Welcome to Hell
Chapter 213
Magnus Hale
I stand paralyzed, my heart hammering. The shock hits me full force.
The person in front of me…
It can’t be.
A wide smile rips across my face before I can contain it, so
involuntary that it startles me for a second. The seated man raises his
head, his eyes widening as he recognizes me.
“M–Magnus?” His voice comes out trembling. “I thought you were
locked up somewhere else.”
“Hello, boss. Or should I say… ex–boss?”
I turn my gaze to Adrian; his excitement is almost childlike.
“Is this your gift?” I ask, holding back the threat of laughter pushing
up my throat.
“Yes, love. Do you like it?” He responds, and the glint in his eyes is
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almost palpable.
I smile back, an electric satisfaction surging through my body.
“I do.” My words sound cold, but not without pleasure. “I might even
say I love you after a gift like this.”
Adrian’s eyes go wide at those words; the smile he gives me is so
genuine it makes my chest thud.
The man, my former boss, recoils a step, his trembling fingers
searching for something they can’t find.
“H–How could you bring me here, Thomas?” He stammers, his voice
drowned by guilt.
Thomas rests his hand on his son’s shoulder with a paternal
naturalness that makes me nauseous.
“My son asked for it,” he says, as if announcing a simple treat. ‘I
thought it would be an appropriate gift for my son–in–law.”
Adrian lets out a short, satisfied laugh.
“Have fun, my love.” His voice is sweet and sharp.
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The ex–boss tries to appeal with desperate words.
“I can get you out of here, Magnus. I’ll pay, I’ll do anything…”
My laughter breaks the silence–low, cutting, a thin blade slicing
through his attempt at pleading.
“Get me out of here? Right now, I don’t care if I rot in this place. I’ve
always dreamed of this moment: me killing you, killing everyone who
abandoned me.”
I approached slowly, the way a lion approaches its prey. He backed away, his knees giving out, trembling like a frightened rabbit.
“Please, Magnus. Don’t kill me, please. I was wrong; I was wrong for abandoning you.” His eyes filled with tears, begging.
I tilted my head to the side and smiled, wide and cold. I moved in without hesitation; my fists fell repeatedly on his face until he collapsed. I didn’t stop, getting on top of him and punching even
harder.
“S–Stop… Help… Stop…” His voice lost its strength until it vanished.
“I always gave my all for the mob. I always obeyed like a loyal dog. And when I needed it most, they threw me into this hell” The words
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came out sharp, each syllable draining a bit more of my patience.
The rage consumed me, and I didn’t know when to stop. I punched
him without rhythm, just to empty the fury, his face caving under my
fists, his breath vanishing between his teeth. My hands were stained,
blood sticking to the fabric of my uniform and warming my skin; the
metallic scent filled the room.
I stood up panting, my heart on fire, and stomped hard on his head-
once, twice, several times, like someone trying to mark the floor with
what was left. Even when the body went still, the rage still hammered
in me; I only pulled away when I felt I had emptied that weight. The
silence that remained was heavy and damp.
I look at the ceiling, trying to control my breathing, which still comes
in gasps. My chest pulses, my ribs burn, but a cold calm starts taking
over; the discharge of fury has left me lighter, more whole.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
