Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 266: Angela’s Revenge

The surviving guards remained rooted to the spot, their complexions ashen with dread as their weapons wobbled in their trembling hands. Around the corpses of their fallen brothers-in-arms, blood pooled heavily, filling the room with a thick, metallic tang.

I shifted my gaze toward them, maintaining a composed, nearly mocking look while cleaning my blade with the shredded remains of my shirt. "Lay down your arms now," I commanded, my tone low and steady, "and you might just walk away from this alive."

As if on cue, their firearms hit the floor with a series of clatters that rang out like a funeral bell. They collapsed onto their knees, hands raised high as their voices quivered. "We... we give up, master," one stammered, his eyes bulging with fright. "We surrender."

A dark, knowing chuckle escaped my lips. I pointed the tip of my knife toward Walter. "Make sure he doesn't crawl away," I said, my voice laced with mockery. Walter remained sprawled on the ground, his frame shuddering violently. A dark stain of urine spread across his trousers as he struggled for ragged, panicked breaths.

However, I had no desire to be the one to end his life.

Turning away, I headed toward the bathroom, my boots grinding against shattered glass and empty brass casings. I reached the door and rapped my knuckles sharply against the wood. "Angela," I called out, keeping my voice firm and comforting, "it’s over. I’ve handled everything. You’re safe."

Silence hung in the air for a heartbeat. Then, the door creaked open a sliver, and a pair of wary, wide eyes peered through the gap. When Angela finally saw me, she sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes drifted over my blood-splattered, bare chest, lingering on the muscles forged through years of brutality and power.

A light flush colored her cheeks, but she quickly averted her gaze, her features hardening as she regained her composure.

"It's time," I said, my voice soft yet commanding. "I'm taking you to face your enemy."

Gripping her arm firmly, I led her out of the bathroom. The second she crossed the threshold into the main room, her eyes stretched wide in sheer horror.

The scene was a literal nightmare—corpses were scattered across the floor, blood painted the walls, and severed heads lay about like grisly marbles. Angela’s stomach turned, and she clamped a hand over her mouth as her face went pale. But then, her focus shifted to Walter.

He was still shivering on the floor in his own filth, his eyes wide with pure terror. The sight of his pathetic state seemed to ground her. Her nausea vanished, replaced instantly by a freezing, murderous fury.

"Go," she urged, her voice shaking with rage as she looked at me. "Kill him."

Walter’s head snapped up, his expression twisting in disbelief as if he were staring at a ghost. "No... no, Angela... why are you doing this?" he managed to choke out, his voice cracking.

Angela’s fists clenched so hard her nails drew blood from her palms. "Why am I doing this?" she echoed, her voice rising to a scream while her eyes burned with a mixture of tears and wrath. "You murdered my husband!"

Walter’s jaw dropped, his face going completely blank. "You... you knew?" he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

A laugh tore from Angela’s throat—a bitter, broken sound born from a soul filled with the kind of agony that never fades. "I know," she whispered, her voice as thin and fragile as a thread about to snap.

"I have always known." Her body trembled, not out of fear, but from the crushing weight of years of buried grief and anger. She took one step forward, then another, her eyes fixed on Walter with a burning, lethal intensity. "And now," she said, her voice low and vibrating, "you are going to pay for every single second of it."

She didn't wait to be offered the weapon. Without even glancing at me, she reached out and snatched the knife from my hand. The feel of the cold steel seemed to steady her, anchoring her to the reality of the vengeance she was about to exact.

She squeezed the hilt until her knuckles turned white, her breathing coming in sharp, jagged gasps. In the dim light, the blade shimmered wickedly—a silent testament to the revenge she had envisioned for so long.

"You and your son," she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "You stripped everything away from me." She pressed her free hand against her chest, as if trying to physically hold her broken heart together.

"You didn't just murder my husband—you slaughtered the last part of me capable of love or hope." Her voice broke, her entire frame shaking under the pressure of her emotions. "You turned me into someone heartless... even to my own daughter. When she looks at me, all she sees is the void you created."

Walter tried to scramble backward, his hands sliding in the slick blood on the floor as he gasped for air. "Angela, please—" he wheezed, his eyes bulging with fright. "I didn't realize you—"

"You knew!" she shrieked, her voice raw with pure suffering. "You knew exactly what you were doing! You knew, and you didn't give a damn!" Her grip on the knife tightened further, her whole body vibrating with the force of her malice.

"I wore a mask. I smiled and pretended I didn't know the blood on your hands belonged to my husband!" Her voice sank to a tear-choked whisper. "But I knew. Every. Single. Day."

She lunged.

With a sickening, wet thud, the blade buried itself in Walter’s chest. He let out a sharp gasp, his body twitching as the steel tore through his flesh, his eyes wide with agony and shock.

Angela didn't hesitate. She ripped the knife out and plunged it back in, her breath hitching in ragged sobs. "You stole him from me!" she wailed, her voice fracturing as she drove the blade deeper. "You stole him from her!" Another strike landed. "You took everything!"

Walter convulsed beneath her, his hands making weak, futile attempts to push her away, but she was possessed. The knife rose and fell repeatedly, each stab accompanied by a desperate, gut-wrenching scream. "Why?!" she wept, her tears splashing onto his gore-stained chest.

"Why did you do it?! Why?!" Her voice was a chaotic blend of despair and fury as she continued to strike, repeatedly piercing his heart as if she could rewrite history with every blow.

"Angela..." Walter wheezed, blood foaming at his lips, his voice fading to nothing. "I—"

"Shut up!" she screamed, her voice shattered and raw. "You don't get to talk! You don't get to make excuses! Your only job is to die!" The knife sank in once more, her entire being shaking with the weight of her sorrow. "You destroyed us! You ruined everything!"