Scars Of A Broken Bond by Calv Momose

“Why?” Tyrone broke the silence, his teeth clenched. “Why did you do it?” The question wasn’t explicit, but the meaning was
clear to both of them.
After a prolonged silence, Larry chuckled.
“Why? I don’t know. Maybe it was just a whim.”
“A whim!” Tyrone seethed, barely controlling his anger
They both remained silent for the rest of the trip.
Once they arrived at the club, the waiter escorted them to a room. The waiter opened the door for them, extending a welcoming
gesture.
“Please, come in.”
Tyrone gave Larry a stoic glance, and Larry entered the room.
As Tyrone entered the room, he paused to address the waiter. “We’ll talk and didn’t want to be disturbed. We won’t be needing
wine or fruits. You may Leave.”
The waiter nodded.
“Of course, Mr. Blakely. Should you require anything, feel free to call me.”
Tyrone entered the room and shut the door. Larry watched as Tyrone hung his coat on the hanger, then removed his jacket and
loosened his tie, tossing it casually on the sofa. Then
Tyrone lifted his gaze to Larry as he rolled his sleeves up.
Whack!
Without warning, Tyrone unleashed a brutal blow, his fist connecting with Larry’s face.
The impact sent Larry reeling, blood gushing from his mouth as he staggered back, instinctively clutching his swollen and
bloodied Lips. Blood marred his hands.

Regaining his balance, Larry glanced at the blood on his fingers just as Tyrone delivered another powerful punch, the sickening
thud echoing through the room.
Tyrone felt the jolt of his knuckles connecting with flesh as he struck again, breaking Larry’s nose.
Larry’s face became swollen, black and blue.
Drawing on every ounce of resilience, Larry extended his arm and successfully intercepted Tyrone’s punch. In a swift
countermove, Larry retaliated with a hard swing.
Blood oozed from the corner of Tyrone’s mouth. He casually wiped it away, then let out a primal roar, hurling himself at Larry.
They crashed to the ground in a whirlwind of fury, Tyrone releasing a storm of pent-up rage.
After an endless struggle, they finally ceased their violent exchange, both collapsing exhausted. One lay sprawled on the floor,
the other slumped on the sofa. Their hair was disheveled, their faces bloodied and bruised, and their bodies drenched in sweat.
Their current state was in stark contrast to their earlier sophisticated demeanor when they entered the room.
Gently pressing his swollen cheek, Tyrone’s chest heaved with the effort to catch his breath.
The only sound in the room was their labored gasps.
After a prolonged rest, Tyrone slowly regained some energy. He stretched out his leg and kicked Larry, who lay on the floor.
“Don’t play dead. What’s going on?”
Larry bent his knees, lying on the floor and gazing at the ceiling.
“Didn’t you already figure it out?”
“I want to hear it from you. Then I’LL tell you myself. I was the one who told Galilea to get close to you and pursue you. It was me
who instructed her to steal the core data of the project. And it was me who sent those kidnappers out of the country. Are you
satisfied?”
Tyrone demanded.
Tyrone growled, “Why?”