Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife: The Twins Are Not Yours! - Chapter 524

Capítulo 524: Captives II

Athena didn’t feel her heart at first. She only felt the absence of it—an abrupt hollowing, a vacuum opening inside her chest the moment her mind understood what her eyes were telling her.

Antonio.

For a long, stretching second, her body forgot how to breathe. She stared at him, unable to blink, unable to form the shape of a thought. The shock didn’t hit like a blow; it hit like the cold of deep water—slow, seeping, paralyzing. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt sealed.

He shouldn’t be here.

He couldn’t be here.

Yet there he was, stepping closer as though drawn by her disbelief, as though he took pleasure in walking directly into the center of her stunned silence.

“You bastard!!” Ewan cursed him through clenched teeth—rage, venom, disbelief all twisted together—but even that couldn’t pull her eyes away.

Couldn’t free her from the sight of someone she had once trusted, once leaned on, once slept with, standing there with that expression. That disdain. That strange, triumphant disgust.

“What…” Her voice broke on nothing. She shut her eyes, once, hard, as if a blink could clear him from reality.

When she opened them, he was closer.

His smirk widened.

“What?” he echoed, leaning in as though savoring her trembling confusion. He reached out and touched her cheek with a familiarity that made her stomach twist. “Surprised to see me?”

She jerked her face away, gritting her teeth, a soft, hoarse sound of refusal clawing its way out of her chest. She shook his hand off her skin as though it were something burning.

Antonio’s expression changed in an instant.

The slap came faster than her mind could register the intention behind it. A hot, violent flash exploded across her vision—light bursting behind her eyelids, sound rushing out of the world.

Her head snapped to the side, and for a moment there were only stars drifting in dark water.

“Athena!” Ewan’s voice cracked into a raw scream. “You cowardly—!”

But the men laughed.

Herbert’s short, cruel chuckle. Antonio’s smoother, delighted one. Their amusement hit her as sharply as the strike had.

Antonio gripped her chin roughly, lifting her face, forcing her gaze upward. His eyes gleamed with something too close to enjoyment.

Ewan fought the ropes until the wood beneath him groaned. His face was flushed red with effort, the tendons in his neck standing out painfully as he thrashed. But the bindings held, cutting into his skin until welts rose, raw and blistering.

Antonio glanced at him, almost lazily. Then he hit her again.

And again.

Not enough to break her—no, he wasn’t aiming for that. He was aiming for humiliation. For fear. For the knowledge that she could not stop him. Each strike landed like a punctuation mark to some private sentence he had long kept buried.

Athena’s lip split. Warmth dripped down her chin. Her nose throbbed in time with her racing pulse.

Ewan’s eyes flooded, helpless tears spilling without permission. His voice cracked into hoarse pleas, then into threats, then into a low, guttural sound that wasn’t quite human.

Antonio didn’t look at him while he grabbed Athena again, fingers digging cruelly into her shoulders, dragging her closer. He didn’t look at Ewan when he forced his mouth against hers—brutal, possessive, meant only to degrade.

Athena’s tears slipped down her cheeks, born of pain, of shock, of the unbearable wrongness of it.

She tasted blood and despair.

Ewan’s strangled cry tore through the room, something deeper and more wounded than a scream. His struggles grew frenzied, ropes carving deeper into his neck, his wrists, his chest. His skin broke in places, thin lines of red marking the violence of his desperation.

Antonio kept his grip on her—hands moving with taunting control, claiming space on her breasts that made her recoil inward, trying to fold her soul away from the moment.

She felt stripped, not of clothes, but of safety, of dignity, of the version of herself that once believed she knew him.

When he finally released her, she sagged against the ropes, her breath unsteady, her vision blurred. Her cheek throbbed. Her mouth tasted of copper. Her ribs ached from how tightly she was holding herself together.

He struck her one last time.

Ewan’s voice was lost, grunts only escaping from his lips.

“Do you know,” Antonio said, his tone conversational, almost fond, “how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

Her blood chilled.

“You always walked around,” he continued, leaning down so his voice brushed her ear, “so high and mighty. Like you owned every room you entered. Like you were untouchable.” His smile warped. “Thought you were better than everyone. Better than me.”

Athena’s stomach twisted.

“And back then,” he went on, his voice dipping into something darker, “when we were together… you were always so headstrong. Naughty, even. I wanted to tie you up then too.” He laughed quietly. “You were so much more trouble than the others.”

Her eyes widened. “The… others?” she whispered, her voice barely there.

He tilted his head, amused. “The girls before you. I didn’t keep any of them long. Too clingy. Too loud. Too useless.” He shrugged. “So I did away with them.”

Her breath stopped again.

“Did away…?” The question barely left her lips.

He smirked. “If I hadn’t loved you, Athena… you’d have been gone in the first month.”

The world dropped out beneath her.

Her skin went icy. Her pulse screeched to a halt before lurching back in terrified bursts. Her mind scrambled, panicked, trying to understand how she had ever loved someone who could say such words, who could reveal them with pride.

I would have married him, she thought. Her stomach heaved. I would have married a serial killer.

Antonio inhaled to speak again, delight in his eyes, but Herbert raised a hand.

“That’s enough,” Herbert said lightly, though amusement colored his tone. “You’re making our guests uncomfortable.”

Both men laughed.

The guard dragged two chairs over with a scraping sound, placing them in front of Athena and Ewan.

Herbert sat with leisurely grace. Antonio sank down beside him, crossing one leg over the other, elegance at odds with the cruelty still humming from him.

Ewan glared at them, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. He looked ready to break something—anything—if he could just get free.

“So,” Herbert said, elbows resting casually on his knees. “How are we doing today?”

Silence.

Athena stared at the ground, her breath trembling. Ewan stared at Herbert like the gaze alone might burn through him.

Herbert sighed exaggeratedly and gestured toward the guard.

The guard removed his belt with a practiced, almost rhythmic motion.

The first lash fell across Ewan’s back. He barely flinched—his body too tense, too consumed with fury to register anything else.

So the second lash struck Athena.

Her cry tore out before she could bite it back.

Ewan roared, every muscle in him convulsing as he fought the ropes anew. “Stop… STOP IT!! hit me, don’t…!”

Antonio’s laughter overlapped Herbert’s, both of them delighting in the spectacle.

“She’s your weakness,” Herbert observed, smirking. “Always knew it.”

Antonio nodded thoughtfully. “You are right again, Herbert. Women are liabilities. Always have been.”

His gaze slid back to Athena. “But I believe it now more than ever.”

Okay… this chapter was troubling to write.

What do you think?

Read Gianna and Zane’s story in Dark Revenge of a Jilted Bride!