By the time Arthur sensed danger and turned around, the dagger was already inches from his face. The icy blade gleamed as it shot toward him, and in that split second, an unbearable sense of regret filled his heart. He hadn’t even married Ashley yet. If he died here, he couldn’t begin to imagine how much it would break her. His entire life flashed before his eyes like a reel of film. Is this really the end? There was still so much he had yet to do. Was I about to die like this? The dagger was too fast. He had reacted too late. There was no way he could dodge in time. But just as the blade was about to pierce him, a figure suddenly leaped in front of him. Arthur’s chest tightened. Before he could even stop them, the figure shot past, barely grazing his cheek. A strangled cry ripped from his throat. "Taylor!" At that moment, Arthur didn’t care about anything else. He let go of Finley without a second thought, shoving him aside as he lunged forward, arms outstretched, trying to catch Taylor. Arthur threw himself to the ground, breaking Taylor’s fall with his own body. Taylor slammed into him with full force, sending a fresh jolt of pain through Arthur’s already battered frame. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips. But Arthur didn’t care. The pain didn’t matter. He immediately pushed himself up, one hand supporting Taylor while the other frantically checked his condition. "Taylor! Taylor! Stay with me!" As soon as he turned him over, a stream of blood spilled from Taylor’s mouth.Taylor tried to speak, to reassure Arthur that he was okay. But the moment he parted his lips, the blood only poured out faster. Arthur held him close, and that was when he felt it—a sudden warmth spreading across his fingers. His hands shook as he slowly pulled them away. And all he saw was red. A wave of nausea hit him. He had never realized before just how blinding blood could be. Panic overtook him. "Taylor! Taylor!" For the first time, Arthur felt truly lost. His hands hovered over Taylor’s wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. But the dagger was still lodged deep in his back. If Arthur touched it, he might make things worse. His vision blurred with rage and terror as his eyes burned red. It all happened in the blink of an eye. Arthur’s head jerked up as he turned toward the door. A man stood there, his face eerily similar to Finley’s—six or seven points of resemblance, at least. His expression was unreadable, his graying temples adding to the air of authority around him. But it was his eyes that stood out—dark and menacing, like a snake watching its prey. A line of bodyguards in sleek black suits flanked him. The one in front still had his arm raised, caught mid-motion after throwing the dagger. It was them. They were the ones who had hurt Taylor. From the ground, where Arthur had tossed him aside, Finley finally caught sight of the man. His face twisted in shock as he blurted out, "Dad!" Arthur’s head snapped toward him. Dad? This man… was Finley’s father? Solivair Tremo turned to Finley, his gaze sweeping over the deep wounds on his legs and the blood staining his clothes.But there wasn’t even a trace of concern in his expression. Instead, his eyes were cold, filled with disappointment. "Pathetic. You couldn’t even handle something this simple." His voice was razor-sharp. Finley stiffened at the insult, but instead of anger or frustration, he simply lowered his head and replied, "I’m sorry, Dad." Arthur clenched his jaw as he watched Solivair, the man who had just hurt Taylor without a second thought, standing there completely indifferent. His fury was at its breaking point. But there were too many of them. A fight would be suicide, and every second wasted only put Taylor in greater danger. Arthur took a deep breath, forcing himself to push down his overwhelming rage. In the calmest voice he could manage, he said, "My friend is seriously injured. If he doesn’t get help now, he’ll die. Call an ambulance and get him to a hospital. I’ll stay." This fight had been between him and Finley. Taylor had nothing to do with it. If Taylor hadn’t been with him that night, he never would have been dragged into this mess. This was on him. This was my fault. Arthur tightened his hold on Taylor, guilt gnawing at his chest. He had never imagined they would go this far. Kidnapping, stabbing—did the law mean nothing to them? But Arthur knew their real target was him. As long as he stayed behind, they had no reason to let Taylor die. Finley’s heart clenched at Arthur’s words. The Tremo family might have money and power, but even they had to respect the law. Taylor had already lost so much blood, and his wound was dangerously close to being fatal. If he actually died, it would bring nothing but trouble for the Tremo family. But more importantly, Taylor was Hugo’s student.Finley had never liked Hugo, but that didn’t change the fact that his influence was undeniable.