The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 224: [ Volume 1] Chaper - Your choice
"Stop her! Fight her beast! Do not let her leave here alive!" Her shrill voice pierced the air, but her words seemed to falter, lacking the fire they once held.
Esme’s gaze narrowed, her eyes flicking towards the fallen Second Aunt. Her lips curved into a chilling smile. Bending down, she picked up a thick, weathered branch lying on the ground, its weight heavy in her hands.
She tested it with a grim satisfaction, a flicker of dark amusement lighting her eyes as she glanced at the Second Aunt, who was now scrambling backward, her face draining of color.
"Oh, no, don’t move," Esme murmured, her tone almost mocking, as she closed the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. The Second Aunt’s eyes widened, her mouth opening as if to scream, but before she could, Esme swung the stick, aiming for her hand.
The sickening crunch of bone filled the air, and a scream tore from the Second Aunt’s lips as she crumpled forward, clutching her shattered hand.
Esme’s face remained impassive, her eyes cold as winter. She knelt beside her, gripping her chin firmly, forcing the Second Aunt to look her in the eye.
"I told you, didn’t I? You’re going to watch." Her voice was as calm as it was deadly, each word dripping with quiet menace. She stood and raised the stick again, bringing it down on the woman’s leg, which gave way with a horrifying snap. The Second Aunt’s scream echoed in the night, raw and filled with agony.
Leaving her writhing on the ground, Esme straightened, casting a look over her shoulder at the men, whose faces had paled as they took in the scene.
Her gaze hardened, and she lifted her weapon, letting the blood-spattered stick rest on her shoulder with a detached ease. Her lips curled in a dark smirk, her golden eyes glinting with unbridled rage and satisfaction.
"Time to take out the trash." Her voice rang through the night, laced with finality, each word a promise of what awaited anyone who dared to stand against her. With a cold, fluid grace, she strode forward, prepared to end the night in one last, unrelenting act of vengeance.
As Esme’s voice cut through the chaos, a heavy silence fell over the clearing. The bearers, once brimming with bravado, now lay sprawled on the ground, their beasts vanishing into the air like smoke, leaving behind only shocked expressions and crimson stains on the earth. They coughed up blood, the realization of defeat sinking in, their strength ripped away in mere moments.
Beom, his mouth smeared with blood from his earlier attack, prepared to launch himself at the nearest target, fury burning in his eyes. But Esme raised a hand, her voice firm. "Enough." The single word froze him in place, a commanding presence that held everyone in thrall.
For a brief moment, the women felt a flicker of relief wash over them. But as they looked up at Esme, that relief was swiftly extinguished. Her expression was icy, a cruel smile playing on her lips, and they were reminded of who she truly was—the woman who had unleashed that terrible beast upon them.
"You know," she said slowly, her tone dripping with disdain, "I could kill every last one of you in five seconds flat. But I’m feeling generous today. I’ll give you a choice."
The women exchanged glances, uncertainty etched on their faces. "What kind of choice?" one of them asked, her voice shaky.
Esme stepped aside, letting their gazes fall on Second Aunt, who was desperately trying to maintain her composure. "If you want to walk out of here alive," she said, her voice smooth and cold, "you need to kill her." She gestured dismissively toward Second Aunt. "In the most brutal way you can imagine."
The air thickened with tension. The women stared at each other, a mix of horror and disbelief washing over them. Second Aunt’s voice rose in protest, a note of desperation creeping in. "I’m the one who supported you! Don’t you dare!"
But deep down, she knew that her words were losing their power. When faced with the possibility of death, loyalty could quickly crumble. The thought of escape flickered like a beacon of hope, brightening their fear-laden faces.
Esme’s smirk widened as she savored the moment, the way their resolve began to crack. "You have a moment to decide," she said, leaning back casually in her chair, a spectator enjoying the unfolding drama.
Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. One woman stepped forward, shaking but determined. "What if we refuse?" she challenged, her voice quivering yet defiant.
Esme’s laughter echoed through the garden, dark and chilling. "Then you’ll see just how merciless I can be," she replied, her gaze fierce and unyielding, like a predator ready to strike.
The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. The women huddled together, whispers rising in frantic urgency as they wrestled with the impossible choice before them. Esme had turned their situation into a brutal game of survival, and she was the one in control.
"Start," Esme commanded, her tone laced with excitement as she leaned back in her chair, a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes. It was no longer just a confrontation; it was a spectacle, and she was ready to watch it unfold.
Seeing no path but the one before them, the group of women looked at one another, their resolve crumbling under the weight of survival. Loyalty was a luxury they could no longer afford when faced with the brutal choice between life and death. With hearts racing and hands trembling, they stepped forward, a collective movement born of desperation.
Second Aunt, standing at the center of this grim tableau, felt a cold dread wash over her as she recognized the determination in their eyes. "You bastards! Don’t you dare!" she shouted, her voice echoing with anger and betrayal, but it fell on deaf ears.
The women, driven by instinct and fear, ignored her threats, rifling through their bags for weapons.
