Chapter 538
When Sandy was alive, she had been used over and over by her, turned into a pawn to achieve her own ends.
Now that Sandy was gone, Dahlia still refused to let her memory rest in peace.
“Ah!”
As Wesley drew his knife slowly across her skin, Dahlia couldn’t help but scream
in agony.
But Wesley’s hand never wavered.
He wanted Dahlia to feel the pain-every ounce of suffering she had once inflicted on Sandy, returned a thousandfold.
Again and again, the blade carved into Dahlia’s flesh.
Each stroke, deep and merciless.
When he finished, Wesley began to peel away strips of skin from her back, as if she were nothing but a canvas for his revenge.
Her back became a grotesque sight, too horrific to bear.
Her clothes were already soaked through with blood, crimson droplets falling steadily to the floor.
The pain was excruciating-Dahlia felt as if life itself was draining from her.
Suspended, half-conscious, she could do nothing but plead for mercy, her voice hoarse and raw, but Wesley was deaf to her cries.
…
Dahlia’s desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. Just as despair threatened to swallow her whole, a tall, broad-shouldered figure suddenly appeared at the edge of her fading vision.
Though her sight was blurred by pain, she recognized him instantly-Charles. She saw him.
Instinctively, she cried out for help, “Charles… Help me… Wesley’s going to kill me… Please, save me…”
She was truly at her limit.
Blood loss had left her icy cold.
As death loomed closer, all she felt was terror.
If she wasn’t hanging from the ceiling, Dahlia would have dropped to her knees before Charles, begging for her life.
Her eyes pleaded with him, desperate for a shred of mercy.
He couldn’t just stand by and watch Wesley butcher her. Could he?
Charles came to stand before her, watching as her life ebbed away.
Without a word, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes he’d gotten from Andrew and offered one to Wesley.
Dahlia watched as Wesley took a
few
ern painkillers,
and bitter-and tried to tret
into
her mouth.
“I don’t want your drugs! No, stop-”
She pressed her lips tightly together, refusing to let Wesley succeed.
But she was far too weak to resist.
With a little more force, Wesley pried her jaw open and shoved the pills into her mouth.
She tried to spit them out, but they dissolved instantly on her tongue.
Whether she wanted to or not, she swallowed them down.
The moment the medicine went down her throat, Dahlia retched, convinced it was poison.
She fought to vomit it out, but all she managed was a fit of wrenching coughs. Nothing more.
The violent coughing only made her wounds throb, her face growing even paler.
She looked at Charles in utter despair.
How could he be so cruel?
But then, slowly, she realized something was wrong.
It wasn’t poison at all. In fact, she could feel her strength returning, the pain dulling and her head clearing.
The drugs were a powerful stimulant-designed to revive her, to keep her awake.
Her breath steadied, her consciousness sharpened. The pain, however, only became more acute.
That was Charles’s real intention.
He didn’t give her the drugs to kill her, nor simply to help her survive.
He wanted her awake, lucid, so she could suffer every second of Wesley’s torture.
The thought that Charles had been watching, just out of sight, as Wesley flayed her alive tore
at
Dahlia’s heart. Content belel
She had done terrible things, yes.
But all she ever wanted was to be with him.
If not for her overwhelming love, her desperate wish to never be parted from Charles, she would never have schemed so ruthlessly.
She had given so much.
Yet this—this was how he repaid her: with unspeakable cruelty.
Dahlia’s eyes burned red as she stared at Charles.
She watched as, seeing Wesley prepare to continue the torment, Charles simply
turned and walked away.