Page 142 of Gamble with Me
“I’m fine.” I frowned at him, yanking my hand from his hold. “I want to close this chapter of my life and move on.”
“You cried and screamed in your sleep, mon cœur,” he said gently, blocking my path further into the building. I blinked in confusion because I didn’t remember having nightmares. “You punched and kicked around you like crazy,” he continued, taking my hands into his again. “I held you the entire night so you didn’t hurt yourself.”
“I had no idea,” I whispered, my controlled emotions becoming chaotic.
“I know, and it’s okay.” He kissed my hands one by one tenderly, soothing the tornado in my chest. “I’m just worried this won’t help. Let’s go home, Valeria.”
“I can’t.” I closed the remaining few inches of distance between us, glancing into his eyes. “I need this. Please, trust me. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m doing it only because I trust your judgment,” Zyon sighed, evidently not okay with my request. “Otherwise, you would’ve been tied to the chair in my other warehouse.”
“Lovely idea for a Saturday night,” I teased, my mouth stretching into a smile when he flashed me an unamused glance. “C’mon. Let’s finish this so we can do much more pleasurable activities.”
“After this, you will only be able to puke and stare at the wall,” he mumbled, leading me toward the piercing light.
The dirt under my shoes cracked, and the cold sneaked under my jacket as we crossed a tunnel and entered a vast hall. My attention instantly went to the three naked men who glanced at something on the floor, but their bodies and the intense light prevented me from seeing more. I placed my hand on my forehead, creating a shield for my eyes when Zyon stepped before me.
“Tell him what you need to, and then we’re leaving,” he said in a voice that took no objections. I understood how much it cost him to take me here, so I obediently nodded, waiting impatiently until he decided to move to the side.
The men had already disappeared into the shadows. Zyon walked beside the metal table where different instruments were placed so I was finally free to look at the broken person on the ground. I took a few tiny steps closer, my heart galloping in my chest like it attempted to run away from this twisted situation.
The body I knew perfectly was covered with purple marks, welts, and bruises—some fading, some fresh. Chester lay in the fetal position, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face. His hair was messy and full of dirt and something that looked like dried blood. He shook violently, wheezing and gasping for air. He was absolutely destroyed, looking like a broken, used doll.
I came closer, scanning him and memorizing every inch of his suffering. My skin was covered with goosebumps, and I heard my heart thudding in my ears when an intense feeling of pure satisfaction enveloped me. I felt no regret for Chester’s misery—quite theopposite. I relished in the view of him, sobbing and trembling on the cold ground when he had no one to help him. He was utterly alone, without hope for a better tomorrow. It was his well-deserved end. As Zyon said, it was what he earned.
“Hello, Chester,” I said, stopping beside him. I towered over him, noticing the puddle of blood mixed with shit under him. My stomach curled with nausea, but I quickly overcame the urge to vomit.
Chester slowly raised his head, dirty, sweaty hair covering his hazel eyes as he peeked at me in pure disbelief. For a moment, he looked like he didn’t believe what he saw.
“Yes, I’m here.” I smiled gently, crouching before his face. I moved the hair away from his eyes. “I came to say goodbye.”
“You fucking bitch,” Chester hissed, realizing I wasn’t a product of his imagination. “You came to laugh at me!”
The footsteps behind me told me Zyon was ready to interfere, but I raised my hand to stop him. I had the situation under control. Chester couldn’t hurt me anymore.
“I have no reason to laugh,” I pointed out, holding his repulsive glare. Everything in me screamed at me to punch him, finish him and this nonsense punishment, not to free him from his misery but to finally end it and move on.
“You’re the biggest mistake of my life, Valeria,” Chester spat, his voice strained with hatred. A few seconds ago, he was all shattered and ruined, but my presence and the animosity he felt toward me gave him strength for one final act of hostility against me.
“One man’s mistake is another one’s biggest achievement,” I recited, not allowing him to get under my skin. I knew my worth. I was enough. His words couldn’t bring me down.
“Blah, blah, blah.” Chester’s voice echoed from the walls like a demonic whisper. “Do you really believe you’re Zyon’s biggest achievement?” He lifted himself into a sitting position, supporting his upper body on his elbow. “He has hundreds like you at his disposal. You’re not special, baby doll. You’re stupid.”
“At least he doesn’t beat me,” I said, refusing to argue with him about Zyon’s qualities. I was certain about my man. I didn’t need to prove anyone anything.
“He’ll start when he finds out what kind of whore you are,” Chester seethed, his face contorting with disdain. “I just hope our daughter will turn out better. But having you as a role model, she’ll be the same cunt.”
Without thinking, I clenched my palm and struck him with all my might. My fist collided with his nose and cheek, sending a pang of pain through my entire arm, yet I ignored it. I was ready to strangle the bastard for attacking my baby girl.
“Fuck.” Zyon whistled behind me when Chester fell to the ground, and I shook my hand to ease the sharp pain. “That was a nice one, mon cœur.”
Chester’s diabolical chuckle cut off my response. He covered his face with his dirty palms, but the unpleasant, piercing sound that made my insides churn escaped from between his fingers.
“You c-can fuck me, b-beat me, even k-kill me, but you will still be that naive little girl I f-found on the street, Valeria,” Chester said, choking with insane laughter. He was out of his mind, looking like he was possessed. The crazy glint in his hazel eyes burned holes into my skull. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I wanted him gone. Forever.
The adrenaline rush mixed with pure fury and raw hatred made the blood in my veins boil. My common sense was gone, chased away by the rage that clouded my brain and forced me to focus only on erasing my enemy.
Chester was the villain in my story. He almost destroyed me. Without Zyon, I would have been a wreck, living for crumbs of his love and attention that he would have conditioned with perfect behavior. I wouldn’t get anything if I weren’t an excellent wife, and the saddest part was that it was the same for Zara.
