Swift Revenge
Swift Revenge
Collins’s POV
The city’s pulse thrummed through the SUV’s windows as I drove to the warehouse, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles ached. The confrontation with Grandpa had left a bitter taste, his shock and silence was a victory to me, but it was nothing compared to the rage I felt now. Richard and Jenny—they’d orchestrated Amelia’s suffering, turned her life into a nightmare, and tonight, they would face the consequences. My men had tracked Richard down, and cornered him like the rat he was, and now he was waiting, tied up and broken, in the same hellhole where they’d held Amelia. Jenny was already there, her face ruined as a result of my last interrogation. They thought they could touch my wife and walk away? They were about to learn how wrong they were.
My men greeted me at the entrance of the warehouse, their faces grim, their nods silent affirmations of loyalty. “He’s inside,” Shawn said, his voice low, his eyes flickering with the same anger I felt. “Jenny’s with him. They’re not going anywhere.” I didn’t respond, my focus sharp as I walked through the heavy doors.
Richard sat slumped in a chair, his wrists and ankles bound with ropes, his face swollen and covered with bruises and cuts. His once impeccable suit was torn, blood staining the collar, his hair matted with sweat. He looked up as I entered, his eyes filled with terror, the arrogance I’d always hated replaced by fear. Jenny was in the corner, her body crumpled against the wall, her burned face glistening with fresh blood. Her sobs were muffled, but I felt no pity. Only rage.
I stopped in front of Richard, my voice low. “You thought you could use my wife as a pawn?” I said. “You thought you break her, and walk away? Start talking, Uncle. Tell me everything, or I’ll make sure you never walk again.”
His lips trembled. “Collins, please… I didn’t mean for it to go this far…” My fist connected with his jaw, the crack echoing in the room, his head snapping back. He gasped, blood trickling from his mouth, but I didn’t stop, grabbing his collar and yanking him upright.
“Wrong answer,” I snarled. “Try again.” I nodded to my men, and one stepped forward, with a steel pipe in hand. He swung, the metal slamming into Richard’s knee. Richard screamed, his body convulsing, tears streaming down his face. I leaned close, my voice deadly calm. “Talk.”
He broke, the words spilling out in a frantic rush. “It was Felix,” he gasped, his voice shaking. “I heard he liked Amelia, always had. I thought… I thought I could use her, offer her to him, get his backing for my deals. He’s got connections, Collins—military, political. I needed his influence.” He coughed, blood dripping on his lips. “Jenny helped. She wanted Amelia gone, wanted you. We planned the kidnapping, the hotel, the video… to make you hate her, to ruin her. I didn’t know she’d be hurt so bad, I swear!”
Felix’s name reignited the betrayal I’d felt seeing him with Amelia, but Richard’s casual admission—that he’d trade her like a commodity, film her suffering to manipulate me was a new form of rage. And Jenny, I turned to her, my eyes narrowing as she shrank under my gaze, her sobs growing louder.
“You sold my wife,” I said, turning back to Richard. “You let her be beaten, drugged, humiliated, for your own gain.” I grabbed the pipe from my man, my grip iron tight, and swung it down on Richard’s other knee. The bone shattered, his scream a piercing, his legs now useless. He fell forward, sobbing, but I felt nothing but satisfaction. He deserved worse.
I stepped back, my chest heaving, and looked between them—Richard, a pathetic wreck, and Jenny, her scarred face a testament to her madness. An idea formed in my mind, dark and fitting, a punishment that would haunt them both. I turned to my men, my voice cold and commanding. “Put them together,” I said, gesturing to the two. “Since Jenny’s so desperate to marry, and my uncle’s conveniently single, they can have each other.”
The shock on their faces was immediate, Richard’s eyes widening, Jenny’s sobs choking off into a gasp. “No!” Jenny cried, crawling forward, her hands clawing at the floor. “Collins, please, not him! I love you! I did this for you!” Richard cried along, “Collins, you can’t—this is insane! I’m your uncle!”
I smirked, unmoved. “You’re nothing to me now,” I said, my voice laced with contempt. “You both wanted power, control, so here’s your reward—a lifetime together, bound in misery.” I turned to my men, my orders precise. “Dress them up. Get a marriage certificate drawn up—fake it if you have to. By tomorrow, they’re on a plane to any town in some godforsaken country. Strip their passports, their IDs, everything. They’ll survive on their own, or they won’t. I don’t care.”
Jenny wailed, lunging for my legs, her hands grasping my boots. “No, Collins, please! I’ll do anything! Don’t do this!” Richard joined her, dragging himself across the floor, his broken legs trailing uselessly behind him, his sobs a pathetic. “ Have mercy, Collins! I’m family!”
I stepped over them, my boots echoing on the concrete, my heart steady with cold satisfaction. They’d touched Amelia, hurt her, and now they’ll pay—not with death, but with a life of their own making, chained to each other in exile. I paused at the door, turning back one last time. “I warned you not to touch my woman!”