Playing his own game
Stella has kept her part of the promise as she told Darcy about why she was threatening the orphanage.
The valley where the orphanage was located had a prediction of having crude oil under the ground, and since Stella was one of the few to get the information firsthand by pure coincidence, she wanted the area for herself.
She just wanted to elevate herself to the heights where it would be sufficient to beat that bastard who ruined her sister and take the well-deserved revenge.
However, since the residents of the valley were so united and had no intention of leaving their place, even at double the price offered, she had to resort to making the orphanage, the weakness of the residents, her target.
She forced them to give her money first, but when that too did not work, she resorted to threatening them to evacuate the place, or she would hurt the children.
Now, as Darcy promised, she was standing inside the Bull's Eye gang base, handing some photos to Stella. "It was not easy to get these; that motherfucker is undoubtedly a powerful figure," Darcy said, sighing with disdain from inside.
Stella swallowed in fear as she understood the notion of Darcy's words and opened the envelope, going through the pictures.
First, there was a picture of that corporate heir giving money to a guy. Then, in the subsequent picture, the same guy was doing something to a car, and Stella recognized the car; it was the car in which her parents had their accident.
So, the culprit of her sister and her parents was the same all along. Her doubt was indeed on point.
"The guy who took these pictures is no more because he was trying to blackmail that bastard to get money; he did not even get to live, let alone get the money," Darcy scoffed, and Stella took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
"What should I do now?" Stella asked with painful, teary red eyes.
"It's up to you. Do you want me to finish off that bastard or finish him with your own hands?" Darcy gave her the choice.
Stella, looking at those pictures, contemplated. She had yet to remove the video that Darcy gave her in that chip that day at the shooting range. It was the video made by the bastard who exploited her sister. He did not even deserve to be a human.
Rage was the only emotion she felt, blazing eyes as she looked at Darcy with determination. "I want to finish him off with my own two hands," Stella said.
Darcy smiled at that determination, and she nodded her head. "I have a brilliant idea for that," Darcy smirked, with a sinister smile on her lips that even Stella got shivers down her spine. "We should play his own game with him."
...
A man in his early thirties hummed and whistled in merry, his hips swaying while he danced in a gray robe, red hair being tousled by the hairdryer.
His carefree and cheerful moment abruptly halted with a faint thud that echoed through the expansive bathroom.
Sensitive to sounds, he paused, stepping outside the bathroom, a space vast enough to consume a small house. Scanning his lavish bedroom, he cast a suspicious gaze around.
His momentary relief shattered when a voice spoke out, sending shivers down his spine. "You seem quite scared, as if you've committed a grave sin."
In a blink, Darcy and Stella, wrapped in black leather pants and tops, appeared in his room. Before he could react and call his gaurds, Darcy swiftly silenced him with a knock from her heel, rendering him unconscious.
Stella, wide-eyed, gaped at the scene before her. "You're brutal," she remarked, her eyes still wide with shock.
Darcy chuckled in response. "No room for sympathy when dealing with scum like him," Darcy reminded her, her tone unapologetic.
Stella nodded, silently reaffirming her commitment to her mission.
...
The redhead groaned, pain shooting through his body as he finally regained consciousness.
Surrounded by darkness, he attempted to stand up, only to realize he was securely bound to a chair. Panic set in as he struggled against the restraints, realizing he couldn't move his hands or legs.
"What the fuck is this?" he exclaimed, his voice echoing into the void. "Who are you? What do you want? If it's money, I'll give you whatever you want!" He shouted desperately, hoping his words would reach his captors who must be after the money.
In response, the only sound that filled the air was the faint laughter of two girls, gradually growing louder with each passing second. The noise messed with his head, intensifying the throbbing in his temples.
"Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!" he repeated, his screams an attempt to drown out the disorienting laughter, as if the repetition could calm the pounding headache.
Unexpectedly, a blinding light flooded the room. He squinted his eyes shut, gradually reopening them to adjust to the sudden brightness.
As his vision cleared, he found himself face to face with the two girls he had seen before losing consciousness.
"Darcy," he muttered, finally recognizing one of them, though his eyes squinted with lingering doubt.
"Oh, you remember me," Darcy smirked, a touch of amusement in her eyes. The man glared at her with fury.
"Who wouldn't? Your company is thriving, everyone in the business circle wants a piece of you," he spat, a mix of jealousy and confusion evident in his tone.
He couldn't fathom why Darcy, known for her swift rise to success, was now playing the part of a thug in this dimly lit warehouse. She had more to offer than him so why would he even go after him?
"Do you recognize ME?" Stella demanded, a sharpness in her eyes.
The redhead furrowed his eyebrows, completely clueless about her who she was.
Stella's anger amplified at the realization that he had ruined her entire family, yet he had no memory of who she was.
Without a word, Stella grabbed a baseball bat from the ground and lunged toward him. The redhead's eyes widened as he desperately shouted "No, no, no," but Stella showed no mercy.
She brutally struck the bat at his temple, sending him and the chair he was tied to, crashing to the ground.
Groaning and moaning in pain, blood trickling down his temple, the man fought against the tight restraints. His head was throbbing, and drowsiness crept in.
"Now, now, don't rush it," Darcy's voice cut through the air. "You can take all your time. If you kill him like this, where's the fun? Make him suffer, let him beg for mercy before you end it." Darcy's words hung in the air, sinister and menacing.
The redhead, now more alert, started to wiggle in an attempt to escape the chair. "Are you people sick?" he shouted through trembling lips. "What have I ever done to you?" Playing the victim in his head, his words further fueled Stella's rage.
"You bastard," Stella seethed, kicking him in the gut. He groaned in pain, coughing out dust. "You ruined my sister, killed my parents, destroyed a whole family, and you have the audacity to ask what you've done?" Stella's fury echoed through the warehouse.
The bastard, though guilty of these atrocities countless times, couldn't recall which family or girl Stella was referring to.
"Does the name Marvin ring a bell?" Darcy asked casually, taking a leisurely seat.
The redhead's eyes widened in recognition; there was only one Marvin he knew.
"Stacy Marvin, the girl you ruined and killed with your own hands," Stella ground out through gritted teeth. A shiver ran down the man's spine as memories of his brutal actions towards Stacy resurfaced, realizing how bad the situation at hand was for him.
"Look, we can talk it out. Maybe there's a misunderstanding," the man stammered in a faint voice. Stella silenced him with another forceful kick to his gut.
"Hey! Are you insane? Just you wait. The Vipers will be here any minute to save me. You'll regret doing this to me," the redhead shouted, mustering the remaining shreds of his courage.
Darcy signaled to one of her underlings, who promptly adjusted the redhead's chair to an upright position. "Just so you know, Jordan, we're not your typical business people. Don't underestimate what we're capable of. The Vipers are nothing compared to us," Darcy declared with unwavering confidence.
With a creepy smile, she handed Stella a small knife.
Stella accepted it with a disgusted yet determined expression, locking eyes with Jordan in a mix of disgust and rage.
"No! Please, no, don't. I'll do anything you want. Please don't hurt me," Jordan pleaded desperately. His cries echoed through the dimly lit warehouse, and he let out a tortured shout as Stella made the first cut on his thigh. The knife sank deep into the muscle, no mercy shown, as a chilling atmosphere enveloped the room.