Chapter 86 Go for Revenge
His finger pointed toward the dying men sprawled on the floor.
"Now it's your turn." His voice carried a dangerous seduction. "Your moment of revenge. Pick up the knife. Make them feel everything you felt."
Revenge?
The word felt alien, like it belonged to someone else's vocabulary entirely.
Could she truly have a chance at revenge?
Could she really make the ones who had hurt her—who had degraded her—pay for what they had done?
Her body began to tremble uncontrollably.
Not from fear. From something else—something stirring deep in the darkest corner of her soul. A bloodthirsty impulse, raw and primal.
The instinct to strike back.
Caroline had thought she would never feel anything like this again.
Alexander didn't notice the shift in her, but he saw the trembling and assumed she was finally afraid.
He smiled.
Good. She could still feel fear. Still feel terror.
Exactly what he wanted.
He wanted her afraid, wanted her shattered under the weight of her own emotions, to acknowledge her guilt, and to live forever under his shadow.
He straightened, his voice cold. "Originally, I had plenty of weapons for you. Thought I'd let you have some fun. But you didn't appreciate the gesture."
His gaze dropped to the single knife on the floor.
"Now you only get this. Maybe it's better this way. With a blade, you'll see the blood up close. Hear them scream. Watch them die slowly."
He paused, as if recalling something, then leaned close to her ear, each word sharpened with frost.
"Just like... Edith did."
Caroline flinched violently.
"Lost your nerve?" Alexander pressed. "You had plenty of nerve when you killed Edith, didn't you?"
Before the words had fully left his mouth, Caroline wrenched herself free from his grip on her hair, snatched the knife from the floor, and lunged forward.
Alexander's hand was suddenly empty.
He looked down at the strands of hair torn from her scalp, then jerked his head up in shock.
Caroline had already reached the nearest man—the one who had pressed the drugged cloth over her nose and mouth that day.
His eyes went wide with terror. He tried to scramble backward, but the guard behind him held him in place.
Caroline drove the knife precisely into his abdomen.
Not a killing blow—not yet. But placed exactly where it would cause maximum agony while he died slowly.
She was a doctor. She knew every vulnerable point on the human body, every place that could cause suffering or death.
"No... please... I'm begging..."
The man screamed for mercy as blood poured from the wound.
Caroline twisted her wrist. While he shrieked, she stared into his terrified eyes and rotated the blade slowly, deliberately, then ripped it free.
Hot blood sprayed across her white dress.
The man collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, convulsing violently, pink foam bubbling at his lips.
The guard holding him stumbled back, staring at Caroline in shock.
She noticed his expression. Gripping the blood-slicked knife, she turned toward the second man.
The one who had strapped her to the metal chair in the nightclub.
He recoiled in pure terror, trying desperately to crawl away.
She approached, tilting her head slightly as if studying him.
Then, in one swift motion, she slashed the blade across his neck, severing the carotid artery with surgical precision.
Blood jetted out in an arc, drenching her.
She merely turned her head slightly to keep it from spraying directly into her eyes.
Then the third. The fourth.
The overwhelming stench of blood finally snapped Alexander out of his stupor.
She dared to slip his control? To take revenge in this way?
The last time she had killed, he had gripped her hand, forcing her to make that first stab.
She had fainted afterward. Lost her voice for weeks.
But this time, Caroline's movements were practiced, cold, efficient. It unsettled him.
His carefully orchestrated game was spiraling out of control.
Finally, when Caroline pinned the nightclub owner to the floor and pressed the now-dulled knife against his throat, beginning to saw through slowly, Alexander couldn't take it anymore.
"Enough! Stop!" He roared forward, reaching for her arm.
Caroline jerked away violently. The knife sliced across his forearm.
A gash opened instantly, blood soaking through his expensive shirtsleeve.
He hissed in pain, reflexively releasing her and stumbling back half a step, staring at her in disbelief.
She looked up at him.
Their eyes met.
Alexander froze.
She was drenched in blood. Her white dress was nearly soaked through. Blood spatter dotted her lips, spreading evenly as she pressed them together.
For one surreal moment, Alexander saw the Caroline from before—the girl in the red dress, radiant and alive.
In those familiar eyes burned a hatred so intense it sent a chill down his spine.
The soul of the old Caroline was tearing through her emaciated shell, crawling out of the blood and carnage to stare directly into his eyes, as if asking silently, "Alexander, am I really the only one responsible for Edith's death?"
Alexander stepped back.
His meticulously designed revenge had completely unraveled. The cruel game was no longer his to control. And worst of all—her silent accusation.
The foundation supporting years of hatred cracked. His remaining rationality crumbled under the crushing weight of that realization.
"You..."
He lunged forward, grabbed her bodily, and slammed her to the ground.
"Shut up! You're the murderer! You! You killed Edith! You poisonous bitch!"
He raised his foot and kicked her curled form without mercy.
Caroline's frail body slid across the floor like a rag doll, slamming into the far wall.
She coughed up blood, fingers scrabbling against the concrete.
Then, impossibly, she braced herself on her elbows and pushed her upper body off the ground. She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, swaying as she struggled to her feet, and looked at Alexander.
Alexander's pupils contracted sharply.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
After everything, she still dared to look at him like that? Still dared to... stand?
"You have a death wish!" He stormed forward and kicked her shoulder with brutal force.
Caroline crashed to the floor again. This time she didn't get up.
A darker pool of blood spread beneath her. But seconds later, she began dragging her broken body forward, crawling toward Alexander inch by agonizing inch.
Her gaze never left his face.
In that instant, something pierced his chest—a sharp, cold sensation that made his heart contract.