Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 333

Chapter 333: Escape? II

Morgan was elated. Freedom had come. Finally, he’ll be escaping from this hellhole.

With his shoulders, he nudged the fellows beside him, while using his leg to gently touch Fiona, who had been chained to a rod near the middle of the room.

The three of them opened their weary eyes, fixing their gaze on Morgan, who had a triumphant smile on his lips.

"Idiot, what are you smiling about?" Fiona managed to ask through her dry, bleeding lips, annoyance creasing her features.

"The rescue team has arrived, my love. We will be out of here soon," Morgan said, his voice thick with hope.

Fiona’s heart soared immediately, her mind taking the hope like wings and flying free from one fantasy to another.

Once she was out of here, she would move straight to another continent; away from Morgan, away from Athena, and anything related to her—including Ewan. None of these people were worth her sanity.

Being here day after day, her priorities had been hammered straight, most especially after the incident a few hours ago, where she had been climbed by more than five men, while Morgan watched and screamed.

She didn’t think she had ever heard a more heart-wrenching shout. She had almost told him to keep quiet though, for his loud cries were preventing her from staying blank during the maniacal torture. It was a miracle she still had her mind intact.

To think she had told Morgan to do the same to Athena months ago...

Fiona shook her head. This was really karma. It was why she hadn’t made a sound until the men were done—not even when they slapped her while they were at it. She deserved it. All of it.

But maybe, the universe was giving her a second chance. Fiona swore not to misuse it.

She smiled when she heard Connor’s frantic steps around the house. She would soon be free to start over.

She smiled at Morgan too, not stopping when tears started streaming down her face unabated—soon, she would be free.

"Don’t worry, my love. I will make sure you forget all these terrible experiences. We will get married and have our honeymoon... it doesn’t matter that your body has been contaminated..."

Fiona smiled more, her face trembling with a bittersweet hope. Contaminated? Well, it was her fault.

Maybe she was pregnant, seeing as those men didn’t think to pull out. No. Not again. Once she was out of here, she would get medication. She didn’t need a baby to start over. She didn’t need anyone.

Yet, she kept smiling at Morgan because he was her only ticket out to freedom.

"Thank you, Morgan." She whispered softly, making a show of reaching for his hands as a damsel would, even though she knew she couldn’t reach him. She didn’t even want to touch him, didn’t want to reach him at all.

She let her hand fall when the bullets finally stopped flying. Was this it? Freedom? She allowed peace to settle within her, and she started counting the seconds.

Ten minutes later, the door suddenly barged open, startling her. Her attention snapped to the intruder. She held back a cry when Connor entered, smiling brightly.

Why was he smiling—and not bleeding? Why was he not dead?

——————

Dead bodies littered the environment, Florence noticed with a chillingly calm expression as she walked elegantly beside her husband toward the front porch of the house Ewan had mentioned—belonging to Connor, an associate of his.

But Florence knew exactly who Connor Brafus was. After all, she had once utilized the services of his old man. It seemed the thirsty killing instinct ran deep in his blood.

She was, in fact, more than happy that Morgan’s escape plan had failed. Yet, her mind was reeling—why had the escape plan even happened in the first place?

According to Ewan, it shouldn’t have happened unless one of them had been wearing a tracker. Morgan had been the first person to come to mind.

But, according to the agents standing guard around the house, who Florence could see clearly, Morgan and his men were free from any tracking software. So then, how could members of the Vipers’ gang have known?

"Are you okay, love?" Old Mr. Thorne asked softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips, concern flickering in his eyes.

"I’m fine, worrywart. You should be asking about Athena and her friend Susan," She replied.

Old Mr. Thorne chuckled. "No. Those two are used to this sort of carnage."

Florence scoffed lightly, her eyes narrowing as she perused the two women stepping around the dead bodies as if they were nothing more than logs of wood blocking the way. Her husband was right—those two were impenetrable by matters like this, just like her.

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