Now They Want My Forgiveness - Chapter 259: Chapter 259
You are reading Now They Want My Forgiveness, Chapter 259: Chapter 259. Read more chapters of Now They Want My Forgiveness.
Stella flexed her wrist with a mock groan. "Tossing these one by one? My arm will fall off before I finish!"
Jordan plucked a ring from the pile. "Toss until you're bored. I'll clean up what's left."
With Jordan, Stella shed her usual guardedness. The avenger faded; tonight, she was simply a girl lost in the thrill of the game.
Yet Jordan knew the shadow hadn't truly lifted. The grief for her grandmother was a stone lodged deep, unmovable until justice came. But for now, seeing her happy was enough.
When Stella's ring finally hooked a giant stuffed bear, she spun around, eyes wide with triumph. "Jordan, did you see? I got it."
Jordan's smile was warm, his gaze utterly fond. "You sure did," he affirmed, his voice soft.
"Again!" Stella grabbed another ring, pointing eagerly. "That unicorn bottle looks easy, right?"
"Definitely within your skills," Jordan grinned.
"I'll give it a try," Stella declared, taking aim.
Not far away, Lionel happened to pass by, his attention snagged by the commotion. He stared, connecting this radiant girl with his memories of Stella.
When Stella was little, she always carried a spark. Even overshadowed within her family, her smile held a warmth that could lift the spirits of those around her.
Lionel had witnessed her sadness, but it was always chased away by a stubborn resilience, a smile that refused to stay down for long.
But after the kidnapping, that spark had been extinguished. It was as if joy itself had been ripped from her. Watching her now, a bitter truth settled over Lionel: the light hadn't died. She simply kept it hidden from them.
Suddenly, hands seized Lionel from behind, yanking him into the stinking darkness of an alley. No words—just the sickening thud of pipes and boots slamming into flesh. Lionel struggled, lashing out instinctively, but against the pack, his struggles were useless.
"Make it hurt!" a voice snarled. "Bonus cash for the messiest work. Just leave him breathing."
A vicious energy surged through the group at the promise of bonus cash.
Lionel had always been the golden boy, but now he was reduced to a crumpled, agonized heap on the filthy ground. Every blow landed with brutal force, leaving him defenseless.
When the beating finally stopped, his attackers vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving him a shuddering, bloodied wreck.
Consciousness returned in waves of nauseating pain. Each breath was a knife twist. He tried to push up. White-hot agony seared his ribs, dropping him back onto the cold ground. 'Who?' The question screamed in his fractured mind. 'Who wanted this?'
His phone lay nearby, the screen a spiderweb of cracks. Useless. Gritting his teeth against the scream building in his throat, he dragged himself inch by agonizing inch toward the alley mouth and the distant streetlights.
Then, he heard a familiar voice. Weak hope flared. He tried to call out, but only a wet gurgle escaped. The next moment, polished boots stopped inches from his face.
"A-Anna..." he rasped, blood bubbling on his lips. He had no idea why she was there, but it didn't matter. 'We were engaged once. And I'd been good to her. She must help. She wouldn't leave me to die,' he thought.
Anna froze. The crumpled thing at her feet was barely human. Then recognition hit—Lionel? A wave of revulsion and shock locked her limbs.
"H-help..." Lionel choked, hauling himself the last torturous inches. A trembling, filth-smeared hand reached for the pristine linen of her trousers.
Just then, Monroe's voice, sharp with concern, cut through the alley. "Anna? Where are you?"
Jordan plucked a ring from the pile. "Toss until you're bored. I'll clean up what's left."
With Jordan, Stella shed her usual guardedness. The avenger faded; tonight, she was simply a girl lost in the thrill of the game.
Yet Jordan knew the shadow hadn't truly lifted. The grief for her grandmother was a stone lodged deep, unmovable until justice came. But for now, seeing her happy was enough.
When Stella's ring finally hooked a giant stuffed bear, she spun around, eyes wide with triumph. "Jordan, did you see? I got it."
Jordan's smile was warm, his gaze utterly fond. "You sure did," he affirmed, his voice soft.
"Again!" Stella grabbed another ring, pointing eagerly. "That unicorn bottle looks easy, right?"
"Definitely within your skills," Jordan grinned.
"I'll give it a try," Stella declared, taking aim.
Not far away, Lionel happened to pass by, his attention snagged by the commotion. He stared, connecting this radiant girl with his memories of Stella.
When Stella was little, she always carried a spark. Even overshadowed within her family, her smile held a warmth that could lift the spirits of those around her.
Lionel had witnessed her sadness, but it was always chased away by a stubborn resilience, a smile that refused to stay down for long.
But after the kidnapping, that spark had been extinguished. It was as if joy itself had been ripped from her. Watching her now, a bitter truth settled over Lionel: the light hadn't died. She simply kept it hidden from them.
Suddenly, hands seized Lionel from behind, yanking him into the stinking darkness of an alley. No words—just the sickening thud of pipes and boots slamming into flesh. Lionel struggled, lashing out instinctively, but against the pack, his struggles were useless.
"Make it hurt!" a voice snarled. "Bonus cash for the messiest work. Just leave him breathing."
A vicious energy surged through the group at the promise of bonus cash.
Lionel had always been the golden boy, but now he was reduced to a crumpled, agonized heap on the filthy ground. Every blow landed with brutal force, leaving him defenseless.
When the beating finally stopped, his attackers vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving him a shuddering, bloodied wreck.
Consciousness returned in waves of nauseating pain. Each breath was a knife twist. He tried to push up. White-hot agony seared his ribs, dropping him back onto the cold ground. 'Who?' The question screamed in his fractured mind. 'Who wanted this?'
His phone lay nearby, the screen a spiderweb of cracks. Useless. Gritting his teeth against the scream building in his throat, he dragged himself inch by agonizing inch toward the alley mouth and the distant streetlights.
Then, he heard a familiar voice. Weak hope flared. He tried to call out, but only a wet gurgle escaped. The next moment, polished boots stopped inches from his face.
"A-Anna..." he rasped, blood bubbling on his lips. He had no idea why she was there, but it didn't matter. 'We were engaged once. And I'd been good to her. She must help. She wouldn't leave me to die,' he thought.
Anna froze. The crumpled thing at her feet was barely human. Then recognition hit—Lionel? A wave of revulsion and shock locked her limbs.
"H-help..." Lionel choked, hauling himself the last torturous inches. A trembling, filth-smeared hand reached for the pristine linen of her trousers.
Just then, Monroe's voice, sharp with concern, cut through the alley. "Anna? Where are you?"
End of Now They Want My Forgiveness Chapter 259. Continue reading Chapter 260 or return to Now They Want My Forgiveness book page.