Chapter 12 - The Miller’s Mad Dog
‘In there,’ gulped Josh.
Suddenly, the sedan came to a halt. Everyone rushed toward it in wonder. It didn’t take long for them to learn the reason.
“A paparazzi,” murmured Mark, almost to himself. When their quick walking pace turned into a run, the door of the sedan swung open. A man with brilliant blond hair slowly stood up.
‘Ah.’ At that moment, it seemed as if the entire world had stopped. Those few seconds felt like an eternity—perhaps because Josh had forgotten to breathe.
The first thing that entered his sight was a frigid blue. Beyond the aqua blue that reminded Josh of an ocean clearer than the sky, there stood the man.
Not only had Josh never even imagined anyone wearing a suit of that color, but he couldn’t have ever thought that anyone could look good in one. And yet, the man managed to do both. Moreover, he looked so exquisite in it that some guy who didn’t know his place could even get the idea of trying it himself.
His natural blond locks that were cleanly combed back, his long limbs, his tightly and coldly pursed lips—he, with his exceptionally pale skin, had everything to look as pure and innocent as an angel. In reality, however, staring at him made the beholder feel eerie as if a portion of their heart was being yanked out of their body.
The reason for this was probably due to his wintry stare. He seemed like he was staring at something, but really, his gaze wasn’t focused on anything. They were a pair of empty purple irises.
He slowly scanned his surroundings with those eyes. His eyes seemed to have met with that of Josh for a split second; of course, it was just Josh’s false impression. The gaze meaninglessly brushed past him and directed toward another direction, disappointing Josh.
As Chase sighed and swept up his fallen hair, his face was full of weariness. When Chase looked up, Josh noticed that he had lodged a cigarette between his red lips that were slightly ajar. Chase took the hand that he had used to sweep up his hair to his cigarette.
His well-maintained, rectangular fingernails that embellished the tips of his long and slender fingers entered Josh’s sight. Red flames flickered ablaze, and the cigarette between his fingers tilted to one side. Its long, white body that had barely been inhaled escaped Chase’s fingers and plummeted down.
Chase’s eyes suddenly became fixed on one point. Suddenly, he squinted.
“Mr. Miller—” began the head of the previous security team as he walked briskly toward Chase.
A series of camera shutter noises echoed sharply and abruptly. Everyone froze in shock, and Chase suddenly pulled his lips into a faint smile. For a moment, Josh thought he felt chills gushing over his heart.
The man began to move his legs. Everyone held their breaths as they fixed their gazes on Chase. His body drew an elegant line as it moved gently and gracefully, as though swimming in the air. He stared intently at one point and only one point. Nothing else seemed to matter to him right now.
As they stared at him, mesmerized, Chase’s delicate hand slipped inside his blazer jacket. He pulled something out.
Josh wasn’t the only one who realized that it was none other than the Desert Eagle that Chase Miller often used.
“Get out of there, you idiot!” yelled Mark desperately. The old security team rushed in, shouting. Chase stretched out his arms.
Josh thought he might actually faint. Chase took long strides toward the paparazzi, who was brave enough to still be snapping photo after photo without running off and pointed the muzzle at him.
Purebloods born between an Extreme Alpha and an Extreme Omega—the Miller brothers and sisters, who were all Extreme Alphas thanks to these genetic workings, all had nicknames comparing them to different animals. The oldest of them, who worked as a lawyer, resembled their father the most and was nicknamed White Snake after their father.
And the nickname of this man—the third child—was none other than…
A loud gunshot rang. The paparazzi dropped his camera and staggered before falling to the ground. Shards of the camera which were flying in all directions and the bright red color of the blood were frighteningly eye-catching. Chase didn’t stop there. He walked toward the paparazzi, who sat pale-faced as he backed away on his bottom, and aimed the gun at him once again.
Having witnessed the Mad Dog of the Millers once more, Josh felt deeply in his bones that this man had not changed at all even after all these years.
“What’re y’all staring at? Block him!”
“Please, no, Mr. Miller!”
“Run, you dumba*s!”
“What are you doing, backups? Stop Mr. Miller!”
Everyone yelled out in panic. It was true chaos.
‘F*cking hell,’ Josh swallowed his curses and sprinted madly forward. Back then and now—nothing had changed. While their task was to bodyguard that crazy b*stard who was shooting his Desert Eagle with one hand, they had to concentrate their entire force not on protecting that man, but on protecting the public from that motherf*cker.
This time was the same. It wasn’t Chase Miller who Josh and everyone else had to save; it was that shameless paparazzi.
“Argh!” Josh yelled out as another gunshot sounded. It was a good thing he was able to somehow fling himself at Chase to snatch the gun out of his hand, but he had burned his hand when he grabbed onto the burning muzzle.
Isaac frantically yelled from behind Josh as Josh tossed away the gun, “Josh! Oh my God, are you okay?”
Josh desperately flapped his stinging hand as he turned around. The security team was surrounding Chase, trying their best to hold him back. Thanks to that, Chase’s agitated hormones were messily mixed into other scents. This came as a relief to Josh.
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