CHAPTER 186: FURY AND FREEDOM

I blinked.

A flicker of something unfamiliar stirred in my chest. Not fear. Not shame.

Rage.

I sat up a little straighter, my body still sore, still aching, but suddenly very, very awake.

"Oh, that’s a good question," I murmured, my voice lighter than it should’ve been.

A small, sharp smile touched my lips, feeling alien and yet perfectly natural on my face. The rage wasn’t hot and chaotic anymore. It was crystallizing inside me, becoming a cold, clear diamond of fury.

"I wouldn’t just kill them," I said, my voice steady, the whisper gone. I looked away from the duvet and met Adrien’s intense gaze. I didn’t flinch. "That’s too fast. Too easy. They wanted to take their time with me, so I’d want to take my time with them."

I tilted my head, as if picturing it. "First... I’d start with their hands."

Adrien didn’t flinch. He just watched me, unwavering.

"I’d cut off their fingers. One at a time. Slowly. Let them feel each nerve snap." I looked down at my own hand. "Then the wrists. Then the arms. All the way to the shoulders."

Adrien’s expression didn’t change, but I could feel his muscles tense, his body going still as he listened.

"I’d make them feel every cut," I continued, my voice growing darker. "Then, I’d heat an iron in a fire, make it red-hot, until it glowed. Then I’d drive it into their eyes—for daring

to look at me like that. For even thinking they had the right."

I took a slow, deliberate breath, the image vivid in my mind. "And then, I’d take some ropes and tie one end to their—" I paused, a twisted thrill lighting my gaze. "Tie one end to their, and the other to the back of a truck. Actually... make it two trucks. Going in opposite directions."

Adrien’s mouth parted slightly, but he still didn’t speak.

"I’d give the signal," I finished. "And let the sound of those ropes snapping be the last thing they ever hear."

Adrien’s jaw clenched at the imagery, but he didn’t say a word. He just let me speak, letting my twisted fantasy spill out.

"I’d want to crush them, break them, until they begged for mercy," I said, my smile still cold. "I would make them feel every ounce of the helplessness I felt. I’d make them feel every ounce of the helplessness I did—then leave what’s left of them where no one would find them. A warning for anyone else who thinks they can be silly like them."

My breath hitched as I finished, the rush of anger and power fading, leaving me with a strange emptiness. I looked up at Adrien, a smile tugging at my lips, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in my eyes.

"But I wouldn’t do that, though," I added with a light laugh, brushing it off. "That’s not possible. Only a crazy person would think that way, right?"

The silence that followed my nervous laugh was heavier than any words we had spoken. It stretched, thick and suffocating, filling the space between us. I watched Adrien, waiting for the recoil, the judgment, the gentle reassurance that I was just upset and not thinking clearly.

He didn’t give me any of them.

Instead, a slow, dark smile spread across his lips. It wasn’t a kind smile. It was a smile of recognition, of discovery. It was terrifying. And in a strange, twisted corner of my soul, it was the most validating thing I had ever seen.

He reached out, his movements deliberate, and his thumb traced the line of my jaw, coming to rest just below my lips where my own strained smile had been. His touch was electric, a current of understanding passing between us.

"Crazy?" he repeated my word, his voice a low, dangerous purr that vibrated through my bones. "No, Isabella." He leaned closer, his intense gaze locking onto mine, and I felt pinned, not by force, but by the sheer weight of his attention. "A crazy person is chaotic. Unpredictable. What you described..." He shook his head slightly, that dark smile deepening. "That was methodical. It was creative. It was good."

My breath caught. The shame I’d expected to feel was being systematically dismantled by his words, replaced by something hot and powerful.

"In my world," he continued, his thumb stroking my skin, "that kind of thinking isn’t a sign of madness. It’s a sign of clarity. It’s what happens when you see the world for what it really is and understand that some people don’t deserve to be in it. They aren’t people. They’re problems. And problems," he paused, letting the word hang in the air, "have solutions."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. The room felt smaller, the air charged with a new kind of intimacy, one forged in the crucible of my darkest thoughts.

"You’re not crazy for thinking it," he murmured, his eyes searching mine. "You’re honest. More honest than anyone I’ve met."

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his expression shifting from dark admiration to something colder, more focused. More business-like.

"So, no," he said, the smile finally fading into a look of grim purpose. "I don’t think you’re crazy."

He squeezed my fingers gently. "You can feel however you want about this, and I’ll support you, no matter what. You don’t have to lock away the rage or the fantasies of vengeance, not with me."

I remembered something then, a loose thread. "Adrien," I said, my voice softer now. "Clara... she didn’t come back to check up on me all through. You also said not to worry about her. Why? She set me up, didn’t she?"

His smile faded, replaced by that cold, hard resolve. "Yes," he said simply, without preamble.

I swallowed. "I kept waiting for her. I thought... maybe something happened to her, too."

"It did," he said coldly. "Just not what you think."

A knock interrupted the storm building in the air.

"Come in," Adrien called, already knowing.

Thomas appeared in the doorway, bowing slightly. "Miss Smith is here, sir."

Miss Smith? My brows knitted. The name sounded oddly familiar, like a half-remembered song. Why does that sound like... Aria’s last name?

Before I could ask, Adrien turned to me, his expression softening. "Let’s go downstairs. Aria’s waiting for you."

I blinked. "Okay..." I said automatically, swinging my legs off the bed... then froze.My eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. What do you mean Aria?"

Adrien’s brows drew together, confusion flickering in his usually composed face. "Do you... know another Aria?"

"What—Adrien!" I practically screamed.

It wasn’t a scared scream—it was the oh-my-God- kind of scream. The best-friend-is-here kind of scream.

I launched off the bed with a burst of energy my body should not have had in its current state and bolted down the stairs barefoot and grinning like a lunatic. My legs were still sore, my muscles aching from everything—but nothing could’ve stopped me.

Aria stood in the foyer, sunglasses perched high on her head, arms folded, lips pursed in judgment, looking around the massive interior like she was about to renovate it.

The moment our eyes met—

"ISA!"

"ARIA!"

We collided in a mess of limbs, squeals, and ridiculous laughter that bounced off the vaulted ceilings. I clung to her like I hadn’t seen her in years, tears pricking my eyes as we jumped in place like lunatics.

When Adrien finally descended the stairs, unhurried as ever, we were still wrapped around each other, talking over ourselves in excited chaos.

Adrien’s lips quirked faintly as he stopped at the edge of the sitting area. "I’ll be gone until dinner," he said smoothly, addressing us both but his eyes resting briefly on me. "I invited Aria to spend the day with you. If you need anything, Thomas is available."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek black card, and set it on the coffee table like it was nothing more than a house key. "Don’t hold back," he added, voice laced with quiet indulgence.

Aria’s jaw dropped. I just stared at it, knowing exactly how dangerous that card was in Aria’s hands.

Adrien leaned down, pressed a kiss to my temple—soft, private—and murmured for only me, "Behave."

Then he straightened, gave one last, unreadable glance, and turned to leave. Thomas appeared to lead him out, and the heavy front door clicked shut, leaving us in the sudden, vast silence of the mansion.

Aria and I locked eyes.

"Oh, we are so not behaving," she whispered, grinning wickedly.