Madly Yours (Nora Reed) novel Chapter 296

The girl's body arched violently again. This time, she couldn't even muster a scream—only a ragged, breathless wheeze escaped her throat.

She had completely run out of tears. Her pupils dilated in sheer shock, looking as if her very soul had been hollowed out.

Silas stared down at her, drinking in the absolute, unadulterated terror twisting her features. This was always his favorite part.

But now...

He looked down at his own trousers, completely unresponsive, and his expression darkened ominously.

His breathing grew ragged. Veins bulged against his temples, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the bedpost.

He violently shoved himself away, pacing frantically across the room like a caged beast. In a sudden fit of explosive rage, he snatched the heavy crystal ashtray from the nightstand and hurled it directly at the wall.

Crash!

The ashtray shattered upon impact, sending razor-sharp shards of glass raining across the floor and leaving a deep, jagged dent in the plaster.

Just then, the heavy oak door swung open.

A calm, authoritative voice cut through the tension. "You pathetic waste of space. Doing this depraved trash in a basement is all you'll ever be good for."

"Uncle... Uncle Lawrence?"

Silas froze, caught somewhere between shock and sheer terror.

His fear of Lawrence Lancaster was carved into his very marrow. Even though the older man was currently smiling like a genial grandfather, Silas felt an icy chill seep deep into his bones.

"Uncle Lawrence, what... what are you doing here?"

Silas's voice trembled uncontrollably. He instinctively took a half-step backward, his calf violently colliding with the edge of the bed frame. He stumbled, blindly grabbing the bedpost to keep from collapsing.

His sadistic, bloodthirsty aura vanished entirely. Stripped of his power, he looked exactly like a guilty child caught red-handed. His face drained of all color, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

"Do you hate Hudson?"

Silas's head snapped up, his eyes practically vibrating with an all-consuming, unhinged loathing. "Hate him? How could I not? He ruined my life! I want to skin him alive, rip out his tendons, and drink his damn blood!"

Lawrence nodded in approval, neatly folding the handkerchief and slipping it away. "It's good to have that kind of fire. I was worried you had lost your nerve."

He walked over to a leather armchair and sat down, casually crossing his legs. He retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and rested it between his lips.

Silas immediately scrambled forward, producing a lighter. His hands shook so violently that the flame flickered several times before he finally managed to light the tip.

Lawrence took a long drag, exhaling the smoke in a slow, deliberate stream through his nose.

He watched Silas through half-lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth curling upward.

"Do you know what your dear brother cares about the most right now?"