She Needed My Blood, But I Needed Revenge - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

The first thing that hit me was pain—white-hot and searing, radiating from my feet up through my entire body. My chest tightened like a vice, and I gasped, clawing for air as my eyes flew open. The blinding glare of the hospital lights nearly drowned me.
I screamed.
The agony crashed over me all at once, my fingers twisting into the thin hospital blanket as I fought to sit up.
"Amanda! Hey—hey, breathe!"
Bryant's voice cut through the haze. I turned my head, blinking through tears to see him slumped in the chair beside me. His face was ghost-pale, dark circles bruising his eyes. A thick bandage wrapped around his forearm, the skin beneath already mottled with angry purple.
"What happened?" My voice cracked, raw. Tears streaked down my face as I looked down—my feet were swathed in layers of gauze. My pulse spiked. "Why—why does it feel like I walked through hell?"
Bryant's hand closed over mine, warm and steady. "You did," he said quietly. "The fitting shop—there was a fire. You inhaled too much smoke, and your feet…" His jaw flexed. "You got burned trying to get out. Do you remember any of it?"
Fragments flashed—the explosion, the suffocating black smoke, the door that wouldn't budge.
I swallowed hard. "And you?" My gaze flicked to his bandaged arm. "You got hurt too. Did you… did you pull me out?"
A weak smirk tugged at his lips. "Just a scratch. I'm fine." His thumb brushed my knuckles. "And yeah, I got you. Barely made it in time, though. For a second, I thought—" He cut himself off, shaking his head.
Before I could press him, the door burst open.
"Mija!"
Mom—Dorothea—rushed in, her face streaked with tears. She crushed me in a careful hug before pulling back, her hands fluttering over me like she was afraid I'd dissolve. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt? Do you need more meds?"
"Like I got hit by a semi," I croaked.
Dad—Andres—hovered behind her, his hand gripping her shoulder like an anchor. His voice was rough. "We're just glad you're alive."
I swallowed. "What happened? The fire—was it an accident?"
Mom and Dad exchanged a look. "The police don't think so," Mom said slowly. "They're investigating, but… someone set it. On purpose."
Ice flooded my veins. That locked door. The taunting voice in my memory.
"It was Nadia," I spat. My hands fisted in the sheets. "She did this. I know her—she'd burn the world down if it meant hurting me."
Mom hesitated. "Amanda, we can't just accuse her without—"
"It's her!" I snapped. "She threatened me! Said she'd make me pay for 'stealing' her life!"
Dad's jaw hardened. "Even if it's true, we need proof. The law doesn't run on gut feelings."
Bryant, silent until now, leaned forward. His voice was calm. Deadly. "Then we'll get proof."
I turned to him. "How?"
A faint, chilling smile curled his lips. "Don't worry about it. Just focus on healing."
There was something in his tone—something dark—but exhaustion dragged me under before I could question it.
Days blurred into a fog of pain meds and physical therapy. The morning of my discharge, I was half-watching the news when a breaking alert flashed across the screen.
"Nadia Smith—Fake Heiress Wanted for Arson and Attempted Murder of True Smith Daughter."
My breath stalled.
Security footage. Witness testimonies. A damning police report—all splashed across the screen alongside Nadia's smirking face.
"The Smith family has offered a substantial reward for information leading to her arrest. Authorities confirm the fire was deliberately set…"
Bryant walked in, discharge papers in hand. I stared at him. "You found evidence?"
He shook his head. "No. I made it."
My blood turned to ice. "What?"
"Fabricated. With some… underground help." His voice dropped. "But once she's in custody, we'll make sure she confesses."
A shiver crawled down my spine. "How?"
He stepped closer, his gaze locked on mine. "However I have to." His thumb traced my wrist. "I'll do anything for you, Amanda. Even if it means getting my hands dirty."
I didn't flinch. The fear dissolved, replaced by something hotter. Sharper.
"Good." My fingers curled into fists. "Just make sure you catch her alive. Because when I see her again?" I met his eyes. "I want to finish this."
If Nadia thought fire would break me—she was about to learn how badly she'd miscalculated.