Eira’s POV
A delicate palm fell to the floor. Blood streamed along the wooden armrest, dripping down and pooling beneath the chair.
I aimed for her wrist, and now her hand no longer had a palm. The same hand which she used to drug Kael, and ruined my life.
Then I did what my ears truly craved. I ripped the tape away from her mouth with harsh tug and listened to her screams as they tore through the air.
She was in immense pain, of course she was. But there was no mercy left in my heart. That part of me had died long ago.
I glanced at Rafe. His expression held a dark satisfaction, as if he admired what I had done.
"Will she die from the bleeding?" I asked calmly, not a trace of hesitation in my eyes.
He chuckled and shook his head, already grabbing a cloth to wrap that bitch’s severed hand to slow the blood loss.
"The bitch is strong," he assured me, busy wrapping her hand. "Her self healing has improved because of your blood."
"Oh, really?" I murmured, amused, still gripping the cleaver slick with red.
The blade rose again.
Another palm hit the ground.
A fresh wave of screams filled the chamber, sharp and desperate, echoing like music to my ears.
"Damn it," Rafe said with a pleased laugh, staring at the second severed hand.
Both her palms were gone.
"It won’t affect her walking out of this place," I said.
"You are my smart girl," he added, as he got another clothe to wrap this hand.
I loved it when he took pride in the evil inside me. He didn’t judge me.
I looked down at my round belly and caressed it gently. "Baby, this is how you punish someone who harms you. Never be kind to them or show mercy, because they will kill you the moment they get another chance."
Rafe first slapped the tape back over her mouth. "Her voice is annoying," he muttered, proceeding to wrap another hand.
I could not agree more. "Everything about her must have been irritating since the day she was born."
"Can’t argue the claim," he replied.
She had turned deathly pale now. Tears clung to her lashes, her eyes squeezed shut as her chest rose and fell in faint, uneven breaths.
This bitch had once been so smug because of her beauty and wealth. I doubted she would hold onto either now. With both her hands gone, even preparing herself to look presentable would become impossible.
"She won’t die," Rafe assured me again once he finished wrapping the wounds.
I hummed softly. "Not being able to put on makeup or even dress herself must have been her worst nightmare before."
"Saves others from seeing her ugly make up painted face and those ass wipe kind clothes," he commented.
It almost made me laugh.
We had no regard to her pain.
"Someone is going to give her even worse nightmares while she stays wide awake," Rafe said casually.
I had no interest in knowing what Kaizan planned to do with her next. I had done my part, and a heavy sense of satisfaction settled inside me.
Rafe took the knife from me and placed it back on the table before catching my hand. "Let’s get you cleaned up. Her shitty blood stained your dress."
"My blood is no less shitty to your taste either," I shot back, since he never missed a chance to curse me.
"Only if you knew," he sighed, leading me out of the room.
"What do you mean?" I asked, following him closely.
"Good that it’s shitty," he replied casually. "If it were any different, I would have drained it out of you."
So having shitty blood was a good thing? If it were better, he would have drained me dry. Was that what he meant?
Yet something about his words felt layered with another meaning I could not quite grasp. Still, as long as he was not planning to drain me to death, I did not care.
Just like last time, he had everything prepared. He helped me clean up and change into another dress. I felt lighter afterward. Her blood truly stank, and even my wolf seemed disgusted by it.
We returned to the house, where the other four were still waiting in the drawing room. Their gazes followed me through the glass wall, making me feel oddly exposed.


VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Sold To The Alphas I Hate