Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 921: Bleeding for the Greater Game



Chapter 921: Bleeding for the Greater Game



I forced a calm, brotherly nod, keeping my expression neutral. "Sister Yuko... of course. Let’s go outside and talk. I can show you around the neighborhood a bit—clear the air."


She scoffed loudly, a bitter sound that cut through the room like a whip. Without another word, she shoved past me, her shoulder clipping mine hard enough to sting, and stormed out the front door into the fading evening light.


Marina and Julie exchanged subtle glances—they knew precisely what this confrontation was about, the tangled web of relationships and secrets—but neither showed a trace of worry. They trusted my ability to navigate the chaos, to bend it to my will.


I followed Yuko outside, the door clicking shut behind me. She strode ahead with furious purpose, her posture rigid, shoulders hunched forward as if carrying the weight of betrayal.


She refused to glance back, but I could see the telltale redness rimming her eyes, tears welling but stubbornly held back—pride warring with pain.


We walked in heavy, oppressive silence through the quiet residential streets, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows.


Yuko’s pace quickened until she abruptly veered into a narrow, shadowed alley—overgrown with weeds, littered with discarded crates, and flickering under a single dim streetlamp. The air here was thicker, musty, isolated from the world.


I followed without hesitation.


She stopped dead in the middle, her back to me for a long moment. Then, her hand dropped to her waist in a deliberate motion. In one swift, practiced pull, she drew a slim, gleaming knife from a hidden sheath—the blade catching the faint light, sharp and unforgiving.


I pretended not to notice, keeping my steps even, my face a mask of innocent concern.


Yuko spun on her heel, her eyes blazing crimson with a storm of rage, betrayal, and raw heartbreak—tears now glistening freely on her lashes. "Bastard..." she whispered, voice trembling with fury. "I’ll kill you. For everything you’ve done."


She lunged forward in a blur—knife slashing through the air toward my throat—but at the last second, her arm faltered.


The cold edge pressed against my skin, hovering there, trembling. She couldn’t bring herself to slice, to draw blood. Fear flickered in her eyes—not of me, but of actually hurting someone she’d once trusted, once cared for in her own fierce way. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, chest heaving.


I widened my eyes in feigned shock and confusion, my voice pitching higher with pretend panic. "S-Sis... Sister Yuko... what’s happening...? Why...?"


"You bastard," she snarled, her free hand grabbing my collar and yanking me closer, knife still at my throat. Her voice cracked like thunder.


"You deceived me... deceived Haruna’s feelings from the very start. Marina is your girlfriend—you’ve been with her all along! You already had someone, and you still wormed your way into my sister’s heart—hurt her, toyed with her emotions."


"I told you... I warned you not to hurt her, not to do anything that would break her. And this is what you do? Lie, cheat, manipulate? I’ll kill you for it!"


With a guttural cry, her free hand reared back and slammed into my stomach—a solid, brutal punch that drove the air from my lungs.


I let the blow connect fully, doubling over with a choked, wheezing gasp, staggering back a step as pain bloomed sharp and real (though my healing factor could mend it in seconds—I held it back, letting the bruise form visibly under my shirt).


Then, to amp up the guilt, I coughed violently—deliberately forcing a spray of blood up from my throat, crimson flecks splattering across her shirt, her cheek, even dotting the knife’s blade. I clutched my abdomen, wheezing dramatically, my face twisting in exaggerated agony.


I looked up at her through watering eyes, my expression one of pure, wounded loss—betrayed innocence. "Sister... Yuko... things aren’t what you think... please..."


Rage and instant guilt twisted her features into a mask of torment. With a furious shove, she threw me down hard onto the grimy alley floor—my back hitting the concrete with a thud that jarred my bones.


She straddled my chest in a flash, knees pinning my arms, her weight pressing down as tears finally spilled over, tracking down her flushed cheeks.


Fist after fist rained down—pummeling my jaw, cheekbones, nose—with raw, unbridled force. Each impact stung fiercely because I refused to block or heal the surface wounds, letting bruises swell, skin split, blood smear across her knuckles, and drip from my lip.


I groaned with each hit, body jerking under her, pretending the pain was overwhelming—gasping, wincing, even letting out a weak, broken whimper to sell the vulnerability.


"Why, Jack?" she sobbed between punches, her voice fracturing with every word, tears dripping onto my bloodied face.


"Why? Were you just having fun? Playing us like fools from the beginning—laughing behind our backs? Did our trust mean nothing to you?"


I shook my head weakly against the ground, voice hoarse and pleading through the metallic tang of blood. "Sister Yuko... I... I’m really not... I swear..."


"Liar!" she screamed, another punch cracking against my cheekbone, sending fresh blood spraying. "You’re still lying—even now!"


Her assaults slowed as exhaustion and sorrow took hold, her fists trembling mid-air. Finally, she stood, chest heaving, tears streaming unchecked.


One last vicious kick to my side sent me skidding across the filthy alley floor, rolling into a puddle of grime and gasping dramatically as if my ribs were cracked.


"Get away from us," she hissed, voice raw and broken, knife still clutched white-knuckled in her hand. "Never contact Haruna or me again. Or I swear on everything... I will really kill you this time. Slowly."


I pushed myself up on shaking arms, blood dripping steadily from my chin, face a swollen, battered mess (healing factor working internally to keep me functional, but I left the external damage vivid—bruises purpling, cuts oozing—for maximum effect).


I clutched my side, wincing theatrically with every breath, pretending the pain radiated deep. "Sister Yuko... wait... please... just listen to me... give me one chance to explain... I’m begging you..."



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