His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 39: Lured And Killed

Chapter 39- Lured and killed

Beatrice's POV

My throat dried up instantly. The air around me felt thick, suffocating. My chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked breaths, but no amount of breathing could calm the terror clawing at my insides.

I didn't need a soothsayer to tell me who they wanted to teach a lesson.

It was Declan.

They wanted to use me to punish him.

My stomach twisted with a bitter, ugly realization. Why me? Why did I have to be the scapegoat for his sins? I hated that man with every fiber of my being. I loathed him. I had spent years regretting ever knowing him, yet here I was—about to pay the price for his mistakes.

Did these fools not know that Declan wouldn't give a damn if I lived or died?

The thought sent a cold shiver down my spine. My lips trembled as I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak.

"Who... who do you want to teach a lesson?" My voice was barely a whisper, fragile, desperate.

One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek, shot me a glare so fierce that I nearly flinched.

"Shut up," he snapped. "You talk too much."

I clenched my fists. My body was shaking, but not just from fear—there was anger bubbling beneath the terror. They had taken me, tied me up like some sacrifice, and now they wanted me to stay silent? At the very least, I deserved to know what my fate would be.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "Please," I begged, my voice cracking. "Who do you want to teach a lesson? Why did you take me?"

The scarred man's eyes darkened. His jaw clenched, and he suddenly stormed toward me.

Oh no.

I had made a mistake.

A really big mistake.

I barely had time to brace myself before his rough hand fisted the collar of my shirt—what little of it was left after being torn from the ropes tying me to the chair. With a brutal yank, he dragged me forward and shoved me to the ground.

Pain exploded through my body as I hit the cold, hard floor. A sharp gasp tore from my lips. My arms, still bound to the chair, made it impossible to break my fall, and the metal dug into my back.

I barely had time to recover before a heavy boot slammed into my chest.

.

A strangled cry escaped me as I flew across the room, still tied to the iron chair. My body hit the ground hard, the impact rattling my bones.

My vision blurred. My ears rang.

A metallic taste filled my mouth.

I coughed, and a thick lump of blood splattered onto the dirty floor beneath me. My chest heaved, every breath a struggle. A searing pain shot through my ribs, and I realized with horror that I might have broken something.

My head lolled to the side, and I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision. The world was spinning, the dimly lit room fading in and out of focus.

Declan.

This was all because of him.

If only he had kept his word. If only he had held up his end of the deal.

But that bastard had never been reliable. And now, I was paying the price for his failures.

A shadow loomed over me.

I knew who it was before I even looked up.

The scarred man.

He wasn't done with me.

My breath hitched as he crouched in front of me, his face twisted with sadistic pleasure.

"I told you to shut up," he growled. "But you just had to keep running that mouth of yours, didn't you?"

He reached for me.

I flinched, but there was nowhere to go, no way to escape. His thick fingers wrapped around my throat, squeezing with ruthless force.

Air.

I needed air.

I gasped, choking on my own blood, my lungs burning as my body screamed for oxygen.

He pressed harder.

My fingers twitched uselessly against the ropes binding me. My legs kicked weakly against the floor, but it was no use.

The room began to darken.

This is it.

This was how I was going to die. Strangled to death in some filthy, hidden location.

My body sagged. My consciousness slipped away.

And then—

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A loud crash.

The pressure around my throat vanished.

I sucked in a desperate breath, air rushing into my lungs so fast that I coughed violently. My vision swam as I tried to focus.

A figure stood in front of me.

Not the scarred man. Someone else.

He was masked, his dark clothing blending into the shadows.

"I thought I told you not to lay a single hand on her."

His voice was deep, filled with raw authority.

The scarred man, who had been so eager to hurt me just seconds ago, was now trembling on the ground.

"I—I'm sorry," he stammered. "She wouldn't shut up. I got angry and—"

"And you thought you could do whatever you wanted?" the masked man interrupted, his tone ice-cold.

Before the scarred man could respond, the masked figure stepped forward and delivered a brutal kick to his chest.

The man screamed as he flew backward, his body crashing into the stone wall with a sickening thud.

Bones cracked.

I knew it. That kick had broken something.

The scarred man groaned, his body crumpling to the ground, blood trickling from his mouth. He looked up, eyes wide with fear.

"P-Please," he croaked. "I—"

The masked man grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head into the wall. Blood splattered.

I turned away, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat.

I hated that man. I hated what he had done to me.

But watching this...

It was too much.

"Now," the masked man said, his voice eerily calm. "Since you like choking people so much, let's see how you like it."

He wrapped a gloved hand around the man's throat and squeezed.

The scarred man choked, his legs thrashing against the floor, his hands clawing at the masked man's grip.

I watched as his face turned red, then purple. His movements became sluggish, his body shaking violently.

Then—silence.

The masked man released him.

The scarred man crumpled to the floor, motionless.

The room was deadly quiet.

The masked man turned to the remaining two captors. "Touch her again, and you'll end up like him."

They nodded frantically, stepping back as if they could disappear into the shadows.

I exhaled shakily. I wasn't going to die. Not yet.

The masked man started to turn away, but then he hesitated.

A slow, eerie chuckle rumbled from his chest.

And then—

He removed his mask.

My breath caught.

A smirk curled his lips. "You thought I was going to let you go?"

My heart pounded violently.

He tilted his head, his smirk widening.

"Joke's on you, sweetheart." His voice was pure malice.

"You're not bait. You're a corpse waiting to happen."

My blood ran cold.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over my skin.

"The person I want is already on their way." His eyes glowed with amusement.

"And the moment they get here? You die."