Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 72: Rescue Team II

Gianna’s stomach grumbled as she watched the men eat.

The sound betrayed her before she could stop it, a hollow, aching reminder of how long it had been since she had last tasted food.

They were seated on dusty chairs, knees spread, elbows loose, discussing matters in a language that wasn’t English.

Their voices rose and fell, punctuated by intermittent laughter whenever something in the conversation amused them.

When they heard her stomach growl, they turned toward her.

They looked at her for a mere second. Then they laughed.

"Are you hungry, for a pie, honey?" the first man asked, gesturing lazily toward the greasy paper bag on the crate beside him.

Gianna said nothing, even though she wanted the pie. That was how bad it was. How ravenous she had become.

"Come on," the man continued, rising slightly in his seat, his grin widening. "If you say yes, I’ll let you have one. Or even two..."

Still, Gianna said nothing. Her pride wouldn’t let her.

So she swallowed the spittle pooling in her mouth and turned her face away, jaw tightening, eyes fixed on a crack in the concrete wall.

But that quiet defiance didn’t sit well with the man. He mistook it for contempt. For superiority.

His ego bruised.

He stood up so sharply from the chair that the object scraped backward with a shrill screech, wobbling away. Then, he marched toward her, his nostrils flaring.

When he reached her, he grabbed her chin roughly, fingers digging into her skin as he forced her paling face upward.

"You think you are better than us?" he asked, glaring down at her.

Gianna said nothing.

That silence infuriated him more. So much more.

Before the third man could get a word in, the slap came—loud, sharp, ringing through the warehouse.

Gianna’s head snapped to the side, pain blooming across her cheek.

"Cool off!" the third man barked, though laughter still laced his voice. "She just doesn’t want to eat. You can release your anger when the boss comes. I think he’s on his way, if his last message is anything to go by..."

Gianna scoffed.

The sound surprised them all.

Her tongue darted out instinctively, licking the metallic taste of blood that had slipped from the corner of her lips.

"So you are not a man then," she taunted the one standing before her.

She had no choice.

She would rather he kill her out of fury than be used—used by them, or by whatever depraved boss they served.

As she had calculated, the short-tempered man snapped.

His hand shot out, clamping around her neck, fingers tightening, choking off whatever insults had been bubbling up her windpipe.

"What did you say?" he gritted, fist tightening.

But Gianna smiled.

Somehow, that smile tipped him off. He laughed and released her.

"The bitch wants me to kill her off," he said mockingly. "I can’t believe I was dumb enough to fall for her game."

Gianna’s eyes wet again at the truth in that declaration. Her game was up.

She shut her eyes when the man turned back to her, movements sluggish now, insanity edged with exhaustion.

"Come on," he teased. "Open your eyes..."

She did.

Her gaze landed level with his waist as he opened his fly, as his body reacted obscenely, as his rodlike penis bounced before her face.

"I’ve been hard since I got you," he said.

His two companions stood up from their seats. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"What are you doing?"

"Surely the boss wouldn’t mind if she sucks me off," he muttered in reply.

Gianna jerked her head back as it seemed to move closer to her.

"We have our orders. Back away from her," the third fellow warned.

But the man grabbed Gianna’s head, holding it in place.

"Come on," he coaxed. "You can’t say you don’t want to—"

The rest of his words were cut off, when a gunshot cracked through the air.

Pain exploded through him. His scream tore from his throat as he clutched his hurt penis, shock and agony contorting his face.

Blood flowed from a bullethole by the side of the piece of flesh dangling in his hand. He collapsed to the ground, bawling, seeping red onto the concrete.

All of it happened in a second.

His partners panicked.

Gianna dared to hope.

"Who is there?!" the remaining two screamed, pistols flashing toward the exit, terror naked on their faces.

"Boss, is that you?" the third man called out desperately. "I promise Cal moved on his own. I tried to tell him to wait—"

Another gunshot.

This one took the third man’s hand.

The gun clattered to the floor. When he bent to retrieve it, shaking violently, the next shot arrived—clean, precise—right at the center of his head.

He fell instantly.

The last man panicked.

He lunged toward Gianna, dragging her with the chair, gun pressed hard against her forehead.

"Any more gunshots and I kill her!" he screamed.

The first man was still groaning on the floor, but it was obvious—he was bleeding out. So, in a final surge of rage, the standing man turned and shot his wounded partner in the head.

"You caused this!" he screamed, as if in explanation to the dead fellow with eyes opened wide in shock and betrayal.

Then, to the exit—"Come out!"

Gianna’s panic surged again. If his hand slipped, she was dead.

But her eyes remained locked on the doorway, waiting—just as he was.

"Don’t shoot," a voice called. "We’re coming in."

Gianna broke then. A sob tore from her chest as she recognized the voice.

Athena.

Everything will be fine. She chanted happily. Everything will really be fine.

The man holding her was already dead—he just didn’t know it yet.

A small, hysterical chuckle escaped her when she remembered the first shot on the bastard’s penis.

Athena could be vengeful. Dramatic. She loved her for it.

Her shoulders loosened as Athena stepped into the warehouse, gun raised.

But Athena wasn’t alone.

Ewan followed. Then Sandro.

And Zane.

Gianna would be damned.

She had known they were inseparable in missions like this, as she knew Spider would be coordinating somewhere. But she had thought Zane would excuse himself.

Apparently not.

Her eyes found the sniper rifle in his hands.

So he had made the first shot... she thought, confirmed it too when their gazes met.

Her thoughts were cut short when Ewan spoke.

"Drop the gun and go scot-free."

"You won’t let me go," the man said, voice quivering.

Gianna knew then—he recognized them. He knew exactly who stood before him.

"But you’ll have my people to contend with—"

"Oh, fuck it," Zane muttered.

He shot the man in the leg before Gianna could blink.

And when Ewan laughed, Gianna understood.

The negotiation had only been a distraction.

Zane, rightly called Phantom, had been given his opening.

And he never missed.