Her Revenge

Chapter 59

Valencia

I waited patiently as I sat in the corner of the room. Did he not notice me? Or the blood I reeked of? Bringing my head to my nose I smelled it. I could still smell the traces of blood even though I had washed myself in Sophia's bathroom. I guess even she hadn't woken up. Maybe she couldn't smell the difference between blood and all the other perfumes in her room.

I had killed a guard on my way up to her room. The security was tight there but I had learned my ways. His blood had soaked my clothes but I didn't care. my hands dripped from it as I pulled the knife from his abdomen. It wasn't my intention to go and do something like this but yet I had. All I wanted was to see where Viktor was. What made Sophia better than me?

Because from the beginning she was the golden daughter. Viktor and Demyan were both under her fingers. Demyan might not have loved her but he was going to marry her and what Viktor was to her was still unknown to me but I knew they were lovers. I was curious because I knew in the deep end she was going to have one of them. Her father had her secure. Both the men wanted her while I on the other hand became nothing but a pawn.

What they forgot though was that I was a queen and one that never bowed.

The ringing of his phone made my face lit up. I saw his hand reach for it as he sat up. With squinted eyes, he looked up at the name and just picked up the phone. The place I had chosen to sit in was still drowned in darkness but could he smell me? Or was he still half asleep? He had taught me to be silent, to be a shadow, to be observant of my surroundings, to smell the change, to never be comfortable even in my sleep and suddenly it felt like he knew nothing of it.

Like all that was a hoax of a talk, just mere words for him but a life lesson for me. It felt like a betrayal. Maybe it was because I was wearing Sophia's clothes.

"What happened?" I heard him ask as I watched him carefully. I saw the creases draw over his forehead as the other person said a lot. What did I ever like about this person to let him even touch me?

"Let me see to it," his words came out strained and my lips could just widen in a smile like a psycho. The knife in my hand felt light as a feather. He was worried as he cut off the call. At least he was awake now. I had him where he was.

"Hello husband," I whispered and saw the change in his eyes. He had just moved his head in my direction as I made my move. My knife went right past his ear hitting the cushioned headboard. I pulled out another knife and ran towards him as his head turned back to look at the knife. It was all about who reached what first, him getting to the knife or me getting to him.

My legs moved right to the bed, straddling him with my knife on his arched neck, leaving his hand suspended in the air. I wanted to see him try and reach for that knife. I wanted him to touch it so I can make him bleed right through his throat. He just needed to reach out a bit closer and he could grasp it. Just a little arch of his neck, a little push, and the edge of my knife would slide over his skin letting the beads of blood escape through the cut until it flowed violently.

"Did you miss me?" I asked with a tilt of my head. His eyes moved back to me and his hand pushing to reach the knife slackened. Yet I doubted him. Any man could give me his head on a fucking platter and I will still not believe in him, that's how far my trust issues went now.

"Is there a reason to?" He said the wrong words. My hand pushed over his skin with a slight pressure until the barrier of his skin broke and I saw the first bead of blood before I eased off the pressure again.

"Should have been," I pulled the other knife out of the headboard securing it. "I really hate games, you know."

"I hate them with a vicinity that I won't mind making them bleed at all," I added as he stared at me. There was a strain on his face.