HATE ME HARDER ( a dark revenge romance)

Raven Noir, stolen and sold at birth, a lethal assassin scarred by a decade-old rape, infiltrates billionaire Damien Blackwood's elite nightclub empire as stripper, her cover to get close enough to torture and kill the man who unknowingly fathered her daughter. Damien, captivated by her icy control and commanding presence, pulls her deeper with lucrative nights and charged intimacy. But when he encounters her identical twin, the buried memories flood back. Mistaking the twin for his victim, guilt drives him to propose marriage. Devastated, Raven faces an impossible choice: expose the truth, seize her revenge, or let obsession destroy them all in a dark, slow-burn thriller of betrayal and forbidden desire.

Chapters

Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

OSCAR'S POV

The red lighting in Darkar pulsed like a heartbeat, casting long shadows across the velvet walls of my private suite.

The air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke, and the faint musk of sex from the girls in the clubhouse below.

I leaned back on the leather couch, legs spread, one arm draped over the shoulder of ruby, one of the girls that worked at the club house

She sat beside me fumbling with my buttons as I maintained an eye level with the much older woman sitting opposite me.

The woman had a long dark wavey hair, and deep green eyes just like the ocean.

Ruby's body pressed against mine in a way that was all performance. Asides Raven, Ruby was my best girl.

She was a perfect distraction, a warm body to celebrate with.

My thoughts ran back to Damien Blackwood. The untouchable CEO, the man who thought he owned Manhattan. Captured like a rat in a trap by me.

The ambush had been perfect, and my men had hauled him out of the wreckage, unconscious, and now he was mine.

Locked in iron, I can't wait for the fun to begin.

Ruby straddled my lap, grinding slow to the muffled bass from downstairs. Her lips brushed my ear, in careful kisses.

"So what now?" The older woman opposite me asked.

I chuckled, low and dark, hand sliding up Ruby's thigh.

" By morning, he'll sign everything over." i said to her.

She tilted her head, fingers tracing her wine glass.

"Everything?" She asked.

"Everything." I replied, giving her a throaty smile. "The documents are ready. Political gold. Blackwood Enterprises has ties to half the city council. Contracts for development projects, backroom deals with senators, offshore accounts tied to election funds.

He signs them over to me, and we own the city.

The mayor, the police commissioner, all of it.

Just one fucking signature, and Damien Blackwood hands me the keys to the city."

She laughed, a throaty sound. "And after that, what next?"

"Then I kill him.

Slowly, I'll Make him beg for his life."

The TV in the corner was on mute, but the news ticker caught my eye. "BREAKING NEWS: DAMIEN BLACKWOOD KIDNAPPED IN AMBUSH. POLICE TAPE CRIME SCENE. REPORTERS SWARM MANHATTAN STREETS."

I unmuted it, channels flipped, CCN, FOZ, MCNBS, all the same. Reporters crowded the taped-off street, lights flashing, police tape fluttering in the wind.

"The billionaire CEO of Blackwood Enterprises was abducted in a violent shootout. Witnesses report multiple vehicles involved. Police are investigating, but no leads yet."

I fumed. "What's so fucking important about him? What's so fucking special?"

My phone rang, i looked at the caller ID and answered immediately.

The voice on the other end hesitated. "Boss... Mr Damien escaped."

"What the fuck do you mean Damien escaped?" I asked anger vibrating through me, hot and electric. My fist clenched, knuckles turning white.

"We were attacked, and our men were taken down."

My body tried absorbing the shocking news which i found absolutely absurd.

"Whatever you do, find him. Capture him back or you are all dead." I yelled into the phone.

I hung up, and smashed the phone against the wall.

Damien Blackwood. Slippery bastard. But I'd find him. And when I did, the torture would be legendary.

*********************************************

RAVEN'S POV:

I sat on the armchair in the dusty corner of my secret hideout, an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city,

The old bed creaked under Damien's weight, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Shirtless, skin pale under the single bare bulb, wounds stark in the light.

The bullet hole in his shoulder oozed fresh blood, the flesh around it swollen and red.

Bruises bloomed across his ribs, cuts from knives crisscrossing his chest, face swollen from fists, lips split, cheekbone bruised purple.

He looked broken, vulnerable, human, and not the monster image of him plastered in my mind

I'd called Maya hours ago. "Take care of Lila. Take her to your apartment. I won't be back for a few days." i had said to her.

Maya's voice had been sharp, worried. "What's going on?" she has asked.

"Don't ask much questions, it's better you don't know anything, Just do as i said." i had replied her to ease her worries.

She paused. "You in trouble?" she asked.

"Not yet. I replied.

"Be safe. I'll keep her safe." she said at last, knowing that pressing any further won't yield any positive result.

I hung up, speeding up my car, one direction in mind.

**********************

After my mission earlier, i craved home, craved the warmth of my daughter's hug.

I had turned on the radio in the old truck I'd stolen to get here.

And the news was everywhere: "Billionaire Damien Blackwood kidnapped in a violent ambush.

Reporters swarm the streets. Police investigating, but no leads.

My mind flashed back to Oscar in Darkar. The "little surprise" he mentioned, grinning like a wolf. "That son of a bitch," I cursed, anger seething through me.

Damien was mine.

Mine to torment.

Mine to kill.

No one else was permitted to hurt even a hair on his body.

Having worked for Oscar so long, I knew all his hideouts. The perfect one to hide a whole Damien Blackwood was the warehouse in Queens, remote, guarded, but I already knew the blind spots.

I'd gone there undetected, slipped past the patrols, took out two guards with silenced shots, hauled Damien's unconscious body into the truck. Because he was mine.

Now he lay on the bed, breathing ragged. The bullet wound on his shoulder looked so bad and ugly, infection setting in. Other wounds, knife cuts, baton bruises, oozed. I cursed out loud. Inviting a doctor was way risky, i had no choice but to treat him myself.

The first aid kit was in the corner, stocked up for emergencies: gauze, antiseptics, forceps, sutures, painkillers. I washed my hands in the rusty sink, gloved up.

Damien stirred slightly, eyes fluttering but not opening. "The bastard better not die yet," I muttered. "He's only permitted to die in my hands."

I cut away the remaining shirt fabric.

The shoulder wound was ugly, entry hole ragged, exit clean, but muscle torn, blood crusted.

I poured antiseptic over it, bubbles foamed. Damien groaned, body twitching.

I ignored it, probing with forceps, metals clinking.

The bullet was lodged deeper than I thought. I spent hours digging through his shoulder, sweat beading on my forehead.

Damien's body arched, a low groan escaping. I pressed down on his chest with my forearm. "Stay still bastard."

The forceps gripped.

I pulled, slow, steady. Damien grunted, eyes still tightly shut. The bullet came free with a wet pop, and blood welled fresh.

I packed the wound with gauze, pressing hard. Fatigue washing all over me.

I sutured fast, needle piercing skin, grateful he wasn't awake.

I bandaged tight, then moved to the knife cuts on his chest, cleaned them, stitched the deep ones. Bruises I iced.

When I finished, his breathing was a getting back to normal.

Finally done, i let the fatigue get complete hold of me, i sat back and stared at him intently again.

The bastard better not die yet. He's only permitted to die in my hands.

Continue to next part

My entire family was slaughtered three years ago by Alistair Kirkland, the usurper who stole the underworld throne. I was the only survivor. Smuggled out of New York as a child, I was trained in the shadows to become a flawless weapon. Now, at sixteen, I returned to the city that was supposed to be my graveyard. But the New York I returned to was a suffocating cage. Kirkland didn't just wipe out the Valenzuela bloodline; he branded my few surviving loyalists as traitors. He paraded my men down the streets in heavy iron chains, letting the very people we once protected hurl rocks at them. He bought the doctors, ensuring my wounded soldiers would bleed out in the dark. Even worse, the mother of my only ally—Julian Morgan—secretly sold us out to a Chicago warlord just to keep her archaic grip on power. I stood in the shadows, watching an eleven-year-old boy get his head smashed with a jagged stone just for defending his father's honor. How could the city my grandfather built cheer for our extermination? Why did the old guard prefer to cower and die in the dark rather than fight the monster who stole our home? "Ghosts don't knock on my door, Athena. What do you want?" Julian asked me. I tossed a blood-stained ledger of Kirkland's deepest secrets onto his desk. "I'm here to help you take back what's yours, and burn Alistair Kirkland's empire to the ground."

Action Mafia Modern

9.0

Jilted Bride's Revenge: The Valkyrie Awakens

9.0

I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction.

Action Modern Romance

9.7

Mafia's Captive Desire

9.7

He leaned in, inhaling her sweet scent as his hands traveled from her back to her waist, and then down to her thigh. She felt her breath hitch as she let out a small gasp. "We shouldn't be doing this." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then tell me to stop." His voice was low, daring, as his fingers traced slow circles on her skin. *** Lucy had always lived life on her own terms, until the night everything changed. One moment, she was free; the next, she was bound to Barry Cooper, a cold, dangerous man who ruled the underworld with an iron fist. She never expected to be trapped in a world of power struggles, deceit, and unspoken desires. But as the lines between captor and captive blur, Lucy realizes she's caught in a deadly game, one where trust is a luxury and survival is not guaranteed. Will she escape the ruthless mobster who owns her... or will she become his greatest obsession?

Action Adventure Mafia

8.6

Marrying His Rival: The Jilted Wife's Sweet Revenge

8.6

"Her blood type is a match. It’s the only option." I froze outside the conference room door, the quarterly reports digging into my ribs. I knew that voice. It was Ben, my husband’s best friend and doctor. But the next voice, cold and devoid of warmth, shattered my world. "Then we do it," my husband Ethan said. "Chloe cannot wait any longer. If Ava is the match, then Ava is the solution." For the past month, Ethan had been obsessed with my health, insisting on daily "vitamins" and endless checkups. He called it love. Standing in that hallway, I realized he was actually shopping for spare parts. "She is your wife, Ethan," Ben argued weakly. "You can't just harvest her like a crop." "She became my wife because she was useful," Ethan replied, his indifference cutting deeper than any scalpel. "Now, she can be useful for this." The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The nausea I’d been feeling wasn't stress. I was pregnant. And those "vitamins" he fed me every morning? They weren't supplements. They were poisons designed to ensure I remained a viable donor. He was killing his own child to save his mistress. To him, I wasn't a partner. I was livestock. An asset to be liquidated for parts. I didn't burst into the room. I didn't scream. I walked away in silence, my hand hovering over my stomach. He wanted my kidney? He wanted to carve me up? I decided right then. I wouldn't just leave. I would terminate the pregnancy, fake my death, and burn his entire world to the ground.

Action Modern Romance

8.9

Pregnant With The Ruthless Billionaire's Secret

8.9

Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed. Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away. But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree. She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom. Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move. Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago. Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.

Action Billionaire Mystery

9.4

Taming The Sinner: The Doctor’s Cold Game

9.4

I stood before the double doors of the master suite, my hand hovering inches from the polished brass. As a surgeon, I was trained to steady my heart before a cut, but the silence in the Alexander estate felt like the heavy, oppressive pause that always preceded a scream. I pushed the mahogany door open to find my fiancé, Authur, tangled in Egyptian cotton sheets with a woman named Jasmine. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and a floral perfume that wasn't mine—a brutal reality check just twenty-four hours before the merger meant to save my family from total ruin. Authur didn't look guilty; he looked amused, coldly telling me to close the door because I was letting in a draft. When his parents unexpectedly arrived, I was forced to hide his mistress and pretend our "intensity" had ruined the room, donning his discarded shirt to look disheveled just to protect the Lawrence family stock price. The humiliation only deepened on our wedding morning when Authur issued a sadistic ultimatum over the phone. "Wear your scrubs to the altar—the ones covered in blood—or I'll watch your father's company go belly up by lunch." He wanted to turn our wedding at St. Patrick’s Cathedral into a public execution of my dignity. I walked down the aisle in shapeless navy cotton and crimson stains, enduring the horrified gasps of the elite who labeled me an "insane gold digger." Authur stood at the altar, reeking of whiskey and malice, certain he had finally broken me and turned my professional oath into a circus act. But as the priest began the vows, I looked at the man who thought he owned me and realized I wasn't his victim—I was his surgeon. I had the footage of his debauchery ready to play for the world, and as we shared a punishing, hateful kiss for the cameras, I knew the real war had only just begun.

Action Modern Romance

HATE ME HARDER ( a dark revenge romance)

Chapter 10

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