?Chapter 142:


    The other two drunkards charged at her, fists clenched, eyes wild.


    Davina scoffed. She dodged the first and kicked him hard. “One fifty,” she muttered.


    Thest drunkard swung. She ducked and came up with a clean uppercut. His jaw snapped back, and before he could fall, she kicked him in the gut. He hit the ground hard. She stared down at him with disgust.


    “You’re the fattest. Count it two-fifty.”


    Ralphy let out a low chuckle. Her boldness amused him.


    Davina turned, ready to speak—but then saw Ralphy’s face change. The cigarette slipped from his lips. His eyes widened with rm.


    “Watch out!” he shouted, dashing toward her.


    Davina barely turned her head before Ralphy pulled her into his arms, shielding her without a second thought. The sharp crash of shattering ss filled the air.


    It turned out that one of the drunkards had lunged, smashing a bottle at Davina. Ralphy had rushed over and swept her into his embrace, his arm raised just in time to fend off the bottle.


    The ss exploded against Ralphy. Without flinching, he spun around with Davina still in his arms. Then, he delivered the kick—swift and brutal.


    His foot mmed into the drunkard’s leg. A crack rang out, followed by a scream of pain. The drunkard dropped like a stone, clutching his leg and howling.


    If Ralphy hadn’t acted fast, Davina would have been hurt. Maybe not by the ss, but the impact alone could have done real damage.


    Ralphy held Davina tightly, spinning them away from danger before stopping.


    For Davina, in that split second, everything else seemed to disappear. No voices. No chaos. Just the two of them. It felt like they were dancing. A dangerous, beautiful waltz in the middle of a fight.


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    Pressed against Ralphy’s chest, Davina stared up at him. His face was stern, a lethal intent flickering in his eyes as he kicked the drunkard hard.


    She had always thought of Ralphy asid-back, mischievous, even careless. But now, she saw something more. His sharp jaw. His striking features. His strong profile. His eyes, cold and calm as he kicked the drunkard down. There was something quietly heroic about him. Something that made her heart skip without warning. She found herself staring, unable to look away.


    “You okay?” Ralphy’s voice broke through, low and gentle.


    Davina blinked, snapping out of it. She quickly dropped her gaze, flustered. “I—I’m fine.”


    “Let me check if any ss cut you.” Gently cupping her face with both hands, Ralphy furrowed his brows, inspecting her delicate skin that was now faintly flushed. “No cuts. That’s good. But check yourself—anywhere hurt? Tell me if you feel any pain.”


    His barrage of concerned questions made Davina’s heart race slightly faster. Then, she remembered. His arm had been struck by the bottle. She grabbed it gently.


    Ralphy hissed in pain and tensed up.


    Davina immediately released his arm, her panic evident as she apologized.


    “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you? Should we go to the hospital?”


    He gave her a crooked grin. “Rx. It’s just a minor injury.”


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