Revenge After Death ( Michael Ford )
Chapter 385

Howard eventually crawled over. He lay on the table in a panic, desperately eating the leftovers that Yasmin had left behind. He was attempting to regain his strength.

Meanwhile, the four of us were still at a stalemate. Joel glanced at me surprisingly as if to acknowledge that I had finally made a clever move.

Yasmin didn't appear afraid. "Do you dare to kill me?

"Give it a try," I said with a feigned sense of composure. I pressed the dagger against her carotid artery, its sharp edge grazing her skin.

Michael's expression turned stormy as he scolded with evident anger. "Stephany Larson!"

Without a doubt, he referred to me as Stephany. He was convinced that Yasmin was actually Stephanie.

I smirked. "Ha... If you wish to spare her life, put down the food."

Michael had no option but to take over the package from Yasmin. He opened it and put down the food. Joel grabbed a portion enough for us to share and ushered me to a secluded spot in the corner.

I gazed warily at Yasmin and Michael, whispering, "Joel... they are dangerous."

The mastermind was no longer the real danger here, but rather everyone who got caught.

"Let's go and assist Steven." After eating some cakes, I sensed a slight return of strength. Hence, I proceeded to locate Steven with food and a bottle of milk.

He was assisting the woman who was a victim of domestic abuse in searching for Carol. I hurried over and promptly handed the cake to Steven.

Steven knocked on the door while eating and helped the people inside replace the keys. He walked through each room without showing any emotion, assisting everyone to escape.

In contrast to Michael and Yasmin's indifference, this lunatic and the person previously suspected of being a murderer appeared to possess a greater sense of humanity.

I asked softly, "Steve, most of the people locked up here were from the orphanage in the past. They've all harmed you and were the main ones responsible for Simmy's death. Wouldn't it be better if they stayed here and died?"

Steven fell silent. "They are indeed guilty, and it is the law and divine justice that should be responsible for punishing them. Not us. Not him."

Steven spoke in a hushed tone as he referred to the mastermind who controlled and orchestrated everything from behind the scenes.

I turned my gaze towards Steven and passed him the bottle of milk, determined to assist him in searching for Carol.

"Click." The iron door swung open, revealing Callum, the perpetrator of domestic abuse.

The first thing he did when he rushed out was not to replace food but to assault his wife. "Quinn Lloyd, you filthy bitch! Did you do it?"

Quinn cowered behind Steven and

me in fear, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. The visible wounds on her face and the corners of her mouth were clear signs of the prolonged domestic abuse she had endured.

"I advise you to conserve your energy. We may not be able to get out of here alive," I warned him.

Only then did he react, turning around and swiftly running to the end to replace food and weapons.

Despite not being a genius, most of the children from the orphanage were clever enough to replace a way escape. The differences and

changes between them and the ne

photos were significant. It was difficult for me to identify the names of those people.

Finally, Steven and I found Carol, who was nearly unconscious in a corner room. Despite knocking on the door, there was no response. "Carol!" Quinn frantically knocked on the door, calling out to her to respond.

Yet, there was no response. Panic set in. She was doomed. If she was unconscious inside, we had no idea where the key was or how to rescue her. Just when I was at a loss for what to do, Joel arrived with an ax and struck the door lock with force. Sparks scattered as he hacked away at it. After a relentless effort, the lock on the iron door was shattered. With a powerful kick, the door burst open.

Joel was the first to rush in, holding

a bottle of mineral water. He quickly approached Carol, who was dying and offered her the drink. She was huddled in the corner, her face pale. It was obvious that she couldn't hold on much longer.

There was a sentence written on her wall. "If you cannot transform this tainted world, then transform yourself. Natural selection dictates that the strong shall conquer the weak, and the feeble shall perish."

I didn't understand the meaning of that sentence, so I looked at Steven. He pointed to the corner, where a drop of blood stained a tile, standing out in stark contrast to the other clean surfaces.