Chapter 95
Emily Windsor's POV
Lily looked at me suspiciously. "Emily, have you lost your mind? You want to stage a torture scene?"
"It's not what I want—it's what the situation demands." I locked eyes with her, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Luke nearly died setting up this trap. I won't let his sacrifice go to waste because I was careless. Do exactly as I say. Now."
Lily saw the near-manic determination burning in my eyes and finally relented.
She pulled out her phone and rapidly dialed a series of numbers.
Within ten minutes, two silent men in black arrived through the back entrance, pushing a stretcher.
I stood by the window, watching as Luke was carefully lifted onto the gurney and disappeared into the thick tree line.
In that moment, I felt my heart leave with that vehicle, leaving behind only a shell animated by vengeance.
"He's gone." Lily walked back in, now carrying a long black riding crop. Her expression wavered. "Emily, are you sure about this? I don't do gentle."
"Do it." I turned and strode toward the dank basement.
The basement contained only a single flickering bulb casting sickly yellow light. Rusted chains hung from the walls.
I removed my jacket, exposing my thin blouse, and gripped the cold iron frame with both hands.
"Lawrence's people are definitely watching nearby." I spoke with my back to Lily, my voice echoing in the hollow space. "Don't hold back. Only blood and wounds will serve as proper credentials."
Lily bit her lip, and the whip in her hand cut a vicious arc through the air.
Searing pain exploded across my back, as if a red-hot blade had torn through flesh.
I groaned, my fingers digging into the crevices of the iron frame as cold sweat instantly beaded on my forehead.
"Emily, you asked for this." Lily's voice trembled slightly, but her movements didn't stop.
The sound of splitting flesh echoed grotesquely in the silent night.
I closed my eyes, letting the excruciating pain wash over me. With each lash, I saw Luke collapsing in flames, saw Lawrence's revolting smile.
This pain—compared to what Luke endured—was nothing.
I lost track of time. My back went numb. Warm liquid trickled down my spine, soaking through my shredded blouse.
The basement air was knife-cold. Each breath carried the rusty taste of iron.
Lily's hand trembled around the whip handle, her knuckles white from the force. Looking at my mangled back, something wavered in her eyes. Her voice came out hoarse and barely audible. "Emily, that's enough... Any more and you won't survive."
I slumped against the cold iron frame, sweat dripping from my nose, creating widening circles of dark red on the floor.
I clenched my teeth, forcing words through the gaps. "Keep going... He's not here yet... The performance isn't over... Can't stop now..."
Just then, a heavy crash came from above.
"Miss Victor!" A subordinate stumbled down the stairs, face ashen. "Lawrence has surrounded the house! Several Victor family elders came with him—they're demanding you hand her over!"
My heart sank. That cold sensation of being targeted by a viper swept through me again.
"That was fast." I twisted my lips into a savage smile, staring hard at Lily. "Hit me! Now! And scream loud!"
Something resolute flashed in Lily's eyes. She raised the whip high, bringing it down with a vicious whistle.
This strike landed precisely on previous wounds. The agony shot through my nerves like electricity.
I threw back my head and released a piercing shriek—a sound echoing through the basement, carrying notes of desperation and shattered mortality.
The heavy basement door was violently kicked open. Lawrence's gleaming black boots crushed the shadows pooling on the floor.
Behind him, those cowardly Victor family elders filed in, each wearing masks of sanctimonious urgency.
"Well, Miss Victor, your interrogation techniques are truly eye-opening." Lawrence's tone dripped with mockery as he toyed with an unlit cigar, his gaze slithering like a serpent over my trembling spine.
Lily snorted coldly, casually tossing the blood-stained whip aside. She accepted a damp towel from a subordinate with practiced grace, meticulously cleaning the blood from her fingers. "Mr. Lowe, your timing is impeccable. I barely draw blood and you come sniffing around. What's wrong—afraid I'll kill Emily?"
Lawrence approached slowly, his smile not reaching his eyes as he surveyed the scene. "Miss Victor, isn't this little 'self-harm scheme' a bit too convincing? Miss Windsor's screams sounded rather... spirited."
The Victor family elders behind him chimed in. "Lily, stop this nonsense and hand Emily over to Mr. Lowe. We can't let the entire family pay for Luke's crimes!"
I collapsed beside the iron frame, hair scattered wildly across my face. Through the tangled strands, I saw the lingering doubt in Lawrence's eyes.
He still didn't believe it.
Lawrence walked up to me and slowly crouched down. That acrid tobacco scent invaded my space, accompanied by a nauseating chill.
He extended his slender fingers—nails trimmed round and clean—yet carrying the coldness of hell itself. He pressed directly into the gaping wound on my back.
The excruciating pain made my entire body convulse violently. My brain lost all capacity for thought, only capable of producing broken whimpers.
Cold sweat poured like rain. I clawed at the sandy floor beneath me, dirt and blood mixing under my fingernails.
Lawrence examined the thick, warm blood coating his fingertips, then studied my body nearly spasming with pain. Those perpetually mocking eyes narrowed slightly. The doubt in his expression finally dissolved, replaced by a twisted, dark excitement.
The injury was real.
"Miss Windsor, why go through this?" Lawrence withdrew his hand, methodically wiping the blood from his fingers with a silk handkerchief. His tone carried an oddly twisted sympathy. "Luke's already ash. What can this loyalty possibly get you?"
I forced myself to maintain the last shred of consciousness and slowly raised my head.
Blood and grime blurred my vision, but I stared at him intently, lips curling into a broken yet icy smile. "Mr. Lowe... You rushed here to... verify my wounds, so concerned about... whether I live or die... Is it because Luke isn't quite dead yet, and you're afraid he'll... come back for your head?"
Lawrence's movements froze.
The basement air seemed to crystallize in that instant.
Lily's breathing hitched slightly. The Victor family elders' faces went pale with fear.