Wyatt Quinn unhurriedly tapped the ash from his cigarette.
He took one last deep drag from the butt before grinding it out in the ashtray.
Only then did he lift his gaze to Damian Fairchild, looking at him coldly. "What, looking for another fight?"
Last night, in front of the coffee shop, Wyatt Quinn had punched Damian Fairchild twice.
At the time, Damian Fairchild was worried about Seraphina Quinn's condition and didn't fight back.
Of course, with Seraphina Quinn having collapsed right in front of him, he felt a certain degree of guilt. His rational mind told him he shouldn't retaliate.
As a result, he had taken two of Wyatt Quinn's punches for nothing last night. The corner of his mouth was still badly bruised.
"Master Quinn, I didn't fight back last night because I felt guilty about what happened to her."
"But if you really want to do this today, I won't hold back."
