The middle-aged woman started cursing: "Get out of the way, Sophie Kenith, that little bitch. She owes us a life!!! Even if we beat her to death, we wouldn't be wrong!"
The middle-aged man angrily stamped his foot, both of them staring at Sophie Kenith with venom in their eyes.
Irvin Sharman did not move aside.
He lowered his head to look at the woman he was protecting.
Blood was already flowing from the corner of Sophie's mouth.
Her cheek was swollen, no longer showing her originally delicate features; she must be in a lot of pain, hence the sweat forming on her forehead.
Irvin Sharman clenched his fists.
His broad frame stood in front of Sophie, shielding her from the raging storm.
Sophie stared at him steadily, suddenly feeling a sense of security she had never before experienced.
It seemed that today, for once, she wouldn't have to exhaust herself.
With that thought, her vision darkened and she fainted.
