The Cruel CEO's Mistress
Nadine clamped her hands over her ears, but the noises still tore through her—the pleading voice, the crack of bone, the dull thud of a boot striking flesh.
“Please, sir… have mercy…” the voice grew weaker with every word.
“Stop pretending. You know the price of betrayal,” Justine’s voice was calm and merciless. He kicked the man’s face again, splitting the skin near his temple. Blood splattered across the floor.
But Justine didn’t stop. He relished every strike, every groan. He could have ended it with a single bullet, yet torment seemed far more satisfying.