Love Unspoken

The pair was frozen in fear, their eyes locked on the knife in Alexander's hand. They recoiled in terror, their bodies instinctively seeking distance from the threat.

"We've never met you before. Perhaps you've mistaken us for someone else?" one of them stuttered, his eyes darting around in a desperate search for an escape.

Alexander regarded them with a smirk that barely concealed his amusement. He pressed the tip of the blade to the chin of one of the thugs, his voice cool and menacing. "Think harder." The icy touch of the steel made the thug shudder. He could almost feel the lethal sharpness of the blade.

With a stiff neck, the thug replayed the recent events in his mind. Sure, they'd been involved in some shady dealings, but nothing that should have provoked the wrath of a man like this. Could it have been about the incident last night?

His eyes widened with realization. Trembling, he turned to face Alexander, "Was it... that dummy?"

"Dummy?" Alexander's smile turned cold.

"No, no, the woman from last night. We didn't do anything. I swear."

"And what exactly does 'didn't do anything' mean?"NôvelDrama.Org © content.

"We wanted to, sure, but then I touched blood and just stopped," the thug whimpered, hoping his honesty might save him.

But as soon as the word 'touched' left his lips, Alexander's smile disappeared, replaced by a chilling intent to kill.

"Which hand?"

The thug swallowed hard. How could he dare to answer?

Before he could even attempt to concoct a lie, a searing pain shot through his hand. A scream tore from his throat, a sound akin to a pig being slaughtered.

The blade had pierced his palm, blood pooling on the ground like a dark, spreading ink stain.

But it wasn't over. Alexander slowly withdrew the dagger, the exit wound causing a second wave of pain even more excruciating than the initial thrust.

Tears and snot mingled on the thug's face as his pleas for mercy echoed in the air.

"I'm sorry, sir, please. Please, I beg you, forgive me!"

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Alexander asked indifferently, "Which hand?"

"This one," the thug sobbed, his blood-soaked hand shaking. "Please, this one."

"Oh?"

Then, with calculated cruelty, Alexander plunged the dagger back into the same wound. "This one, huh?"

The thug's eyes rolled back in his head from the pain, his cries of agony gut-wrenching. He teetered on the edge of consciousness, the intense pain snapping him back to the harsh reality.

Alexander released the dagger and stood, his departure prompted by nothing more than the foul stench of fear emanating from the two men. They were shaking so violently they had soiled themselves. As he turned to leave, Alexander was quickly followed by Kyle.

"Alexander."

As he absentmindedly wiped his fingers with a handkerchief, Alexander's voice was light and breezy as he commanded, "Open the cage." "Okay."

Kyle wiped the sweat from his brow, remembering that Alexander had left a dagger inside the cage.

Offering them a glimmer of hope was far crueler than a swift death.

Quinn had spent the afternoon in the hospital, waiting in line, undergoing check-ups, and anxiously awaiting her results.

As evening approached and her results were ready, the doctor glanced at the papers before asking, "Where's your family?" Quinn typed on her phone, "They didn't come."

The doctor's brow furrowed slightly.

"You want to keep the baby, right?"

Quinn nodded.

"Can you stay in the hospital?"