I thought I lived a romance, me and Rex, King of The Devil' s Brigade. He saved me and my best friend, Clare, from a highway ambush years ago, my knight in shining armor. We found love, safety, cherished trophies in his clubhouse. But one night, Rex' s whisper shattered everything. He confessed the "ambush" was a staged setup, a cruel trap, for a shadowy woman named Silas' s amusement. Every tender touch became a malicious lie; he even subtly poisoned me, causing our child' s loss. Clare watched Marcus, the man she loved, systematically destroy her, culminating in him handing her most cherished locket to Silas. Broken, Clare erupted, igniting the workshop in a fiery inferno, consuming Silas and herself in a defiant, deadly embrace. My world crumbled into betrayal and icy rage. How could the man I loved orchestrate such a monstrous game, feeding our pain to a woman who reveled in our torment? The injustice felt like a physical wound. The naive Amy died with Clare in that fire. Only vengeance remained, cold and precise. I meticulously planned their destruction, orchestrating a final, bloody scene, only to wake in a hospital bed, Clare alive beside me. Everything was a terrifying, comatose nightmare. But was my world of pain, betrayal, and revenge just a figment, or something insidious trailing into my reality?
I thought I lived a romance, me and Rex, King of The Devil' s Brigade.
He saved me and my best friend, Clare, from a highway ambush years ago, my knight in shining armor.
We found love, safety, cherished trophies in his clubhouse.
But one night, Rex' s whisper shattered everything.
He confessed the "ambush" was a staged setup, a cruel trap, for a shadowy woman named Silas' s amusement.
Every tender touch became a malicious lie; he even subtly poisoned me, causing our child' s loss.
Clare watched Marcus, the man she loved, systematically destroy her, culminating in him handing her most cherished locket to Silas.
Broken, Clare erupted, igniting the workshop in a fiery inferno, consuming Silas and herself in a defiant, deadly embrace.
My world crumbled into betrayal and icy rage.
How could the man I loved orchestrate such a monstrous game, feeding our pain to a woman who reveled in our torment?
The injustice felt like a physical wound.
The naive Amy died with Clare in that fire.
Only vengeance remained, cold and precise.
I meticulously planned their destruction, orchestrating a final, bloody scene, only to wake in a hospital bed, Clare alive beside me.
Everything was a terrifying, comatose nightmare.
But was my world of pain, betrayal, and revenge just a figment, or something insidious trailing into my reality?
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