My Ex-Husband Begged Me to Take Him Back - Chapter 343

Chapter 343: End of revenge Chapter 343: End of revenge Erica’s chest heaved, panic clawing at her throat.

“You should have run, Erica,” he hissed.

“But instead, you dared to come back.

And now€¦” His grip tightened further, his gaze boring into her with deadly intent.

“You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done.” Erica met his gaze defiantly, the earlier shock and fear disappearing.

What left in those eyes was a burning determination.

“I don’t care about what will happen to me,” she barked.

“My life has already been ruined, and I’ve lost my mother.

I have no one in this world, and I have nothing to lose.

But you €“ you are someone’s husband, soon to be a father.

If you die now, it will be a great loss for you and your beloved Ava.” She curled her lips into a malicious smile.

“I’ll drag you to the hell with me.” Dylan barely had a moment to react before she pulled out a knife from her back and drove it toward him.

His instincts kicked in.

He sidestepped just in time and caught the blade with his bare hand just an inch away from his chest.

Erica used all her strength to stab him, but she faced a strong resistance from him.

With his other hand he gripped her wrist, twisting it with brutal force.

Erica let out a sharp gasp, but she refused to let go of the knife.

Her fingers clung to it, knuckles turning white with the sheer strength of her madness.

“I won’t go down alone,” she spat, trying to yank herself free.

Dylan’s patience snapped.

With a swift, merciless move, he wrenched the knife from her grasp.

In the next second, he slammed her against the desk, pinning her down with one arm while his other hand gripped her throat.

“You think you can threaten me?” His blood dripped onto the desk, staining the polished wood, but his focus never wavered.

“You’re already in hell, Erica.

And this time, there is no escape.” Erica struggled beneath his hold, but he was stronger, his rage fueling his grip.

She could barely breathe.

Dylan clenched his jaw.

He had waited so long for this moment, but now that he had her at his mercy, something dark and bitter twisted inside him.

Would killing her be enough?

Would it erase the pain she had caused?

Dylan’s grip on the knife tightened.

“I won’t kill you.

Death will be easy for you.

I’ll let you live.

You will suffer every moment of your life.

With one swift motion, Dylan dragged the blade across her cheek.

A deep, merciless gash split her skin open.

“Ah,” A bloodcurdling scream tore from Erica’s lips.

Dylan pushed her down.

Erica stumbled on the floor, clutching her face.

Crimson dripped from her fingers.

“My face,” she gasped, horror-stricken.

Her breath came in frantic, uneven gulps as she looked at the blood smeared on her hands.

Dylan’s fury didn’t subside.

He slashed the other side of her cheek as well.

Erica’s cries echoed inside the house, alerting the guards.

“You don’t deserve a pretty face,” he said darkly.

“A woman filled with so much hatred should bear the marks of her own cruelty.” Erica whimpered, trying to scramble away, but he didn’t let her.

He slashed her face yet again, leaving a third deep wound.

Dylan stepped back, watching her writhe on the floor, her hands covered in her own blood.

“You will rot in jail for the rest of your life, and these wounds will remind you of who you have messed with.” Her agonized cries rang through the house, echoing off the walls.

The door burst open, guards flooding in.

Dylan didn’t spare Erica another glance as he tossed the knife aside and commanded, “Take her away.

And don’t let that girl, Lisa, escape.

Hand them both over to the cops.” The guards hauled Erica out of the house.

Erica thrashed in the guards’ grip, her bloodied hands clawing at their arms, but her fight was useless.

Hearing the commotion, Lisa tried to run away, but the guards nab her.

“No!

Let me go!” she shrieked, struggling in vain.

“I was forced!

I didn’t want to do this!” “Whatever you have to say, say it to the cops,” one of the guards snapped, dragging her out.

As their voices faded, Dylan exhaled deeply and sank into his chair.

The battle that had begun in his past life had finally come to an end.

His enemies were punished.

His revenge was complete.

A quiet moment settled over the room.

But even as relief coursed through him, a dull ache remained-a wound that would never fully heal.

His parents were gone, taken from him in the cruelest way, and no amount of justice could bring them back.

Yet, in the midst of his sorrow, there was peace.

He had rectified his mistakes.

He had earned Ava’s forgiveness, reclaimed their love, and secured their future.

A small smile broke through his exhaustion.

“I need to tell her this,” he murmured.

The thought of Ava, of her warmth and her unwavering love, filled his chest with something close to joy.

“She’ll be excited.” “Sir.” The voice pulled Dylan from his thoughts.

He lifted his head to see the chief security officer stepping into the study, concern etched deep into his features.

“Are you okay?” The man approached, his sharp eyes scanning Dylan’s weary form.

“I’m fine,” Dylan replied, waving off the concern.

But as his hand moved, a sharp sting shot up his arm.

It was then he noticed the deep crimson dripping from his fingers, staining the floor beneath him.

His mind flashed back to the moment he had stopped the knife.

“You’re hurt,” the officer stated worriedly, reaching for Dylan’s hand and inspecting the wound.

His expression darkened.

“This is deep.

You’re bleeding too much.

You need stitches.” Only now did Dylan realize how much blood he had lost.

His adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a dull, throbbing pain.

“Let me take you to the hospital.” Dylan gave a slow nod.

He pushed himself up from the chair, but the moment he stood, a wave of dizziness crashed over him, his vision darkening at the edges.

His knees buckled.

“Sir!” The officer caught him just in time, gripping his arms and steadying him.

“You’ve lost too much blood.

I’ll take you to the hospital right away.

Just stay awake.” Dylan gave a weak nod.

The officer didn’t waste a second.

He half-carried, half-supported Dylan out of the house, guiding him carefully down the steps.

The car door was yanked open, and the officer eased him into the backseat before rushing to the driver’s side.

The engine roared to life.

Tires screeched against the pavement as the car sped down the road, racing toward the hospital.