively took a step back.
“Keep your dog in check,” Maverick said, his voice dangerously calm. “He tried to lay a hand on my wife today.”
His fingers tightened around the bloodied belt.
“The only reason I’m not killing him is because I don’t want my wife to watch me go to prison.”
Albert's anger flared again.
“He is your family!” he shouted. “How can you do this to him over some woman you just married? All because he made one mistake? Are you going to beat him to death?”
Maverick stared at him for several seconds.
Then he gave a cold, humorless laugh.
“You’re not my family.”
His voice dropped.
“And I don't remember ever being part of yours.”
Albert's expression hardened.
“My father left this house the day he married my mother because you didn't want her. But the moment they died in an accident, you were the first one to take everything they had.”
Maverick's jaw clenched.
“You took their properties. You took their company. You took everything they built together and left Zoe and me to survive on whatever scraps you decided to throw at us.”
His eyes swept over Albert with pure contempt.
“You've been a parasite on my family from the beginning. You and everyone who stood beside you.”
He took one slow step forward.
“I spent years getting everything back.”
Another step.
“And I won't hesitate to take the rest.”
Albert's face tightened, but Maverick's expression remained utterly cold.
“So listen carefully,” he said. “Stay away from my wife. Stay away from Zoe. And stay out of my life.”
His gaze hardened.
“Because if you come after either of them again, I will kill you.”
Albert looked shaken as he stared after Maverick, fear finally creeping into his eyes. This wasn't the first time Maverick had destroyed everything in his path, and Albert knew exactly what he was capable of.
But this time was different.
Augustus had pushed him past the last thread of his patience.
Maverick turned back toward them one final time, his gaze moving between Albert and Augustus.
“I've already taken everything that belonged to me,” he snapped. “I left this house for you to die in, but clearly, generosity doesn't suit you.”
Albert's face paled.
“You deserve to live on the street, scrambling around like fucking cockroaches.”
With that, Maverick turned and stormed out of the house, leaving the room heavy with silence.
Albert's expression darkened as he rushed toward Augustus.
“Don't worry,” he said, trying to steady his voice. “We'll take care of him.”
Augustus could barely lift his head. His body was trembling from the beating, and he could only stare at his grandfather through pain-filled eyes.
Before Albert could say anything else, the sound of hurried footsteps came from the entrance.
Several police officers rushed into the house.
Albert's expression immediately changed.
Two officers approached Augustus and grabbed him, pulling him to his feet.
“What are you doing?” Albert shouted, stepping forward. “What the hell is going on?”
One of the officers stopped and looked at him calmly.
“Mr. Augustus Bishop, you are being arrested for the kidnapping of Mrs. Rose Bishop.”
***
Ivan stormed into the massive bridal store, his face drawn with exhaustion and anger. He hadn't slept much the previous night, and it showed.
The moment he stepped inside, one of the assistants recognized him and hurried over.
“Mr. Carrington, what a surprise. How can we help you today?”
Ivan barely acknowledged her. He walked straight toward the couches and dropped into one of them.
“Prepare a gown for my girlfriend,” he ordered. “We’re getting married. I need you to have her dress ready.”
The assistant hesitated, clearly unsure how to respond.
“Please wait here. I’ll be right back.”
She hurried away, and five minutes later, the manager appeared. He approached Ivan with a polite smile and bowed his head respectfully.
“Mr. Carrington, unfortunately, we don't have Miss Monroe's measurements.
As you know, she never came in for her appointment, and she canceled the consultation where she was supposed to choose her dress.
We don't have any of her measurements or preferences, so I'm afraid we can't prepare a gown for her.”
Ivan rubbed a hand over his face, his exhaustion obvious. His eyes were bloodshot, and the frustration in his expression made the manager straighten nervously.
“I'll choose the dress,” Ivan said flatly. “She'll wear whatever I choose. Just bring me the damn dresses, and I'll pick one for her.”
He paused before adding, “I'll also give you her measurements. Use them to make the gown and have it ready within a week.”
The manager's expression immediately brightened.
“Of course, Mr. Carrington. Absolutely.”
He hurried away and began instructing the assistants to bring out their best gowns.
Within minutes, several dresses were wheeled out on racks and displayed in front of Ivan.
He barely glanced at most of them before stopping at one.
“This one.”
He pointed toward an elegant gown with an open neckline that left the shoulders exposed.
“She likes dresses like this. She'll wear this one.”
The manager immediately nodded.
“Excellent choice, sir.”
“Have it ready within a week.”
“Of course.”
Ivan was still discussing the alterations with the manager when another set of hurried footsteps echoed through the store.
Maria stormed inside.
An assistant immediately rushed toward her, but she waved her off and headed straight toward Ivan.
She stopped directly in front of him.
Ivan looked up, surprised.
“Mom? What are you doing here?”
“What the hell are you doing?” Maria demanded.
Ivan frowned.