Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 318 - Three Hundred And Seventeen

The terrible sound of the metal cutting into the wood echoed loudly in the silent room. It sounded like the ticking of a clock counting down to death.

Carlos scrambled backward, his hands slipping on the polished floor. He hit his back against the leg of a heavy table and could go no further. He was trapped. He stared up at his brother, trembling violently.

Derek stopped right in front of him. He looked down at the pathetic, dirty man cowering at his feet.

"It was you," Derek said. His voice was dangerously quiet. "You really have no fear."

He lifted his arm in a swift, smooth motion.

Before Carlos could even blink, Derek placed the flat of the cold steel blade right against Carlos’s dirty neck.

Carlos froze completely. He stopped breathing. He did not dare to swallow. The sharp edge of the longsword pressed firmly against his skin, right over his pulse. The steel was freezing cold.

"Where is she?" Derek asked. His voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. "Where is Marissa?"

Carlos felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. He knew he was caught, but his cowardly nature made him try to lie one last time. He tried to play the fool.

Carlos forced a weak smile onto his face. He let out a nervous, shaky chuckle.

"Why are you asking me suddenly, brother?" Carlos stammered, his eyes darting from the deadly sword to Derek’s cold eyes. "How would I know where your wife is? I have been drinking in the lower city all day. I have not seen her."

Derek did not shout. He did not argue. He simply twisted his wrist.

He turned the blade so the razor-sharp edge faced Carlos’s skin. Then, Derek pressed the sword deeper into his brother’s neck.

The sharp steel sliced easily through the top layer of skin. A thin, bright red line of blood immediately appeared. The blood beaded up and began to trickle down Carlos’s neck, staining the collar of his ruined shirt.

Carlos gasped sharply, a sound of pain and shock. His nervous chuckle died instantly.

"Bastard," Derek hissed. The absolute venom in his voice made the air in the room feel heavy. "You drugged your grandmother. You kidnapped your sister-in-law. And you think this is a game?"

Derek pushed the blade a fraction of an inch deeper.

"You think you can lie to me?" Derek asked softly. "Do you think I am a fool?"

Derek suddenly released the pressure. He pulled the sword back in a swift, sharp motion, giving Carlos a deep, painful slit across the side of his neck. It was not deep enough to kill, but it was deep enough to bleed heavily and burn like fire.

Carlos screamed, bringing both of his dirty hands up to hold his bleeding neck. The warm blood poured over his fingers. The pain shattered his lies. He realized Derek already knew everything. He realized Derek would kill him right here on the floor.

"Where is Marissa?" Derek demanded again, his voice echoing like thunder.

Carlos looked up at him. The fear in his eyes slowly twisted into something ugly and cruel. He was trapped. He was bleeding. He had nothing left to lose. If he was going to die, he wanted to hurt Derek first.

"Without doing it, I would be dead!" Carlos yelled, spitting blood from his lip. He glared at Derek with pure hatred. "Prince Liam found me! He sent his guards to drag me into an alley! He told me to bring her to him, no matter what it takes, or I will die today!"

Carlos let out a loud, cruel laugh. It was a terrible, desperate sound. He held his bleeding neck tightly, but he forced himself to smile.

"She is in Prince Liam’s residence," Carlos sneered, his eyes wide and manic. He wanted to see Derek break. "He wanted her. He has always wanted her. Do you care to guess what he is doing to her as we speak, brother?"

Carlos laughed again, a wet, ugly sound.

"He is probably tearing her clothes off right now," Carlos taunted maliciously. "He is probably taking what you think belongs to you!"

Derek stared down at his brother.

He did not roar in anger. He did not strike Carlos down. The storm inside his chest turned into a cold, focused block of ice. Carlos’s words did not break him; they only sealed Carlos’s fate permanently.

Derek slowly lifted his sword. The blade was stained with a streak of bright red blood. He reached out with his left hand and picked up the soft white cloth from the table. With slow, careful movements, he wiped Carlos’s dirty blood off his clean steel blade. He dropped the bloody cloth onto the floor.

Derek turned his back on his brother. He looked at the five Elite Shadows standing silently in the room.

"Give him a painful death," Derek ordered. His voice was completely empty of any emotion. It was simply a command.

Carlos’s cruel smile vanished instantly. The sick satisfaction he felt a moment ago evaporated, replaced by absolute, blinding terror. He realized he had pushed Derek too far. He had severed the last tiny thread of family loyalty.

"No," Carlos whispered, his eyes widening as the five men in black stepped forward simultaneously.

The Shadows drew small, wicked-looking curved knives from their belts.

"No, wait!" Carlos scrambled backward, his hands slipping in his own blood. "You cannot do this! I am your brother! We share the same blood!"

Derek began to walk toward the heavy double doors. He did not look back.

"You can’t kill your own brother, Derek!" Carlos screamed, panic tearing his throat apart. He kicked his legs, trying to get away from the silent men approaching him. "Derek!!!! Please! I am sorry! Derek!!!!"

Derek reached the doors. With a smooth, practiced motion, he slid his longsword perfectly into the leather sheath on his hip. The metal made a sharp clack.

He reached out, pushed the heavy wooden doors open, and stepped out into the brightly lit hallway.

He pulled the doors shut behind him.

As the doors clicked shut, blocking out the sight of the room, a sudden, high-pitched scream of pure agony erupted from inside. It was a terrible, inhuman sound that echoed down the quiet halls of the estate.

Derek did not stop walking. He did not flinch at the sound. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. His brother was dead to him. It was something that should have been done a long time ago.