NOVEL NEXT Chapter 18: 18. Mercy??
Aurora crouched down, her face eerily calm, a faint smirk playing on her lips. Her sharp eyes bore into Vero's trembling form, sending shivers down his spine. "Now, now," she began, her voice deceptively sweet, dripping with mockery. "Don't cry, and don't get scared. Just tell me what I want to know. Or…" She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Do I need to spell it out for you? Or perhaps… you'd like to play a little more?"
Vero shook his head violently, his earlier bravado crumbling like sand under her gaze. "N-no!" he stammered, his voice cracking as sweat trickled down his face. "We'll tell! Just—just don't hurt us anymore!"
Aurora tilted her head slightly, her expression darkening as the corners of her lips curled in a chilling smile. "That's what I like to hear," she said, her tone laced with dangerous amusement. "Now, speak."
Another man, unable to take her suffocating aura any longer, blurted out in desperation, "It—it's the Smith family heiress!" His words tumbled out in a panicked rush. "She paid us… paid us to—to beat you up and ruin your face!"
Aurora's smirk didn't falter, but her eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unreadable. "How original," she muttered under her breath. "Go on."
The man hesitated for a moment, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Then… then she called us again later," he continued, his voice trembling. "She said we—we could do anything we wanted with you. Completely ruin you. She told us to make a video of…" His voice faltered, his fear mounting.
Aurora arched a brow, her smile gone. "Of what?" she prompted coldly.
"To… to make a video of us humiliating you," the man finished in a barely audible voice. "And… and send it to her."
Silence fell like a heavy curtain, the weight of the confession hanging in the air. Aurora straightened slowly, her eyes cold as steel as she looked down at the group of trembling men. "So," she said quietly, her voice as sharp as a blade, "Veronica Smith thinks she can humiliate me from the shadows, does she?"
The men dared not meet her gaze, their fear palpable.
Aurora's lips curled into a cruel smile, though her eyes burned with icy fury. "Thank you for your honesty," she said mockingly. "But I'm afraid you've made a grave mistake tonight."
She stepped closer, her movements deliberate and predatory. "Now," she continued, her voice like a predator toying with its prey, "shall we discuss your punishment?"
Aurora's eyes were as cold and unfeeling as the steel beams surrounding her. Without hesitation, she raised her foot and brought it down on the mobster's leg with terrifying precision. The sickening crack of bone shattering echoed through the factory, followed instantly by his agonized scream. The sound was primal, piercing the air and freezing the blood of everyone present.
The others flinched, their earlier bravado now reduced to trembling fear. But Aurora was far from done. She crouched slightly, picking up a discarded pipe from the ground. Her movements were fluid yet deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. One by one, she descended upon them, her strikes calculated and merciless. The pipe swung through the air with a sharp whoosh, slamming into kneecaps, shoulders, and ribs. Screams filled the factory, overlapping into a cacophony of pain and terror.
Blood splattered across the cracked concrete as Aurora's precision left no room for escape. The men fell like dominos, clutching at their broken limbs, groaning, and writhing in half-dead states. Her movements were swift yet methodical, her expression emotionless. She wasn't just fighting; she was sending a message.
When the final man collapsed, Aurora stood amidst the chaos, her breathing steady. The factory floor was littered with bodies—none dead but all rendered incapable of causing further harm. Her icy gaze swept over the scene, the chilling menace in her eyes causing the few conscious men to flinch.
"This is mercy," she said, her voice cold and resolute. "The next time anyone dares to cross me, I won't stop at half measures."
Dropping the bloodied pipe, Aurora strode out of the factory, leaving behind only the echoes of groans and cries. The frigid night air hit her face, but it did nothing to cool the simmering rage within her.
Reaching the car, she opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as the engine roared to life. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Cassandra, who was still sound asleep in the backseat, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.
Aurora's expression shifted slightly, her sharp features softening for just a moment. She pressed the accelerator harder, the car surging forward onto the empty roads.
She must not see me like this, Aurora thought, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. The city lights soon appeared in the distance, but her mind remained in the shadows.
"Veronica," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with venom. "It seems I'll need to clip your wings myself."
Aurora's grip on the wheel tightened as she maneuvered through the quiet streets, her resolve unshaken. Cassandra stirred slightly in the backseat, but Aurora accelerated further, ensuring her friend's slumber remained undisturbed.
They reached the apartment building soon. Aurora, wasting no time, parked the car and carefully helped Cassandra out of the back seat. Cassandra mumbled incoherently in her drunken stupor, leaning heavily against Aurora, who supported her with practiced ease.
In a few minutes, they were at her floor. Aurora unlocked the door, her movements quick and deliberate, and led Cassandra inside. Without a word, she guided her friend to the guest room, gently laying her on the bed. Cassandra stirred slightly, her head sinking into the pillow.
Once satisfied that her friend was comfortably settled, Aurora silently stepped out, closing the door behind her. She made her way to her own room, her footsteps heavy with an unseen weight.
Standing in front of the mirror, Aurora's reflection stared back at her. Her hair was slightly disheveled, stray strands falling around her face, and her cheeks carried sparkles of blood that glistened faintly under the dim light. Her phoenix-like eyes, usually sharp and resolute, now carried a flicker of something deeper—exhaustion? Resignation?
She leaned forward slightly, her fingers brushing the edge of the mirror as if searching for answers in her own reflection. "How much I do not want to become the monster I am," she whispered, her voice low and tinged with bitterness. "But people don't give me much choice, do they?"
Her eyes darkened, and a bitter smile played on her lips. "She thought I wouldn't dare to retaliate, didn't she? Veronica, you're so wrong. You don't understand—" Her voice dropped further, barely audible, "—the Aurora you knew is long dead."
The reflection in the mirror seemed to mock her, the once-innocent face now shadowed by the weight of her actions and the path she was forced to tread. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms, as her resolve hardened.
Turning away from the mirror, Aurora exhaled deeply and sank onto the edge of her bed. For a moment, she allowed herself to close her eyes, her mind replaying the events of the night. But there was no regret in her heart—only the cold certainty of what had to be done next.