Amelia Avery propped herself up, her body aching from being thrown, and got to her feet. Her hand was already bleeding. When she had hit Jonah Ross, she was still clutching the jagged neck of the broken bottle. So when Jonah threw her, the glass had shattered and sliced into her palm.
She furrowed her brow, pulled a few shards of glass from her hand, and looked up at the ill-intentioned men before her.
"Weren't you acting all high and mighty a minute ago? What's wrong? Not so tough now?"
"You dare hit our boss? We'll fuck you to death!"
...Without Jonah Ross to keep them in check, the men's true natures were completely exposed.
Watching them strip off their clothes and walk toward her, Amelia backed away uneasily, but her tone didn't yield an inch. "A bunch of lapdogs. Ptui! You're so fucking disgusting!"
The moment she finished speaking, one man lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of her hair, while another began to rip her clothes off.
