Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 392

Vivienne smoothly slipped the knife from his grasp.

Backlit by the dim light, Balthazar's hands paused at his belt.

Thud.

The next second, the knife was tossed off the bed.

"Let's not play with dangerous toys in bed. What if someone gets hurt?" Vivienne murmured.

As the two on the bed continued their intimate friction, Balthazar could no longer suppress his surging lust. He eagerly undid his belt.

No!

If this continued, he was going to lose control.

Cyril turned his head, resting his cheek against Vivienne's hair. "Get off," he rasped.

"No," Vivienne breathed, grabbing his hand and guiding it toward the hem of her dress.

Cyril felt something snap inside his mind. The last thread of his sanity was gone.

"I said no!"

Using his remaining strength, he rolled to the side, trying to throw her off. But Vivienne anticipated the move. She grabbed the bloody sheets beneath them and threw her arms around his neck, pulling them both into a tight, tangled roll across the mattress.

Both of their young bodies were burning up.

Vivienne lost focus for a fraction of a second, and that was all it took. A scorching hand slipped under her dress, stopping only when it brushed against the fruit knife strapped to her thigh.

During their frantic scuffle, the blade had already sliced into her skin.

Cyril paused when his fingers found the fresh wound.

Seeing them wrapped in the sheets, Balthazar stepped forward and yanked the covers away. Cyril was pinning Vivienne beneath him, one hand wrapped loosely around her throat while her long hair spilled wildly across his chest.

It was a scene of raw, intoxicating tension.

The sight fueled Balthazar's depravity. Completely stripped down, he let out a wicked laugh and pressed down on Cyril's shoulder, reaching for the boy's pants.

Cyril's expression darkened. The moment Balthazar leaned in, Cyril drew the hidden fruit knife and drove it upward, plunging it straight into Balthazar's chest.

Squelch.

Hot blood sprayed into the air.

Balthazar stared at the blade protruding from his chest in disbelief. How could he forget? There were two knives.

"Die, you little bitch!"

The man lunged at her like a rabid wolf.

Bang!

A gunshot tore through the room.

The man's body jerked violently before he collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Cyril sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the gun with both hands. His eyes were ablaze with pure, unadulterated ruthlessness.

Balthazar stared at the ceiling, his eyes wide with shock. "Don't... don't kill me. If I die in Athelvia, the Ravenshire family... will be in trouble."

Cyril racked the slide, aiming the barrel dead center at the man's forehead.

A flicker of genuine panic finally broke through Balthazar's eyes. "Don't... don't shoot. I... I am your—"

Bang!

The bullet pierced his skull, ending the sentence forever.