Page 78 of His Wicked Revenge

The next thing I know, my body is being pushed up against a brick wall, my back to my attacker’s front. He presses his body hard against mine to ensure I can’t get away.

“Wanna dance with me now?” This fucker.

What a piece of shit. Couldn’t take no for an answer, so he had to follow me? This is not happening tonight.

With the limited space, I rear my head back forcefully. My skull meets his nose. He groans, stepping back to hold his broken nose. When I turn, he is clutching his nose while blood spills out.

“You fucking bitch!” he curses, removing his hand and wrapping it around my neck. His blood is warm against my skin, and that only heats the blood inside me. “Walking around in this skimpy dress, flaunting yourself only to deny me a dance? You women take and take whenever you want without any repercussions. Now it’s my turn to take what I want.”

His free hand lifts the hem of my dress, revealing the laced underwear I wore strictly for Leo. Was I hoping he might be waiting for me in my apartment when I got home? Yes. He did tell me to get pretty for him.

The sound of the guy unbuckling his belt hits my ears, causing my stomach to coil at the thought of what he has planned for me.

This poor man. He has no idea who he is dealing with.

My hands are down at my sides, and I have enough room to move them. This guy isn’t even focused on my movements as I reach into my purse.

He also doesn’t notice when I bring out my pocket knife. I flip it open, and just as he whips his tiny dick out of his jeans, I drive the knife into the side of his neck.

He freezes, scared eyes meeting my vicious ones. “You fucked with the wrong girl.”

The man stumbles back, his bloodied hand pressing against his neck to try and stop the bleeding. It’s not long until he drops to his knees, no doubt getting too dizzy to stand. Losing a lot of blood will do that to you.

He falls from his knees to his back, gurgling on his blood. It must be terrifying for him. Staring up at a woman he thought he would take advantage of, now looking like a lunatic.

But that is what I am.

I straddle his hips, careful not to let his dick touch me. Clasping the handle of the knife in both hands, I raise it above my head and plunge it into his chest.

Repeatedly.

His blood sprays from his body, coating mine. I can’t stop even after the light fades from his eyes; I continue stabbing him. A deranged laugh leaves me as I choose new spots to send my knife.

Therapeutic.

That’s how this feels.

I haven’t gotten violent since I left the asylum. Not when I wanted to get rid of Francesca in California. Not when I wanted to slice Aiden’s throat in the elevator.

I held myself back.

Tonight, though, I’m on a roll—first Sylvia, now this sick man.

I run out of breath, and my arms become sore from the constant movement. Dropping them to my side, I sit here, appreciating my masterpiece before getting off him.

When I stand, I glance over my body, which is covered in his blood. From my thighs up to my face.

There is no way I’m calling for a car now. I’ll walk home.

Slipping my heels off and carrying them in my hands, that’s what I do.

Except when I sneak into the complex without being seen, I don’t end up at my apartment door.

CHAPTER 32

Leo

Who the hell is knocking on my door this late?