The Imposter Bride (Natalia and Magnus) novel Chapter 507

But Jonas wasn’t about to be thwarted. With the ease of a seasoned pro, Jonas slipped a crooked piece of wire out from his jeans pocket, and with a couple of deft twists and jiggles, he had Grant’s door swinging open.

The whole operation was quick and silent, not a soul was disturbed.

Jonas pushed the door wide, locked it behind him, and sauntered over to where Grant lay snoring heavily. Staring down at Grant, Jonas’ eyes burned with a red-hot rage. It was this sorry excuse for a man who had uttered those gut-wrenching threats, and for that, Grant was beyond forgiveness.

Fueled by anger, Jonas shoved the sleeping man hard.

Grant jerked awake, his snores cutting off abruptly as he blinked at Jonas in confusion. Before he could even yelp in alarm, Jonas’ fist connected with his face, and the lights went out for Grant.

When Grant came to, he was no longer in the comfort of his own room but instead found himself strung up like a side of beef in the ship’s cargo hold. How the kid had managed to haul him here was a mystery, but Grant’s safety was now of immediate concern.

He dangled awkwardly, feet kicking in the air.

“Help—" Grant’s cry was strangled as Jonas whipped out a switchblade and plunged it into the fresh wound on his leg.

“Ah!” Grant’s scream was muffled as Jonas, quick as a cat, stuffed a rag into his mouth.

Jonas watched Grant twist in agony, his voice as cold as a winter gale. “Where is my sister?”

Tears welled in Grant’s eyes from the pain, but he couldn’t believe that this kid, who still had the look of youth on his face, could be so brutally efficient.

Grant was made of stern stuff. Even gagged, he managed a disdainful snort through his nose.

A dark smile played on Jonas’ lips. He twisted the knife slowly. “Mercy to an enemy is cruelty to oneself. I don’t make that mistake. You best decide whether you want a quick death or a long, excruciating one.”

Jonas had become the embodiment of vengeance. His heart seethed with fury at those who had taken his sister, leaving his mother to drown in grief for years. Given the chance, he would make them feel the pain they had inflicted.

As Jonas twisted the blade, blood dripped steadily onto the floor. The agony amplified Grant’s suffering, every drop a testament to his torment. If it weren’t for the ropes and the gag, Grant would’ve been screaming his lungs out. Instead, his muffled grunts sounded like the desperate protests of a trapped beast.