Welcome to Hell (by Williane Kassia) novel Chapter 246

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Welcome to Hell

Chapter 246

Magnus Hale

I leave the cell with the tray, smiling and shaking my head. I’m

walking down the corridor toward the cafeteria when, suddenly,

someone pulls me violently into the bathroom and throws me to the

floor; the impact forces a groan out of me. I lift my face, ready to rip

the son of a bitch’s throat out, and I find Navarro surrounded by his

gang.

“Hello, executioner.” His voice is like a blade. “Looks like you’ve been

having fun with that monster.”

A growl escapes my throat. I push myself up carefully, feeling my

blood boil.

“Don’t call him that, you piece of shit,” my response is short and hard.

“I’m the only one who has that right.”

I let out a humorless laugh, staring down the five men accompanying

him.

“Still weak as ever. You need your little bitches to face me.”

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He lets out a hoarse sound; the provocation hits home. Suddenly, a

malicious smile spreads across his face.

“I just want to break your face. My friends do, too. I’m just giving

them a hand.”

I drop into a fighting stance, fists clenched, body ready to react.

“Then bring it on, you son of a bitch.”

But before I can even realize it, they lunge–all five at once.

Two grab me by the waist, another pins my neck, and the remaining

two grip my arms with force. The hold is suffocating, their fingers

digging into my skin; their hot breath burns behind me.

Navarro approaches slowly, wearing that sneer that makes me want to

rip his face off.

The first blow comes fast–a direct punch to the eye. My vision blurs.

Another hits my stomach; the air leaves me in a hoarse groan. I try to

break free, but the bastards hold me like iron shackles.

Navarro attacks again, fist against face. Rage grows, throbbing, and

when he raises his arm once more, I thrust my head forward and

catch his nose with a dry, satisfying headbutt. The sound of the

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impact echoes; he groans in pain, staggers back a step, but

recomposes himself with hate in his eyes.

“You son of a bitch!” he screams, spitting.

I drive my knee into his abdomen, making him grit his teeth, but the

movement unbalances me and I fall. The others don’t waste time;

they all descend at once.

Kicks. Punches. Pain. I try to protect my face and torso, but it’s

useless. Every blow is like thunder striking my ribs, my head, and my

chest. The taste of blood invades my mouth–hot, metallic,

nauseating.

Navarro reaches down, grabs the collar of my uniform, and jerks me

up, tearing the fabric. His face is distorted, his eyes bloodshot with

pure hate.

“This is what you deserve, you bastard!” he screams, spitting saliva.

“For everything you put me through!”

His fist hits my cheek, then my nose, then my mouth. My vision

begins to fail. Everything becomes blurry and distant.

He lets go, and my body drops; my head hits the floor hard. Another kick rips through my chest; the air vanishes again. Coughing hurts;

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breathing burns.

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