My Accidental Husband Is My Revenge Partner
Chapter 392: Sounds Like Music

Chapter 392: Sounds Like Music

He tried to move but his hands and legs were bound by a rope.

"Where’s this place?" He mumbled.

Then the lamps suddenly turned on. "Great! You’re awake."

Mr. Russell blinked in confusion when his gaze landed on Anastasia, seated in a chair with her legs elegantly crossed.

Dressed in the same black, form-fitting attire that accentuated her curves, she looked both commanding and alluring. Despite his growing unease about the situation, he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, momentarily caught in admiration of her striking figure.

Anastasia noticed where his eyes were and could only shake her head in amusement.

"I see you still haven’t realized what is happening here," she mumbled to herself, but it was still audible enough for him to hear what she said.

It seemed her words had helped him snap out of his trance, and his confusion returned.

"Where’s this place? I thought we were going to the hotel before I...before I passed out," he said, face filled with realization.

Anastasia hummed as she nodded in response. "That’s right, but I decided to switch things at the last minute and bring you here instead. What? Don’t you like it here?" She asked, completely dropping her facade and voice.

However, she doubted he would recognize her true identity from only her real voice. Besides, they’ve only met once when she was still Anastasia.

"Where’s this place?" He repeated, struggling harder now to be loose from his bounds.

"This is just a little spot I’ve set up," Anastasia began, her tone dripping with mockery as she rose gracefully from the chair. She dragged it across the floor, the scraping sound echoing in the room as she strode toward him. "A place to send evil men like you back to the hell you crawled out of."

The sound of the chair screeching on the ground caused goosebumps to rise on Mr. Russell’s skin as he tried to turn deaf ears to it.

Anastasia stopped right in front of him and sat back down on the chair. Then she pulled out a gun that caused the middle-aged man to turn as pale as a white sheet of paper immediately.

He was now starting to sweat buckets, fear gripping him harder than when he’d just woken up.

"Who are you?!" He yelled, spitting saliva everywhere. "Do you know who I am? I’m a very reputable man and if something happens to me, the whole world will know about it! They won’t rest until they find me and then, I can teach you a lesson!"

"You’ve got a lot of nerve yelling at someone who holds your life in their hands," Tracie said coolly, her voice laced with menace. Mr. Russell’s head snapped to the left, his eyes landing on a woman he didn’t recognize.

She was pushing a tray, the gleam of its contents catching his eye as it drew closer. When it finally stopped near him, his stomach dropped. The tray was filled with torture tools—ones he knew all too well because he’d used them on others before.

He instantly turned as white as a ghost at that moment.

"I got all the stuff you need," said Tracie.

Anastasia looked at the torture weapons such as scalpels, wire cutters, pliers, bone saws, surgical scissors, and other stuff and a proud smile graced her lips as she caressed them with her hands.

"W-what are you going to d-do with me?" He stuttered, tears already pooling in his eyes.

"That’s a very good question, Mr. Russell," Anastasia said, her tone eerily calm as she approached him, heels clicking ominously against the floor. She leaned in slightly, her lips curling into a sinister smile. "Because, honestly, I don’t even know where to start. Should I paralyze you first? Or maybe cut off those filthy fingers of yours, one by one? Or..." Her eyes darkened, a chilling glint flashing across them. "Perhaps I’ll let you experience exactly what I went through that night—the night of the crimson hunt."

"W-what are you talking a-about? What night?" He asked, his voice trembling with fear.

He had no idea where he was. There were no windows so he had no idea if it was day or night. There were no sounds of car honks or faint sounds of people talking. Wherever he was, he was already sure he would be having a hard time escaping.

"Oh, so you still don’t remember me, Mr. Russell? Come on now, you aren’t that old, are you? You don’t remember the night of the crimson hunt where you violated that one helpless girl?" Anastasia questioned.

Mr. Russell had to think for a while before the realization hit him like a bolder as his eyes widened in shock. He couldn’t believe the person in front of him.

"You’re t-the girl? How can that be possible? Xander said you were dead," he claimed but he was still tearing up from fear.

"Surprise."

Anastasia reached for the pliers and she could hear Mr. Russell’s grip tightening on the chair.

"Don’t worry, old man, it wouldn’t hurt at all," said Tracie, bending down to his eye level. "I promise you she’ll be very gentle."

Mr Russell didn’t believe her at all.

"You’re going to regret this," he bites through gritted teeth even though no harm had been done to him yet. "I’m a respected politician in Fameville. Once the citizens find out what you’re doing, they’re going to make sure they make you pay."

Anastasia reached for his legs and picked a toe.

"And what do you think they would do once they find out how deeply involved you are in sex trafficking and money laundering?" She questioned.

Before he could muster a response, Anastasia had already grabbed his hand and ripped off his nails along with the skin beneath them in one swift, merciless motion. The pain was instant and excruciating, shooting through his body like wildfire. It felt as if his very soul was being dragged out of him. Unable to contain himself, he let out a blood-curdling scream, his voice echoing in the room as his body convulsed in agony.

"Sounds like music to my ears," Anastasia hummed.