Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 811: The Floor Ran Red

The fourth tried to run. I let him. For three steps.

Then I appeared in front of him, my sword swinging in a horizontal arc. His head left his body before he could scream, bouncing across the blood-slick floor like a grisly ball.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The fifth dropped to his knees, begging, "P-PLEASE, SEÑOR, I HAVE A FAMILY—!"

I didn’t slow down.

My blade took his head mid-sentence, his last word choked in a gurgle of blood. His head rolled, stopping at Sarah’s feet. She flinched, her face pale, but she didn’t look away.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The sixth pulled a knife. I laughed.

Then I moved—faster than his eye could track—my sword shearing through his wrist, then his neck. His head hit the ground before his body realized it was dead.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The seventh fired—point-blank.

I didn’t flinch.

The bullet froze mid-air, hovering like a fly in amber, before I flicked it back with my mind. It punctured his forehead, and he dropped, his head cracking against the concrete—still attached, but useless.

A quick stomp on his skull, and it popped like a rotten melon.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The eighth screamed, turning to flee—

I grabbed his hair, yanking his head back before slashing his throat. His blood sprayed the wall in a crimson fan, his body twitching as I kicked him forward, his head rolling free as he fell.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The ninth pulled a grenade.

I grinned.

Then I snatched it from his hand with my mind, crushing it in my grip before tossing it into his open mouth. His eyes bulged—

BOOM.

His head exploded, chunks of skull and brain raining down like grisly confetti. His body collapsed, headless, twitching.

THUD. (And a wet splat.)

The tenth dropped his gun, raising his hands—"I SURRENDER! I SURRENDER!"—

I slashed his throat anyway.

His head toppled, bouncing off a crate before settling near the others.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The eleventh tried to hide behind a pillar.

I phased through the metal, appearing behind him. My sword took his head before he could scream, his body slumping as his head rolled into the open, eyes still blinking.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The twelfth pulled a machine gun.

I let him fire.

The bullets stopped mid-air, hovering like deadly bees, before I sent them back into his chest. He staggered, blood bubbling from his lips, before I finished him with a quick slash.

His head rolled, stopping at Javier’s feet.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The thirteenth wept, falling to his knees—"Dios mío, perdóname—!"—

I ended him mid-prayer.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The fourteenth—the last—turned to run, but I grabbed his ankle with my mind, yanking him backward. He screamed as he crashed to the ground, scrabbling at the blood-slick floor.

I stepped on his back, pinning him.

Then I leaned down, my voice a whisper.

"You should’ve run faster."

SLASH.

His head rolled free.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

Fourteen heads.

Fourteen bodies.

Fourteen fountains of blood, painting the warehouse in crimson.

The floor was a lake of gore, bodies twitching, fingers clawing at the air, mouths gasping their last breaths.

And three men remained.

Javier.

Diaz.

Sergio.

Their faces were pale, their eyes wide with terror, their bladders releasing in hot, shameful streams down their legs. The stench of urine mixed with the coppery tang of blood, the warehouse now a slaughterhouse.

Javier stumbled back, his voice a broken whisper. "D-Demon..."

Diaz whimpered, tears streaming down his face, his gun clattering to the ground. "No-no-no—!"

Sergio dropped to his knees, vomit spilling from his lips, his body shaking like a leaf.

The warehouse was silent now, save for the drip-drip-drip of blood and the ragged breathing of the three men who had pissed themselves in terror. The air reeked of copper, urine, and fear, thick enough to taste. Fourteen severed heads stared blankly at the ceiling, their bodies still twitching in death throes, the floor a slippery mess of gore and viscera.

I stepped forward, my swords still dripping, my boots squelching in the blood. My voice was soft, but it carried like a death sentence.

"Now..." I tilted my head, my eyes cold as ice. "Which one of you dies first?"

Sarah stood behind me, her body trembling, her face pale as parchment. She stared at the carnage, her mind struggling to process the horror before her—the bodies, the blood, the heads rolling like macabre marbles. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her fingers clutching at my arm as if I were the only thing keeping her from drowning in the madness.

Then—

She stepped forward, her plastered arms trembling as she grabbed my wrist.

"Don’t kill them." Her voice was raw, broken, but firm.

I turned to look at her, my eyebrows raising in surprise. "Do you still want to save them?" My voice was low, dangerous, but I paused, waiting for her answer.

Sarah shook her head, her tears streaming down her cheeks. "My dad..." Her voice cracked, her grip on my arm tightening.

"He would want me... to bring them to justice." She swallowed hard, her eyes burning with pain and determination. "Let them get what they deserve... legally." Her voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of her father’s memory.

I looked at her—really looked—and saw the tears in her eyes, the tremble in her lips, the raw, desperate hope that justice could still mean something in this world of monsters.

I nodded.

Then I reached out, wiping her tears with my thumb, my voice softening just for her. "Don’t worry." My tone was gentle, but my eyes never left the three trembling men. "I’ll help you."

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging in relief.

"But..." My voice darkened, my gaze snapping to Diaz, who was still whimpering on the ground, his pants soaked with urine.

"He has to die."

Sarah’s eyes widened. "Jack—!"

I didn’t let her finish.

"I won’t allow him to live." My voice was a growl, my grip on my sword tightening. "Not after thinking about insulting you like that." My eyes burned into Diaz’s terrified face. "Not after what he did to your father."