Wenna was grabbed by the nightclub manager and slammed against the wall.
Her cheek was slapped, her abdomen punched, nosebleed mixed with saliva flew out, and her whole head was dizzy.
"F*ck you, b*tch!"
The man was burly, with three studs embedded on his thick lips, slowly leaning close to her ear.
"Who do you think you're talking to? I'll break your legs and make you learn to serve customers slowly..."
Wenna could feel a tongue sweeping across her forehead.
The wound was blistering hot.
She felt nauseous and terrified inside.
Swoosh—
Bodyguards in suits in the alley had already drawn out batons.
Wenna screamed, her legs kicking repeatedly, and images of her knees being smashed and thrown into a waterproof bag appeared in her mind.
She was held down tightly, her hair messy.
The metal baton swung up, about to make a whistling sound, but the hand holding the weapon blasted into a pulp in mid-air.
"Ah—F*ck! Damn, hiss, f—"
