Chapter 143: Death Can be Your only Option
Hellen sat back easy in the old metal chair, its frame creaking low under her steady weight as she propped one heavy boot casual on the bed’s rusted edge.
She drew slow and deep on a thick cigar, plumes of gray smoke drifting lazy from her lips to thicken the stale, sour air already choked with rot and decay.
The cherry tip glowed hot orange in the dim flicker of the surgical bulb swinging overhead like a hangman’s noose, casting jagged shadows across the room’s grimy walls.
Her sharp eyes stayed fixed on Viktor’s wrecked body—flung wide and helpless in rough ropes that cut red welts into his wrists and ankles, his ruined face gone slack pale under the crust of dried blood and pus.
That grotesque flower jammed in his empty socket leaked slow pink trails down his cheek, staining the stained mattress below. His chest hitched shallow, wet gurgles bubbling faint from his throat.
She waited there still as stone, patient like a wolf circling wounded prey, cigar smoke veiling her face in drifting shadows.
Bit by bit, his last good eye cracked open—lid twitching heavy against the crust of dried blood and salt tears, the pupil flaring wide in raw animal panic as it locked on her shape through the haze, smoke curling like ghosts around her frame.
"Good call—you’re awake now, right on time," Hellen drawled low and smooth, her voice a velvet blade as she blew a fat cloud of gray straight into his face, watching it sting his eye red.
Ash tumbled loose from the tip, landing soft on his torn thigh where it hissed faint against raw flesh.
Viktor’s thoughts shattered into one desperate plea—death, now—for this alpha loomed like pure nightmare made flesh, a woman forged from cold iron and endless dark, her soul stripped bare of any mercy or light.
"You landed in a real bad mess here. Too damn bad, plain and simple," she said soft with fake pity, grinding the cigar’s half-burned end deliberate into the soft skin of his navel.
The sizzle bit deep, flesh charring black as fresh pain ripped silent screams up his nerves, his body bucking hard but useless against the ropes that held like iron chains.
"I’m sad about it all right now, you hear? So, let’s jump back in where we stopped—listen tight and take it all in slow."
She shifted forward easy, elbows digging into her knees, her warm honey-citrus scent slicing clean through the thick fog of blood and decay.
"I took out my relatives one at a time, Viktor—slow, up close, no hurry at all. Ivory figured my mother passed before the big kill started? She was wrong. Mom stayed alive through every bit, eyes wide open as witness. I sent her safe overseas first, tucked far from the mess."
"Eighteen went up in that blaze I lit—’mysterious’ they called it, but I hear those charred screams clear some nights still. They sound like music to my ears."
"Nine more slipped away right into these walls, broken day after day till I finished them soft."
"I will tell you the truth. I cut them down myself in this room with these hands. The ropes bit just like yours, tools shone cold like these ones, pliers tore deliberate."
"Then I dressed it all neat for the cops—car wrecks sudden, rivers swallowing whole, slips from high ledges. Grabbed everything with clean hands."
"Mom saw every drop splash down, caught every sob and prayer. Never once raised a hand to stop—gave quiet nods like blessings. I owe her that iron will she and my father beat into me young."
"Every relative dropped by my grip straight—hot blood right there on this floor—and I claimed every dime that belonged to us by right, poured it fresh into Herlos, shaped it sharp as a knife to carve your world open slow."
"You crushed me hard back then—nearly snapped me clean in two. Never even knew my name or saw my face true, but your puffed-up pride just gagged on a young alpha like me pushing bold, teeth out for your crown."
"Why? It’s just because of your ego. You forgot me, and my family. That made me sad. Very sad."
"Those days right after felt so empty and lost—cold with no solid ground under my feet at all, like drifting endless in black fog. But Mom pushed it plain and simple, which was a bit difficult for me to understand at that time."
"Drop that hate cold right now and walk clean away, girl—build something fresh and strong just like your dad always showed you how."
"She chased my best every single day, no matter how dark the road turned."
"But revenge pulled back sharper every time—fed my fire steady, kept that burn alive deep in my gut when nothing else could."
"Seeing you growing, made me feel suffocated... for every single day."
"Her death years later took another big piece of me straight down too—left a hole that echoed."
"Nothing real left to fight hard for anymore... Herlos lay there smouldering in total wreckage all around me, debts wrapping tight like these same ropes biting your skin now. Just a hollow shell inside, dead and quiet."
"But one black day hit rock bottom true—knife right there at my wrist, cold edge kissing skin soft and ready—I froze up solid, hand shaking still. TV blinked sudden life across that dark empty room—Emily shining soft and bright like dawn."
"Her live interview stumbled all cute and real—she scooped up a ragged tabby cat, pulled it close in her arms pure instinctive with no script faking it, no PR show for cameras. Just her raw heart wide open, spilling free and soft for the whole world to see unguarded."
"Then it hit me."
"My choice was to twist that sweet, trusting soul of hers into perfect bait straight for you—drain your whole rotten world dry one slow drop at a time right through her pure innocence."
"But as I said before—I never saw the fall coming though—I crashed straight deep into love with her full force, sunk so far down in that endless black pit now no rope ever pulls me free clean, no single dawn breaks through from up above anymore."
"Mom always told me to walk away from all this if I find someone who makes me... a human. Emily does—she makes me human."
"When I heard that she was kidnapped by you—I got multiple flashbacks. For the third time in my life, I felt that unprecedented anger—the need to kill you."
"So, I have a choice now—either to let you go, or kill you after I torture you to my heart’s content. Even when we meet in hell, I want you to be more scared of me than the judge of hell’s judgement."
"The latter is the one I like. Death can be your only option."
