Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 135: Torture [4] TW

The pain Violet felt was the most excruciating she had ever known. As the blade plunged into her eye, a scream ripped from her throat, primal and raw, though it did nothing to alleviate the agony. It was as if fire coursed through her veins, consuming her from within, and yet the torment only worsened with every passing second. The blade moved deliberately, carving a path of torment as Howie worked slowly, methodically, digging out Violet’s eye like he was mining for some precious gem.

Her screams filled the room, piercing and desperate, a chilling echo of suffering. Violet struggled to move, to fight back, to break free, but Reddrick’s iron grip made it impossible. He held her down as though she were no more than a sack of grain, unyielding and unbothered by her frantic resistance. A few agonizing seconds later, Violet’s body surrendered. Her strength failed her, and she fainted, the unbearable pain dragging her into the darkness.

The reprieve was short-lived. When she woke again, she was greeted by an even greater surge of pain, sharp and consuming, as if she were being dragged back into hell. Her disoriented mind couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but the anguish in her left eye mirrored the torment she had just endured in her right.

Violet screamed again, her voice reaching a pitch that seemed impossible, as if she were trying to expel her very soul in a futile attempt to escape the suffering. Her body convulsed, each spasm a reaction to the unrelenting agony, until her voice failed her completely. Her throat burned from the effort, her cries now reduced to strained gasps. Her body no longer felt like her own. It was as though she had been hollowed out, reduced to nothing but a vessel for pain.

The searing torment in her head was relentless, an endless pounding that felt as though someone were driving a sledgehammer into her skull while a saw slowly and torturously tore her apart from the chest upward. Violet’s body gave out again, and she slipped back into unconsciousness, her mind retreating to escape the torment.

When she woke for the third time, darkness was all she knew. The pounding in her head made it impossible to grasp her surroundings. Her senses were dulled, but she eventually became aware that the pressure around her mouth—Reddrick’s hands—was gone. Not that it mattered. Every muscle in her body refused to obey her commands. She couldn’t lift herself off the ground; she could barely even breathe.

A band had been tied tightly around her eyes, the rough cloth soaked with blood that continued to trickle down her face. The metallic scent was overwhelming, mingling with the faint, acrid stench of sweat and fear. Violet lay on the ground, barely conscious, her mind too battered by pain to process the murmurs of the men standing over her. Their voices reached her ears, muffled and indistinct, like a distant conversation heard through a thick wall.

Yet, despite her hazy state, Violet was acutely aware of what had been done to her. She had experienced every moment, every agonizing second, and as much as she wanted to scream, her body refused to cooperate. As much as she wanted to weep, to wail, to release the storm of despair building inside her, she couldn’t even open her mouth. And as much as she wanted to curse her tormentors, to pour her hatred and fury into words, she could do nothing but lie there, broken and bleeding.

Her lips moved weakly, and faint whispers escaped, words so fragile they barely reached the air:

"Just kill me...

Kill me already..."

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"They look quite pretty," Reddrick said, his voice disturbingly nonchalant as he watched Howie carefully place Violet’s eyes into a glass jar. The faint smirk on his face didn’t reach his eyes, which glimmered with calculation. Just because he was working with Howie didn’t mean he trusted him. Far from it. If anything, the man’s meticulousness made Reddrick even warier.

"We’ll show this to Eldric," Howie declared, his tone devoid of emotion. "It’s proof she’s a witch." He twisted the jar’s lid shut with a satisfied snap.

Reddrick nodded but kept his thoughts to himself. His gaze drifted to Violet, lying motionless on the floor. Her lips moved faintly, mumbling incoherent words under her breath. Her voice was so soft it was almost drowned out by the crackling of the fire in the corner.

There was no pity in Reddrick’s expression as his eyes swept over her body. To him, she was nothing more than a commodity. Despite the blood and the brutal injuries, her form was still appealing, her figure still intact. His lips curved into a sly smile as he voiced his thoughts.

"Can’t I have her first, before you decide to cut out her tongue?" he asked, his tone laced with irritation. Her fragile state concerned him, not because he cared for her well-being, but because he worried she was already too far gone, teetering on the brink of madness.

"We don’t have time!" Howie snapped, his irritation flaring. He shot Reddrick a sharp look, his patience wearing thin. "You think with your dick too much, and it’s going to get us caught. We need to finish this and get rid of any evidence—blood, smell, all of it. Now hold her down!"

Reddrick grumbled but didn’t argue further. He bent down and lifted Violet’s limp body, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly. Her torn shirt had shifted, revealing pale skin beneath the fabric. Reddrick’s grip tightened slightly as his gaze lingered on her exposed flesh, a twisted smirk forming on his lips.

Howie ignored him. Picking up a sharper blade, he stepped closer, his movements precise and deliberate. He grabbed Violet’s head to steady it and forced her mouth open, holding her tongue in place with practiced ease.

"This part will be tricky," Howie warned, his tone low and focused. "Any mistake, and she’ll bleed out before they find her."

Reddrick, distracted by the glimpse of skin beneath her torn shirt, barely heard him. His attention was still fixed on Violet when Howie began to press the blade into her mouth, preparing to make a clean cut.

But Violet, driven by a sudden surge of fear and the onslaught of new pain, sprang to life. Unlike before, when she had been motionless, her body jerked violently, thrashing with all the strength she could muster. The pain triggered something primal, an overwhelming need to escape.

Reddrick, caught off guard by her sudden burst of energy, lost his grip.

"SHIT!" Howie roared as the blade slipped. The next moment, he was holding a large piece of Violet’s severed tongue in his hand. Blood pooled in her mouth, pouring out in thick streams and staining the ground beneath her.

"I asked you to do one fucking thing!" Howie snarled, his face a mask of fury as he glared at Reddrick.

"Don’t put this on me!" Reddrick shot back, his voice rising with anger. "You’re the one who made the mistake!"

They both turned their attention to Violet. Her body convulsed on the floor, blood streaming from her mouth in alarming amounts.

"She’s going to die," Reddrick stated flatly, his frustration evident. Despite his anger, he wasn’t ready to give up on her just yet.

"Is there no way to stop the bleeding?" he demanded.

Howie hesitated, then frowned. "We could cauterize it," he said, his tone grim. "But it’s going to hurt a hell of a lot more than when we took her eyes. And this time... we can’t block her mouth."

Reddrick shrugged dismissively. "If it’s as painful as you say, she’ll pass out again. Or I’ll just knock her out myself."