Blood And Promises Novel by Sabrina Hart Chapter 16

Blood And Promises Novel by Sabrina Hart Chapter 16

The first photo: Rebecca faced away from the camera, but it was clear that she was wrapping a rope around her own wrist, the knot loose.

The second photo: Meredith’s face twisted with rage as she raised a cane high and lashed down hard. In front of her, Samantha was tied to a chair, her head drooping weakly, her back exposed through torn clothing, revealing bloody welts where her skin had been split open.

The third photo: Rebecca crouched in front of Samantha, holding a paper packet, pouring white granules onto Samantha’s bloody wounds. Samantha’s head was thrown back, her neck strained in agony, eyes tightly shut, lips bitten until they bled, her entire face contorted by unbearable pain.

The fourth photo: Rebecca and Meredith, one on each side, dragged the barely breathing, blood-soaked Samantha to a deserted field and tossed her aside like garbage. Then the two turned and got into the car, speeding away.

“Puh-!”

Richard stared fixedly at those four photos, his pupils dilated to the extreme, his breath halted. The next second, a rush of metallic sweetness surged up his throat, and he bent over uncontrollably, spraying a mouthful of blood onto the cold fax machine that was still spitting out images.

Blood splattered onto the photos, staining Samantha’s pale, agonized face, and also coloring Rebecca’s gentle mask, revealing her venomous, ghost-like true nature.

So it was real.

Every word she had said was true. Covered in blood, battered and bruised, beaten by his ‘beloved’ with a cane, salt poured onto her wounds, then discarded like trash in the wilderness.

And what had he been doing? He had been questioning her, doubting her, forcing her to admit fault for another woman, handing her over to that venomous woman for ‘discipline’ for a whole day!

He suddenly swept his hand, knocking the fax machine and the blood-stained photos to the floor, the machine crashing against the wall, parts scattering everywhere. Yet he felt no pain, only as if an invisible hand had ripped out his heart and crushed it to pieces. Endless regret, rage, and self-loathing burned through his organs like molten lava.

He grabbed his coat and rushed out of the room like a beast that had lost its mind.

In the luxury ward of a military hospital in New York.

Rebecca was half-reclining against the headboard, taking small bites of an apple peeled by the guard. She was calculating that Richard had gone to Junction City for several days and should have returned in defeat by now. When he came back, she would ‘persuade’ him again. A woman like Samantha, so flirtatious, was better off gone…

The ward door was slammed open with a loud bang, hitting the wall and echoing through the room. Rebecca was startled and looked up, only to see Richard standing in the doorway, backlit so his expression was unclear, but the violent, stormy aura he exuded made the temperature in the room plummet.

“Richie? You’re back?” Rebecca was shocked inside, but her face quickly bloomed with a surprised yet aggrieved smile as she struggled to get out of bed. “You finally came back, I…”

Her words were abruptly cut off.

Richard strode to the bedside in a few steps and, without warning, slammed a stack of photos hard against her face! The sharp edge of the photos grazed her delicate cheek, causing a slight sting.

Rebecca stared down in shock, and when she saw the images scattered across the white sheets, all color drained from her face, her lips trembling uncontrollably.

“Explain.” Richard’s voice was low and deep, as if squeezed from the depths of hell, every word wrapped in shards of ice.

Rebecca shuddered all over, seized by overwhelming fear. But she forced herself to stay calm, raised tearful eyes, and tried to grasp the last thread of hope: “Richie… listen to me… this is slander! It’s Samantha! She forged these photos to frame me! You know she hates me, she’ll do anything! Look at the injury on my face, she pushed me…”

“Rebecca!” Richard interrupted her, pronouncing her name word by word, as if chewing something utterly disgusting.

Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed her throat! He did not squeeze tightly, but his hand was cold as iron pincers, clamping her neck with a force that could destroy everything. He leaned in close, his bloodshot eyes locked onto hers, no trace of warmth left, only a thick, unyielding disgust and murderous intent.

“I’ll ask you one last time.” His voice was hoarse, carrying a nearly calm madness. “That night at the crematorium, what really happened? What did you do to her?”

The suffocating grip on her neck and the unrestrained cruelty in Richard’s eyes completely shattered Rebecca’s psychological defenses. She knew Richard too well; when he looked at someone like this, he truly meant to kill.

“It was me! I did it! It was all me!” She broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, tears and snot streaming, no longer caring about pretense. “Because I hate her! I hate her so much! Why should she marry you? Why should she get your attention, your protection? I was the first to know you! I love you the most! Richie, I’ve loved you since military school, for so many years! You used to love me too, didn’t you? You still love me now, don’t you? My illness is cured, I don’t need her blood anymore! Let’s be together again, let’s go back to how it was, okay? I’m better than her…”

“Bang!”

She never finished her sentence. Richard suddenly let go, not pushing her away, but throwing her onto the bed as if discarding something filthy beyond measure! Rebecca was caught off guard, her head hitting the bed, her vision going black.

Richard stepped back, looking down at her from above, the disgust and coldness in his eyes making her feel as if she had fallen into an ice pit.

“Rebecca,” he spoke slowly, his voice frighteningly calm, “you truly disgust me.”

Disgust. Those two words stabbed into Rebecca’s heart like poisoned needles. She looked at Richard in disbelief, at the man she had loved for over ten years and relied on all her life, who now looked at her as if she were a bug.

Richard no longer looked at her, pulling another document from his pocket and tossing it onto her.

“And,” he curled his lips into a smile devoid of any warmth, almost cruel, “tell me, is your hemophilia real?”