Doomsday Revenge: Payback Time (Josie) novel Chapter 27

June stared at the lifeless, twisted body of her clite mercenary on the floor, her face paper–pale with absolute shock.

She couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed.

How the hell was this even remotely possible?

Josie had always been the ‘good girl‘–the straight–A, pampered student who took classical piano and ballet lessons. She had never stepped foot in a martial arts gym in her entire, sheltered life.

But those moves… they were too fcking smooth. That wasn’t luck. That was the deeply ingrained, lethal muscle memory of a seasoned killer.

Why?

Where did things go so horribly wrong?

“It’s a mistake! A total, massive misunderstanding!” June was the First Timeline Lead for a reason; her survival instincts kicked in, and she recovered her composure faster than anyone else in the room. “He acted on his own, Josie! I swear to God! I never gave the order to attack you!”

“I don’t give a sht if you did or didn’t,” Josie said, her voice remaining cold, steady, and terrifyingly calm. “Just remember the deal: you have ten days to deliver my supplies. Now, take your surviving lapdogs and get the hell out of my house.”

June gritted her teeth, her voice tight with suppressed, homicidal rage. “Fine. In ten days, you’ll have every cent of that ransom. Every single penny.”

She turned toward Sylvia and Arthur, who were trembling on the floor like beaten animals. “Mom, Dad… just hang on a little longer. I’m coming back for you. I promise.”

Sylvia and Arthur watched with tear–filled, desperate eyes as June turned on her designer heel and led her terrified, heavily armed men out of the

apartment.

As June’s sleek silhouette disappeared down the dim hallway and the heavy door clicked shut, the absolute last spark of hope in Arthur and Sylvia’s eyes died out completely, replaced by a cold, hollow, suffocating dread.

Ten days.

Ten long, agonizing days trapped in this apartment until they could escape Josie’s sadistic clutches.

Josie spared the two crippled Supers a lazy glance, her chin tilted high in a cold, aristocratic sneer.

“Move it. Start cleaning this place up. And that corpse bleeding on my rug?” Josie pointed to the dead mercenary. “Toss it off the balcony. I don’t keep dead weight around the house. If this living room isn’t completely spotless in an hour, you’re getting another beating.”

Josie was a woman of her absolute word.

If their cleaning wasn’t perfectly up to her exacting standards, she didn’t waste breath yelling–she just picked up the heavy velvet cord and started swinging.

It didn’t help their case that Arthur and Sylvia were Awakened Supers. Since Josie meticulously controlled her raw strength to make sure she didn’t actually kill them, their enhanced, durable bodies just kept taking the brutal abuse without snapping completely.

But honestly? Living like this was far worse than dying.

Her strikes were like lead weights. Every hit was pure, unadulterated, agonizing fire across their skin.

For three straight, miserable days, Arthur and Sylvia crawled around the luxury apartment on their bloody stumps, desperately scrubbing every single inch of the hardwood floors, the baseboards, and the windows.

They worked until their hands bled, until the floors gleamed and the air smelled sterile and chemical. Not a single speck of dust or drop of blood

remained.

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