Chapter 25
The man, who had never once touched a cigarette, now lit one with calm precision before ordering, “Take her inside.”
Heather’s eyes widened. The sharp scent of gasoline filled the air, and the realization hit her like a sledgehammer. If she still didn’t understand what Desmond was about to do, she might as well have been blind.
“Desmond,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she knelt before him, tears streaming down her face. “I was wrong. I know I was wrong. Please, don’t do this. Spare me this time.”
But Desmond remained unmoved, his gaze cold and unyielding.
The bodyguards seized Heather by the arms, dragging her toward the warehouse. She struggled, her pleas falling on deaf ears, before they threw her inside. Desmond flicked the cigarette from his fingers, and it landed on the gasoline-soaked floor. The flames leapt up, engulfing the air with a terrifying roar.
Inside the warehouse, Heather’s terror was palpable as she pounded helplessly on the door. “Desmond, please! Let me go! I was wrong; I shouldn’t have hurt Daisy. I’ll apologize to her, I’ll do anything, please don’t, ”
Her desperate cries turned to screams as the fire closed in.
Desmond lit another cigarette, taking his time as the echoes of Heather’s agony grew fainter. When the screams almost vanished, he calmly ordered, “Put out the fire.”
Soon, the bodyguards dragged Heather out of the warehouse, her body a charred, unrecognizable shell. Heather was still conscious, her body wracked with pain from the severity of her burns. She writhed on the cold, unforgiving ground, each movement a fresh wave of agony.
“Take care of her,” Desmond ordered the doctor, his voice flat and emotionless as he observed Heather with cold detachment.
After what felt like an eternity, Heather, trembling uncontrollably, collapsed to the ground, her sobs filling the air. She knew the horrors that had scarred her, the devastation that marred her appearance. Yet, to her shock, Desmond hadn’t finished her off completely, he had spared her life. But what she thought was the end of her torment was, in fact, only the beginning.
When Heather finally regained enough clarity to focus, she saw Desmond standing before her, a knife in his hand. Without hesitation, he slashed it across her face, the sharp edge cutting deep.
“Ahhh!” Her scream tore through the stillness of the night, raw and desperate, sharp enough to rouse the birds from their perch. But to the men and women standing around her, the scene was met with chilling indifference. Their faces were stone cold as they watched the brutality unfold.
It wasn’t until Heather passed out from the unbearable pain that Desmond finally stopped. Rising to his feet, he casually ordered, “Take her back.”
When Heather regained consciousness, she found herself bound to a cold, unforgiving iron bed, surrounded by equipment she recognized all too well. A violent tremor racked her body as realization dawned, Desmond had every intention of making her pay for every ounce of pain she had caused Daisy, returning it tenfold. Now, she was nothing more than a fish at the mercy of a predator, unable to fight back.
The cycle of screams began anew. Heather couldn’t help but curse herself for getting into Desmond’s car. In comparison to this agony, prison would have been a mercy. But regret was a luxury she no longer had. All that remained was an ocean of remorse, drowning her with each passing second.
After enduring the electrical shocks, Heather’s once strong spirit was now a shadow of itself. Her vitality had been drained by ninety percent, leaving only the faintest breath in her body. She was discarded, thrown into the wilderness as though she were nothing.
Daisy, who had always possessed a few outdoor survival skills, stumbled upon a hollow tree stump to hide in. She survived for five days, sipping rainwater to keep herself alive. But Heather wasn’t so lucky. As soon as she was discarded, the scent of her blood drew wild beasts.
Heather, barely clinging to life, couldn’t even scream. Her vision blurred, and the last thing she saw was the gaping maw of a brown bear, stained with blood, drawing closer.
Desmond stood coldly, his gaze unwavering as the bear dragged Heather’s lifeless body deeper into the forest. His expression remained unchanged.
A subordinate quietly reported, “We’ve let Samuel go.”
“Do as I instructed,” Desmond said softly, calmly.
Samuel didn’t know what Desmond had done to Heather, but from the coldness in Desmond’s eyes, he knew her fate was sealed. Despite having favored this illegitimate daughter, Samuel understood that in moments of danger, survival came first. After all, when a man doesn’t protect his own skin, the world will chew him up and spit him out.
