Benedict's POV
I barely made it to my office before everything fell apart.
The door slammed shut and I lost control completely. My hands swept across the nearest bookshelf, sending everything crashing to the floor. Books scattered everywhere with satisfying thuds that matched the fury pounding in my chest.
She had nothing. No recording. No evidence. Nothing at all.
I had won this round.
So why were my hands trembling like this?
I grabbed more books and hurled them across the room. They smashed into the wall with a crash that echoed through the space. Papers flew everywhere. One of the thick volumes left a dent in the plaster.
Perfect.
I turned toward the wall beside my desk and drew back my fist. The impact sent pain shooting up my arm but I pulled back and hit it again. And again. The skin on my knuckles split open. Blood smeared across the white paint but I kept going.
