My Skin Needs Touch, Their Stomachs Turn novel Chapter 167

Chapter 22

When Sloane came to, her eyes were blindfolded.

Her limbs were weak, still reeling from the drug’s aftereffects, and her wrists were tied tightly behind her

back.

A sharp buzz rang in her head as she tried to think-who would possibly want to kidnap her?

One thing was certain-it wasn’t Declan. If he were taking her away, it wouldn’t be like this.

Soon, she heard a faint rustle nearby and spoke up. “Who’s there?”

“Sloane?” A raspy voice-familiar. “Is that you, Sloane?”

To her surprise, it was Declan. And judging by the sound of his voice, he was in the same position-bound

and left on the floor like her.

The moment he realized they’d both been abducted, Declan’s voice broke with rage. “Get out here! Is it you,

Vivienne?!”

As if on cue, the sharp clack of high heels echoed across the open space.

“No wonder I loved you for so long,” came a cold, bitter voice.

Vivienne stepped into view, crouched down, and yanked the blindfolds off them both.

Once the golden girl of high society, she now looked frail, almost sickly. Her expression was twisted, and the second Sloane locked eyes with her, something inside Vivienne snapped. She slapped her across the face

without warning.

“What the hell are you staring at, bitch?!”

Declan erupted, straining against his restraints. “Stop it! Vivienne, don’t you touch her! I swear to God-”

Vivienne gave a low, bitter laugh. “Right. You really won’t let me go, will you?”

“You’re probably wondering how I, someone you personally had thrown into custody, awaiting trial… how I’m here right now.”

She gave a mocking snort. “I took the lawyer’s advice. Pretended to attempt suicide in holding. Got transferred to the hospital for treatment. We’re the Blakes, remember? One phone call, and I was out Escaping from a hospital isn’t that hard when your last name holds weight.”

“Let’s not pretend-I never intended to let either of you walk out of here alive.”

Chapter 22

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From somewhere behind her, she pulled out a small knife. The blade glinted as she trailed it lightly along

Sloane’s jawline… down her neck. “Come on, Sloane. You tell me-which one of you gets to live?”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Sloane sneered. “You’ve already been crucified in the public eye. Feels good, doesn’t it? Dying while still alive.”

Declan struggled upright beside her. “Vivienne-it was me. I was the one who made your life hell. You want

payback? Take it out on me!”

“Let her go. I don’t care what you do to me. Kill me if you want-I won’t fight back.”

Vivienne finally turned to face him, her voice icy. “What if I told you I want your arms and legs crippled? I want you locked up, by my side, for the rest of your miserable life. Would you agree to that?”

Declan paused-but only for a breath. “Fine. I will.”

At her signal, the guards behind her untied his wrists and shoved the knife into his hand.

The message was clear: prove it. And he did. Without hesitation, he raised the blade and drove it into his

palm.

Blood gushed instantly. But instead of satisfaction, Vivienne looked unhinged.

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