Revenge After Divorce (Olivia and Nick) novel Chapter 270

Chapter 270 

+25 BONUS 

The evening air had grown thick with the promise of night as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the land. The darkness was creeping in, just as I had planned. It was time. 

Without a second thought, I approached her, bending down to scoop her up, throwing her limp body over my shoulder. She barely stirred; her body light compared to when I had first brought her here. Maybe it was because of how weak she had become, or maybe I was just stronger now. Either way, it didn’t matter. 

I moved quickly, my steps sure and steady, my mind focused on one thing, reaching my father’s grave. I had to do this. I had to finish it. 

I navigated through the cold, damp passageways of the catacombs, scanning the area around me to ensure no one was watching. The place was eerily silent, the only sound the faint shuffle of my footsteps against the stone. When I was certain we were alone, I made my way into the night, emerging from the catacombs into the open air. The moon hung high above, casting its pale light over the darkened landscape. 

As I approached my father’s grave, I saw what I had hoped for: it was empty. Luke’s men were gone. The grave was untouched. 

A sick satisfaction twisted in my gut as I laid Olivia down next to the freshly disturbed earth. The dirt was loose where they had removed my father’s remains, but it was the perfect place for what I was about to do. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air. 

I drew a knife from my belt, the cold steel gleaming faintly in the moonlight. My hand shook only for a second before I steadied myself. I had to do this. 

“I’m sorry, Olivia,” I whispered, my voice raw. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want her to suffer, but it had to be done. “I wish it didn’t have to end this way.” 

The words were empty, empty because I knew that I wasn’t sorry at all. I wasn’t. My finger tightened on the handle of the knife, ready to bring it to her throat. I had made peace with this. 

But just as I moved the blade closer, a deafening crack shattered the stillness of the night. The sound of a bullet splitting the air was followed by an overwhelming impact, something hard and searing slamming into my side. 

The force of the bullet sent me crashing to the ground, my body crumpling in an instant. Pain exploded in my chest, and I gasped for breath, struggling to process what had just happened. My hand dropped the knife, and I landed hard on my ass, my vision swimming with shock and pain. 

A voice, one I didn’t recognize, cut through the ringing in my ears, “I would like to see you try,” the man said, his tone cold and mocking. 

I blinked, my vision clearing just enough to see the figure standing before me. He was tall, dressed in dark clothes, and his gun was trained directly on me. I didn’t know who he was, but the anger in his eyes told me he wasn’t someone I wanted to mess with. I opened my mouth to speak, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. Blood was already seeping through my clothes, soaking into the dirt beneath me. 

I had been shot, 

I tried to focus, tried to stand, but the world was spinning. The pain was too much, and the coldness in my limbs was spreading quickly. The knife was still within arm’s reach, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. 

“Who the hell are you?” I managed to rasp, my breath shallow and uneven. 

The man didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer, his gun never wavering. I could hear his footsteps over the pounding of my heart in my ears. “Doesn’t matter,” he said coldly. “You are not going anywhere.”