My Harem Will Help Me Get My Revenge-Chapter 21: Problem Solved

Chapter - 21

CRACK!

Ibrahim grabbed the investigator's broken finger and pulled it hard.

"AAAAAAGGHHHHH!!" A bloodcurdling scream tore from the investigator's throat as Ibrahim ripped out his fingernail. Blood started oozing from the raw, exposed flesh and dripped on the floor.

The Cockroach chuckled, his voice sounded so satisfied, "There it is. That's the sound I had been dying to hear."

The investigator sagged back into the chair, his body was trembling now. His entire hand throbbed and a searing pain shot through his arm.

But his torment wasn't yet over.

"What happened dear? Tired already?" The Cockroach looked so sad, shaking his head, "Come on. We are just getting started. Don't give up just yet."

Putting away the pliers, Ibrahim reached for the blowtorch. Soon a blue-orange flame came to life, hissing in the air.

Whooshhh!!!

"Ever smelled burning flesh?" he grinned, "It's intoxicating."

And then without giving the man to brave it out, he pressed the flame against the investigator's arm.

Sizzle!!!

"AAGGHHH!! STOP!! FUCK!!" His voice cracked, raw from the pain.

The skin on the investigator's arm sizzled and cracked. A sharp hiss filled the room as the fire ate into the flesh, turning it charred black. The investigator's body jerked violently, his back arching as he let out a gut-wrenching, agonized scream.

The horrid burnt stench of burning meat soon smoked in the air.

The Cockroach wrinkled his nose and let out a breathy laugh, "Oh man! Do you have a bad stomach or what? You stink." 

"Why don't we fix that?"

He grabbed a cloth bag from the tray and tilted it over the fresh burn. And from it white grains spilled onto the scorched skin.

The investigator shuddered as the salt rubbed into the open wound, and his body trembled with pain. His scream turned hoarse.

The investigator soon broke into sobs. His fingers clawed at the armrests as his nails scraped against the wood.

"Stop it you sick fuck," he choked out, his scream echoing in the room.

Ibrahim smirked, "I am sick and you are a dead man breathing."

"But I am compassionately sick," Ibrahim grinned, "I am not that cruel to keep rubbing salt on someone's wounds. These are not my upbringings."

"Let me pluck out the salt for you," And with that, he reached for a scalpel, its steel edge gleaming under the dim light.

The investigator barely had time to breathe before the cold blade pressed against his forearm.

"See, this is what happens when you mess with the person who owns the fucking world."

With a swift, deliberate motion, he carved a shallow line into the flesh, just deep enough for blood to seep out.

He watched, fascinated, as it dripped slowly, mixing with the pool of blood under him. It was a sight to behold. He cut him all over the body one after the other with each cut deeper than the last one.

"You should have listened," he mused. Admiring his work, he stepped back, "But now, it's too fucking late."

The investigator gritted his teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another scream.

He stepped back, admiring his work, "Damn. This is actually a work of art."

The investigator met his gaze, teeth clenched against the agony. His voice, when it came, was hoarse but steady, "Fuck you. Go to hell. Pervert."

He chuckled darkly. "You have got balls, I will give you that."

"This is actually the last time we will see each other. Not like there is transportation service between Hell and Heaven."

He picked up the hammer and raised it high, saying, "Let's see how much more you can take. "

He was ready to crush his skull.

He swung it down, ready to break his skull. But right before he was about to smash his head, Ibrahim stopped.

A cruel smirk stretched across his lips. He took a closer step towards the investigator, "But before I fucking kill you. I need to tell you something," Ibrahim said, grabbing the investigator by his hair.

Ibrahim sneered, tilting his head slightly, "Just remember one thing Mr I don't know your name shithead. There isn't a single motherfucker in this world who is smarter than me."

"No one. And I don't need to prove anything to fucking anyone."

The investigator's bloodied face twisted in rage. He coughed, spitting blood on the floor as he glared at him.

"You coward! Hiding behind your fucking goons. Does that make you feel powerful, huh? A fucking scum who can't fight his own battle?"

But hearing him, Ibrahim looked bored. Rolling his eyes in irritation, his fingers tightened around the handle of the hammer.

"Oh, shut your whining you corpse," he drawled, lifting the weapon lazily, "They are nothing but puppets. I am the one pulling the strings, dumbass." 

"I don't need anyone to fucking save me."

"Huh..." The investigator's chest heaved. His body trembled as he gritted his teeth, "You will die like a..."

Ibrahim didn't let him finish.

With a sadistic grin, he swung the hammer again and the metal connected with his head.

CRACK!

Sound of bone shattering echoed in the room. Blood spurted across the walls and painted them in thick, red splashes. The investigator's scream was cut off by the next blow... then another... and another.

The investigators' skull caved in. His eyes were now lifeless. A pulpy mess of brain matter and gore dripped from the ruined remains of his face.

Silence.

Only the sound of Ibrahim's heavy breathing filled the room.

He stepped back, his chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes locked onto the corpse slumped against the chair. Blood dripped from his fingers.

With a disgusted huff, he pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his hands clean, and then tossed the stained cloth onto the investigator's mangled body like trash.

"Motherfucker," he muttered, shaking his head, "You could have lived longer. But you talked too much."

He turned to his men, who stood watching, their faces blank. This wasn't the first time they had witnessed his brutality, and it wouldn't be the last.

"Dump the body somewhere in plain sight," he ordered, his voice as cold as steel, "Make an example of him. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir..." With that his men moved.

Meanwhile Ibrahim reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigar, and lit it with a flick of his lighter. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke curl around his lips before exhaling slowly.

Another problem...eliminated.

A slow, cruel smile spread across his face as he watched the lifeless body of the investigator being dragged away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soft morning light slipped through the large windows, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. Lucius's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the warmth of the early sun.

For a few moments, he lay still, staring at the ceiling, his mind hazy from sleep. The air smelled fresh and utterly peaceful.

With a deep sigh, he pushed the sheets aside and sat up, his bare feet meeting the cold floor.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

"Morning, Mister Lucius. Time to wake up, man," he muttered to himself.

He lazily dragged himself to the bathroom. He leaned against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror.

'Why would anyone want to work so early in the morning and leave the embrace of your bed?'

He looked at himself. His stubble was uneven, and his hair was a mess. With a sigh, he grabbed his toothbrush and brushed his teeth, the minty freshness barely helping him keep up.

After rinsing his mouth, he splashed cold water on his face, hoping to shake off the remaining sleep.

Soon he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower cubicle. Turning the knob, he let the hot water run for a moment. When the water was hot enough, he stepped under the stream.

When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked back into the room, his wet skin glistening in the soft morning light.

Opening the cupboard, he scanned through his clothes before picking a crisp navy blue suit and a white shirt.

Before dressing, he stood before the mirror, tilting his head slightly as he checked his look, "This will do."

He put on his pants, his muscles flexed as he ran a hand over them, smirking at his reflection.

Lucius smirked, "Enjoying the view?"

"Huh???" Iris, who stood by the doorway with arms crossed, watching him in silence was taken aback, "So, you know that I was watching you."

Lucius chuckled, "Of course,"

Iris stepped closer, "Then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because of the way you were looking at me..." Lucius turned, his bare chest now just inches from her. His voice dropped, husky and low, "It felt you were in love."

Feeling his breath against her face, Iris's lips parted slightly.

But she was quick to push Lucius away. She rolled her eyes, looking away from him, "Who said I was admiring it? And what makes you think I haven't seen better?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

Lucius leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, "If you want to see more and judge, you just have to ask."

"You are in a good mood already," Iris put his finger against his forehead and pushed him back.

Lucius stepped back and sighed, "And you are too good at spoiling the mood."

He turned back to the mirror, buttoning up his shirt.

"Stop wasting time. We have to go to work, we have a few important meetings today; let's move," Iris said, turning towards the gate, "You are the secretary and I am doing your job."

"Just shows how much you love me," Lucius grinned, "Give me a minute, I will be right behind you." 

And in no time, he was downstairs twirling the car keys, "Come one, let's go."

"Achiii" Iris suddenly sneezed.

"Sorry," She apologised right away.

"Bless you," Lucius said, "Want me to hug you? My hot body might just be the thing you need," he asked.

"Your charms can only work with those psycho nurses," Iris replied, wiping her nose, "Don't try your luck on me."

"Just you wait, I will get some dirt on you soon enough."

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