Fatal Affair

Chapter Eight

Upon hearing these words, Lily's senses returned. After a moment, she angrily shouted in a hoarse voice:

"Just because I cheated, you want to kill me? That son of a b*tch! I'll divorce you, not asking for a penny in alimony! I won't hold you accountable either, spare me, I'm in pain. I'm already feeling cold, I'm dying!"

David shook his head. "He's found a better way, killing you is the easiest solution. It's almost over, Mrs. Lily, just endure a little longer."

Standing up, David gestured with his finger, and another person in protective gear emerged from the darkness, taking photos of Lily's misery with a camera incessantly.

No one knew when she arrived, nor how long she stood in the dark corner, just a silhouette of a woman.

Beside him, David swapped for a larger machete, the icy blade swiftly swung, making a powerful swoosh sound, and Lily's head was severed without warning.

Blood gushed out instantly, the prolonged hanging had reversed her blood flow, as if a floodgate had opened, the ground instantly covered in blood.

David didn't dodge, letting the blood splatter on his protective gear, as if in meditation, in repentance, yet also seemingly enjoying the bloodbath.

The photographer stepped forward, took a few more shots of Lily's head, then quickly stepped back. Meanwhile, David had set down Lily, pulled out a chainsaw, and began dismembering.

Half an hour later, Lily was neatly packed, sealed in one transparent box after another.

David first entered another room, threw his clothes into a metal bin, then entered the adjacent shower to wash off. Flames rose from the burning protective gear in the bin, reflecting on the glass of the shower, water jets colliding with fire.

Another set of protective gear was soon stacked for burning. The photographer from earlier turned out to be a woman, a young and pretty woman at that.

She tied her youthful and vibrant hair into a ponytail, with light brown hair and fair skin, resembling a leading lady from a campus drama.

Stripping off her clothes, she tossed the protective gear into the burning bin, then joined David in the shower, grabbing his manhood, eagerly saying:

"Mr. David, your manhood is still so strong."

"David, my p***y is so itchy, I want you to f*ck me, come on, f*ck me to death!"

"Olivia, stop it!"

David pushed Olivia's hand away, leaving the bathroom, water droplets flowing down his muscular body.

Olivia touched her c******s, rubbed it fiercely, relieving the desire to burn, saying, "Of course not enough, you know, when I encounter bloody scenes, I can't help but want to make love."

"We're just assassins, not perverts," David said coldly. "I remember telling you this."

"But killing every day, it's hard not to be psychologically twisted," Olivia said pitifully, but quickly laughed, a smile that appeared more wanton and alluring on her innocent face.