Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 519

Chapter 519: Rage?

Ewan understood what Old Mr. Thorne was saying, could understand that he had to think of his children, of his Athena, but his hands right now wanted to strangle Herbert to death, wanted to torture him until the latter pleaded for mercy, until the monster’s pride broke, until his bones broke.

He wanted that feeling even though he knew it wouldn’t fill the gaping hole in his chest, but he still wanted that satisfaction.

Athena squeezed his hand again, and the feeling dissipated a little. More time with her might steal this feeling off him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that. His parents had been killed by Herbert. John too.

He wanted to tear something apart. Punch a wall, walls.

Restless energy coiled within him; so much so that he was mildly surprised he hadn’t combusted yet.

It was her hand, he knew, that soft slender skin in his that squeezed intermittently, that told him he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to fight the darkness, the pain, alone.

He inhaled through his mouth, exhaled through the same, fighting against the tears that had been begging to be let out for quite some time.

Herbert.

How could Herbert?

And to think he had defended him when Athena had talked about the structure deep within the underground of the hospital, and the tunnel that led to another structure where more variants had been manufactured.

The truth had been staring at them, and they had bypassed it.

The bastard had counted on them bypassing it, and they had!

He could imagine the smug look on Herbert’s face, watching them play around, looking for the culprit. His parents...

A tear slipped from Ewan’s eyes. He wiped it fast, excused himself immediately, and walked out of the living room—would have been faster, if Athena hadn’t tugged and reminded that their hands were intertwined.

But she followed him out, after excusing herself too, toward the hallway, up the stairs, and into his room.

When the door shut, he turned to her, such that her back rested against the door, and sank his head into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent like it was life, And then he let the dams open.

As he cried, he bawled, heart wrenching sounds that enlisted Athena into the weeping moment.

She allowed him to grip her tight like he wanted to meld them together into one entity, knowing it was either that or let him go mad with restlessness.

Hadn’t she been in the shoe when her foster mother had lost the fight against cancer?

She couldn’t hug Zack—the male hadn’t even cared for her—so she had hugged herself, rocking herself on the hospital floor, for hours, until one nurse separated her from herself, and hugged her.

Let it out, my love. She cried in her mind, rubbing his back gently, his hair, weeping with him, clutching him when she felt the need too.

And when she felt that it wasn’t enough—for she herself, not the victim in this particular story, was consumed enough, what about him then?—she gently pushed him away from her shoulders and started unbuttoning his shirt.

He looked startled, holding her hands, pausing the movement, their eyes saying what their mouths felt too ladened to speak.

She blinked at him once, and he let her hands go, let himself go too, as he covered the distance between their lips, their feverish hands getting entangled as they struggled to get rid of each other’s clothes like it was a race.

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