Reborn to Be His Vengeance

Bianca Rodriguez hit the filthy mattress with a bone-jarring thud, the stench of mildew and sweat choking her lungs. Cold steel bit into her wrists and ankles; the chains were heavy, the cuffs unforgiving.

Her once-pristine white dress hung from her body in ragged strips, the fabric torn and stained. Pale skin was marred with bruises and the kind of marks that spoke of hands that had no right to touch her. Every breath felt like a violation.

Atlas and Zaid loomed over her, stripped down to nothing but underwear, their bodies thick with muscle and fat. Their eyes—murky, predatory—sparkled with the kind of hunger that made her stomach turn. In their hands, they toyed with a leather whip and other implements she refused to name, their laughter low and obscene.

"Not bad, this one," Atlas sneered, running his tongue over yellowed teeth. "Skin so soft it might bruise just from a look."

"Word is she's some kind of socialite," Zaid added, his voice dripping with mockery. "Guess today's our lucky day."

Bianca fought against the chains, the metal biting deeper into her skin. She thrashed, screamed, her voice raw and ragged. "Get away from me! Don't touch me! Samuel! Blair! You'll burn in hell for this!"

She could hardly believe it—Samuel Anderson and Blair Ember, those treacherous bastards, had chosen the lowest, most vicious way imaginable to destroy her.

At the warehouse's single entrance, Samuel stood with one arm draped possessively around Blair's waist, watching as if the scene before him were some kind of twisted entertainment.

Blair's smile curved like a blade, her eyes glinting with cruel pleasure.

"Don't rush it," she purred. "Make it last. When you're done, she's going to watch Terrence die."

Terrence. The name hit Bianca like a blow to the chest.

Terrence Anderson—the man who sat at the very top of the Anderson family, the one who held power in his hands like it was his birthright.

She didn't have time to think. Atlas's coarse hand slid up her leg, the other gripping the shredded fabric of her dress.

"No!" she screamed, curling in on herself, only for Zaid to slam her shoulders back against the mattress.

Atlas's filthy fingers were inches from her when the world erupted.

The warehouse door exploded inward, torn from its hinges by a force that rattled the walls. Shards of metal and splinters of wood flew through the air. Out of the chaos stepped a figure radiating pure, lethal intent.

Terrence. He had come.

She had hurt him so deeply before, but knowing she was in danger, he had still come for her.

Dressed in black combat gear, his face carved in stone, his eyes burned a deep crimson. In his hand was a military knife, its blade still wet with blood. He looked like death incarnate.

His gaze cut through the dim light, locking on Bianca—disheveled, pinned beneath Atlas. In that instant, the red in his eyes deepened, burning with lethal intent.

"Dead men," he said, his voice a low growl.

He moved like a phantom. The knife whistled through the air, slicing with surgical precision.

Two screams tore through the warehouse, sharp and short-lived.

Atlas and Zaid never even saw him move. One moment they were leering over her, the next their throats were open, blood spraying in violent arcs. The bodies hit the ground with a wet thud.

It was over in seconds.

Bianca stared, her breath caught in her throat, tears blurring her vision. "Mr. Anderson…"

Samuel and Blair's faces twisted in shock. They hadn't expected him to break through their defenses, let alone with such deadly efficiency.

Terrence didn't spare them a glance. He strode to Bianca, cutting through the chains with a single stroke, then stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her trembling frame.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Her tears came harder. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, that she was terrified, but before she could speak, the air shifted.

From the shadows, a figure lunged—Dax, eyes wild with hate, a knife clutched in his fist. He drove it toward Terrence's back.

"No!" Bianca's scream ripped through the air.

Terrence sensed the danger, started to move, but in that heartbeat, he saw her face—her terror—and hesitated.

The blade punched through his back, sliding clean out the front of his chest. The tip gleamed red in the dim light.

Hot blood sprayed across Bianca's face.

Terrence's body jerked violently. His eyes, usually unreadable, held no fear, no pain—only a deep, aching regret and concern. He tried to smile, tried to say "Don't be afraid," but the words drowned in a flood of blood spilling from his lips.

Dax blinked, almost surprised at his own success, then spat on the floor. "Pretty boy. Shame you're dead now. I never got to touch you while you were alive… guess I'll find out what it's like."

He began to undo his pants.

"Stop! You sick bastard!" Bianca's scream was raw, primal. She tore free from the grip of one of Samuel's men, throwing herself over Terrence's body, shielding him with her own.

Dax froze for a heartbeat, then snarled. "Bitch. You want to die too?"

His hand shot toward her hair.

Bianca's eyes caught the glint of steel—Terrence's knife, lying just beyond reach.

She didn't think. She grabbed it, and with every ounce of strength left in her, drove the blade into Dax's chest.

His scream was high and sharp. He staggered back, clutching the wound, eyes wide with disbelief before he crashed to the floor. His body twitched once, then went still.

The other men stood frozen, stunned by the sudden reversal.

Bianca knelt beside Terrence, gripping the blood-slick knife, staring at his pale, lifeless face. Pain and despair swallowed her whole.

Her lips curved into a broken smile. Before the others could react, she turned the blade toward herself and plunged it into her own chest. Warm blood poured out, soaking the mattress beneath her.

Her vision blurred. In her final moments, she reached for Terrence's cold, rigid hand.

'Terrence… I'm sorry,' she murmured.

If she had another chance, she would make every one of them pay, a hundredfold, a thousandfold. And she would love him the way he deserved.

"Bianca! What are you doing? Get in the car! We don't have time!"

The familiar voice yanked her out of the blood-soaked nightmare.

She gasped, lungs burning, heart pounding. Terrence's dying gaze still haunted her.

Blinking, she realized she was standing in the narrow alley behind the Rodriguez Mansion. Rain slicked the pavement.

A black sedan idled nearby, Samuel behind the wheel, his expression tight with urgency.

How… She had died in that warehouse. Yet here she was.

The realization hit like a thunderclap. She had been thrown back—back to the night she had run away with Samuel.

Tonight, Terrence would arrive in Emerald City to discuss her marriage with her family.

Her body trembled. This time, nothing had happened yet. Terrence was still alive. She had a chance.

"Bianca? Did you hear me? Get in the car! We have to go before my uncle gets here!"

Samuel's impatience sharpened his tone. He reached for her arm.

She slapped his hand away, hard enough to make him stumble.

"Don't touch me!" Her voice was hoarse, thick with hatred.

Samuel stared, stunned. "Bianca, you—"

Her fists clenched, nails biting into her palms. The pain grounded her.

She couldn't blow her cover. Not yet.

Drawing a steady breath, she said coldly, "Samuel Anderson."

The way she used his full name made him blink.

"Go. I'm not leaving with you."

His eyes widened. "What? Do you even know what you're saying? We—"

Her lips curled into a razor-sharp smile. "The person you made promises to… wasn't me."

She didn't wait for his reply. She turned and walked away, into the rain.

'Terrence… This time, I'm coming for you,' she thought.

At the front of the Rodriguez Mansion, a fleet of black luxury cars slid to a stop, silent as predators in the dark.

The heavy doors swung open. Blair stepped out, her white dress immaculate despite the rain. Her expression was urgent, her pace quick as she approached the lead car.

The tinted window lowered, revealing Terrence's profile—cold, chiseled, carrying a weight that seemed to press the air itself.

"Mr. Terrence Anderson!" Blair's voice cracked, trembling with feigned distress. "Thank God you're here! Bianca… she left with Mr. Samuel Anderson! We tried to stop her, but she said she'd rather die than marry you!"