Chasing My Pregnant Wife (Rosalie and Theodore) novel Chapter 1389

In the dead of night, the room was eerily silent.

Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed, completely bare, smoking a cigarette.

The torn pieces of Rosalie's wedding dress were strewn across the floor. Her hands were still cuffed to the bed, and she looked disheveled.

Her hair was damp with sweat, and her eyes were swollen and red. Her entire face was haggard and devoid of color, her lips bearing deep bite marks that had already scabbed over.

She lay motionless on the bed in the shape of a limp starfish. If not for the faint rise and fall of her chest proving she was still breathing, she could have been mistaken for a corpse.

Sebastian stood up.

He walked over to Justin's body and pressed his foot against his back.

"Justin, did you see how I claimed Rose? Did you hear her cries? I enjoyed them so much."

Sebastian's sinister smile was especially terrifying. Even Justin's blood-soaked corpse lying on the ground wasn't as horrifying as the smile of a living man.

"What made you think you could protect her? You're just a piece of trash who died by my hands! You could only watch as I did what I wanted to her. You're the most useless man in the world! You couldn't even protect the woman you loved!"

Rosalie hadn't fallen asleep. It was as if she had lost her soul, and she looked like a zombie. She slowly opened her eyes and turned her head, only to see Sebastian's foot pressing down on Justin's back.

Justin's eyes were still open, still looking at her.

"Justin, take me with you, won't you? Take me away with you," Rosalie cried out in her heart.

She didn't want to live anymore. She wanted to leave with Justin—whether it was to heaven or hell, she was willing to go anywhere as long as she could be with him.

Sebastian pressed the burning cigarette butt against Justin's face.

"Rose, do you see this? This is what happens when someone defies me. Tell me, how should I deal with his corpse? Feed him to the dogs, or grind his bones to dust?"

Rosalie's hands twitched slightly. The handcuffs had cut into her wrists, drawing blood. The pain was sharp and unbearable.

Her hollow eyes held only one emotion—hatred.