The Reaper's Wicked Obsession-Chapter 210: Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned (2)

Isadora screeched—using all the strength she could summon, she forced him off.

She climbed her way through, disregarding the pain as her nails felt like they were busting apart, digging them into the wall with each pull.

A growl escaped her as she emerged at the top and collapsed against the ground, then began crawling away.

"Don’t let her get away!"

She heard multiple footsteps, and she was able to sense that two were closer.

They pinned her down, and Isadora thrashed desperately to break free.

She screamed and clawed at them, refusing to let them get their way.

"Why isn’t the dose working?"

"I don’t know!"

"Hold her down!"

Isadora seethed, fueled by the intent of survival and fury.

She screamed to their faces, kneeling one of them in balls, and he crouched away. She turned to the other, who slammed the back of his hand against her face.

But to his surprise, she turned her bloody features back to him, not a spark of pain or tears, only wrath.

His blood ran cold. "W-What are you?" he said the words before he could stop himself.

Why was she like this? Why wasn’t she going down and surrendering to her fate?

Isadora let her aura take control, using it to its fullest and invoked enough strength to push him off and climb against him, seizing his dagger from his holster and stabbing him multiple times.

The pain of being trapped in her mind for days increased her stabs and screams.

They violated her body, and every minute and second was hell. What they could’ve done to finish the job. The bones in the pit, all those women who didn’t have the chance to fight and surrender to their fates.

"DIE!" she screamed at his unmoving body. Her body, hair, and face were smeared in blood.

When she heard a movement behind her, she moved in a heartbeat, stabbing an arm without hesitation.

But realization struck her... this aura felt familiar. It wasn’t repulsive. freёwebnoѵel.com

Slowly, she raised her gaze and met with void eyes.

"Kra-Kraven?"

Kraven’s void eyes immediately relapsed, and his silvers came forth.

The soft timbre of her voice hauled him back from the depths. The glimpse of her amber eyes made his world more bright than it was earlier.

"I found you," he said in a ragged whisper, trying to glimpse if this was his mind playing tricks on him, a mirage his brain had conjured to keep going, to keep fighting.

But she was real, she was really here. He found her. After days of relentless search, after a mountain of bodies left in his wake. He finally found her.

The thought finally sank in, his heart felt like it was combusting from the warmth swallowing the organ. He crashed his lips down on hers in a bruising, despairing kiss.

He’d lost himself, let the thirst take control as he fought his way through the Hive. Taking bodies and everything apart just to find her. Praying that he wasn’t too late.

Every second without her cracked something within him. Every breath felt as if it was borrowed and no longer belonged to him. He was dead, nothing but a stack of flesh fighting for one purpose.

It was unbearable, it was hell. In his winters of livelihood, he had never felt so dead and lost.

No amount of kills amounted to this very moment he had fought for, raged for.

She was in his arms again.

Real. Bleeding. Alive.

Let the seven gods strike him now if this were a mirage. But it wasn’t. She was real.

Isadora pulled away, dazed from the kiss, but her panic was fueled by the dagger still in his arm.

She attempted to retreat the blade. However, Kraven stopped her before she could.

This particular dagger had brought him back from the depths of his insanity. She may have done it unintentionally, but it was needed.

"It’s okay," he mumbled, cupping her bloody cheeks.

Isadora’s lips quivered, still taken over by the shock; she didn’t know what she would do if she’d done worse.

"I’m sorry..." she whispered.

"There’s nothing to be sorry about. You did good," he praised, briefly eyeing the masterpiece behind her.

Pride blossomed in his chest as he placed his forehead on hers. "So fucking good."

His silver orbs moved to the Stinger pinned to the wall in fear; whatever Isadora had done to his brother had paralyzed him in a state of shock.

Kraven’s dark weaves materialized to erase the pest, but Isadora stopped him.

"Don’t." She held his arm tightly.

He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Isadora swallowed back the tears and steeled her voice. "Because I want to do it myself," she declared, turning to the Stinger.

There were still more of them, and all of them deserved judgment, and she was the judge and executioner today.

They would regret the day they thought they could prey on women.

She would be the last thing they saw, and never forget what it meant to underestimate a woman.

Isadora snatched the sword from Kraven’s grip and stalked toward the Stinger, the blade’s tip scraping against the ground.

"They prey on women. How many of them have suffered because of their disgusting taste?"

She pictured the stack of bones she saw... There were dozens. A dozen victims screamed and cried for freedom while they had their fun.

It all ends today. She’d make sure of it. She didn’t care if her body collapsed or if her breath gave out. She would give them the justice they deserved.

A smirk curled on Kraven’s lips as he gazed upon her battered body and the tunic that clung to her form, ripped and dirty.

He was fuming, eager to unleash terror at every single Stinger who laid their filthy hands on her.

But seeing her standing, unshaken, and screaming for blood, a sensation formed deep within his chest.

"What are you going to do, love?" he asked.

At this moment, he wasn’t her warrior in shining armor... he was her shadow.

"Make them suffer, and greet Daudi."

And she did.

The Stingers were wiped from existence.