The Unholy Bride: In God's Name, I Kill

Chapter 11: He, Who's Not Part Of The Game

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, my throat constricting as my heartbeat slammed against it. What the hell was he doing here, in my hideout? His hands were greedily gathering the photographs he'd ripped from the bulletin, like he'd found treasures he refused to let go.

Slowly, he turned his head in my direction with an impressed awestruck smirk on his face. "You're really plotting to kill your husband's entire family just because he's cheating on you?"

I let his chuckle linger through the four walls of the room as I remained silent, my eyes secretly wandering around to know how much he'd discovered. This asshole owns the presence I've been feeling lurking around me, and now he was here, discovering my secret.

"My, my, my, Mary... I never thought you'd be like this," he taunted as he unhurriedly walked closer to me, two fingers on his right hand lifting my husband's photograph. "Who would believe that a woman with the face of an angel, a voice as soothing as a lullaby, and movements as graceful as a swan could be a killer in the making?"

I stood still as he gently swirled a strand of my hair around his finger, sniffling it like he'd never seen a woman before.

"What do you want?" Finally, I asked.

He kissed my hair before fixing the way he stood to directly meet my eyes. "Mary, if you want to get even with your husband for cheating, you can use me. You don't need to kill the whole Steel bloodline. That's ridiculous."

I tilted my head, refusing to break eye contact, then I lifted my arm to caress his arm. "Use you? How, Noa? Hmmm?"

He tensed up, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, obviously affected by my touch, though he tried to hide it by diving into his senses to regain control. "You can use me all you want, baby. But let's talk about that later."

I was no longer surprised when he attacked me with an aggressive kiss, so I just wrapped my legs around his waist to go along with him and survive this encounter. He carried me, pinning my back against the wall and grinding his body on mine, making me feel the growing bulge inside his pants as his callous hand crawled underneath my shirt and his wet kisses went down on my neck. I waited until he was fully absorbed in the moment, then I quietly slid my hand to the table and grabbed a vase, bringing it down hard onto his hollow head. The force made him release his grip on me, but I quickly regained my balance, having anticipated the move. Groaning in pain, he pressed his hand to his bleeding head and uttered loud curses.

"You fucking bitch! I will kill you!" he roared, advancing toward me for an attack, but I quickly dodged and stabbed his shoulder using the scissor I picked up from the floor.

"I'm the killer in the making, not you," I muttered closely in his ear before I yanked the scissor from his flesh, his blood spilling down to his arm and chest.

My weapon grew slippery with his blood, so I adjusted my grip and prepared for another strike. But I overlooked his next move and my body was sent flying to the table when he kicked me. The impact was so strong that I struggled to recover and he succeeded in pinning me against the floor, wrapping his hands around my neck and strangling me to death. His veins were popping out of his forehead while drops of his blood from the wound I created on his dead dripped on my face.

I fought him hard, scraping his hands with my fingernails and kicking him with all might, but he just laughed at me and tightened his hold on my neck even more, completely cutting off my airway. I could feel my body going weak every second that passed while black spots danced in the air through my vision, but I refused to die today, so I did my best to grope something on the floor that I can use to fight him, until I got a hold of something sharp—a piece of the vase I shattered earlier. With the last ounce of energy, I clutched it on my palm and slit the sharp edge of it across his face, drawing more blood that spilled on my face before he fell on his side, shouting in pain.

Air finally filled my lungs and I gasped like it was my first time breathing, not wasting any time to stand up even though my vision was blacking out. Stumbling, I kicked Noa and carried a chair to pound on his head, earning another loud grunt mixed with my groans as I trashed the chair at him over and over again, until his blood pooled over the floor, darkening the color of the mat.

Wiping the splattered blood on my mouth using the back of my hand, I dropped the last piece that was left as a part of the chair and heaved a deep sigh.

"You're not part of this game, Noa. It's your own fault for forcing your way in," I said, my voice cold as I knelt beside him to check for signs of life. Once I confirmed he was gone, I dragged his body toward the closet, my hands shaking from the weight of what I had just done. It wasn't until I was done that I noticed tears silently tracing down my face, despite my attempts to remain emotionless.

I felt myself spiraling toward a mental breakdown, so I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes and focusing on taking deep breaths, trying to stop the trembling that racked my body. But my mind wouldn't cooperate. It kept demanding I feel something—some trace of guilt or remorse. But the problem was, I couldn't. There was nothing. Not even a flicker of regret, and that was what terrified me.

Taking the last deep breath, I dug my teeth on my lower lip and filled my chest with determination to put an end to the attempt to feel sorry because I shouldn't. This man brought this upon himself by forcing his way into a game that wasn't meant for him. I was the one who created it, and I alone had the right to choose the players.

I dragged his body into the closet, forcing it to fit as blood stained my clothes and skin, making the work more difficult with its slippery grip. When I finally finished, I padlocked the door and cleaned myself up before heading back to the mansion. There, I found Mason standing in front of an open door that wasn't his, presenting me with yet another striking revelation. Mason and I locked eyes, neither of us willing to look away. After a moment, my gaze shifted to the open door, where Catherine was lying naked on the bed.

My mind took a moment to process what the hell was going on, until I looked up and met Mason's eyes again. That was when it all clicked. He was having an affair with his best friend's sister. I had no idea how I managed to walk away from Mason, but somehow, I found myself in the bedroom, sitting with a grin on my face as I wrote in my diary.

Dear, diary

This day was awesome. I just killed Noa and discovered Catherine and Mason's affair.