John Roth was tall, at least six feet, and quite stout. When he threw his punch, it was clean and powerful.
The colleagues around felt their hearts drop.
It was over.
He had lost his temper completely.
Carson Flores was probably going to get hit!
John Roth's fist, with a whoosh of force, suddenly stopped three inches from Carson Flores's cheek. It wasn't John Roth who wanted to stop; it was because Carson Flores had grabbed his wrist.
John Roth was shocked. His punch was strong, but it was firmly caught by Carson Flores.
He tried to struggle free, but Carson Flores's hand was immovable, like an iron hoop.
When he looked up in panic, he saw Carson Flores's eyes, cold as frosty stars, with a faint hint of mockery. Their gazes collided, and John Roth's heart sank into an icy abyss.
Done for, he had kicked the iron plate!
Suddenly, John Roth felt a sharp pain in his wrist, so severe that he nearly went down on his knees. But the next second, the piercing pain vanished.
