As ruthlessly as Drake pinned the detective to the couch, punching him severally in the face, jaws and wherever his fists hit, yet he wasn't getting enough. He felt like bringing down hell on the immoral jerk, crush his skull and make a powder out it. Fill it in an hourglass or something.
"Get off me, you little shit. What's the matter with --"
A firm fist of Drake on his lips, made a pulp, denying the detective of the words. In no time, a side of the detective's face was swollen, slowly going out of shape.
Drake felt a force in his chest, but that wasn't enough to stop the amount of rage which had corrupted his sense of judgement. He couldn't think straight. He wanted to beat the detective to an unconscious state. Probably after that, he would be able to get a grip.
"Stop... Mason! What are you doing??"
Caidine had been alerted by the ruckus. She had rushed to him and was pulling his waist, to separate them.
