Chapter 30
Chapter 30
AXEL’S POV:
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Now, her real story begins.
We’ve been playing this game of hide and seek for far too long, her scurrying around like a rat while I stood as the hunter, patient yet relentless. But the time for games was over. It was time she learned what made me infamous–a name whispered in fear, a shadow cast over the weak and the rebellious
alike.
When she spat, “Get it over with, moron,” it ignited a fire in me. I felt the pull of my gun, the itch in my finger to press the trigger and let go. A single, clean bullet to her forehead could end this charade in seconds.
But no.
A rebellious little bitch like her didn’t deserve the grace of a quick death. Mercy was for the deserving, and Avery…she was far beneath it. She had to be reminded–taught–the meaning of fear, of pain. Breaking her, piece by piece, was mine to savor.
I circled her, watching her battered form like a hawk studying prey. Cuts and bruises marked every corner of her skin. Her face showed exhaustion–dirt smeared along her jaw, and blackened eyes surrounded by purple shadow.
Good. We’d start here.
“So, dear wife,” I said in mockery, “why have you been running from me?”
Her head snapped up, and for a moment, I almost admired her tenacity. Despite the chains holding her, despite the wounds on her body, that fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed. Not yet.
“Don’t fucking call me that!” she lashed out, her voice trembling with fury. “I’m nobody’s wife.”
“Careful with that tongue of yours–it might just get you into more trouble,” I ordered.
Her cheeks flushed, anger replacing what little fear had crept into her expression. She was a fighter, no doubt about it. Most women in her position
sh I’d never would’ve begged for mercy by now, offering themselves as an appeasing gift, but not her. And though
admit it aloud, I reveled in the challenge
she posed.
She thought she could match me? Foolish girl.
he had on. He Without a word, I stepped closer and reached for the collar of ther ridiculous gown she on. Her body flinched involuntarily, and that slight, instinctive reaction pleased me. I gripped the fabric and tore it apart with one swift motion, the sound her, ignoring her struggles, ignoring the spitfire words she hurled at me like daggers.
sound of ripping cloth filling the cold cell. Piece by piece, I stripped
She was left exposed, bound in her chains. Her head hanging to the side, her eyes squeezing shut as
When the last shred of fabric fell to the floor, s
humiliation took over her.
“Look at me,” I dangerously growled.
She didn’t move, her stubborn silence only stoking the fire within me.
I watched her, my chest rising and falling in rhythm with the me to try harder. And I did.
smirk
og onto my face. She was defiant, teeth bared, chin tilted as though daring
I slapped her.
The first strike landed with a satisfying crack against her cheek. Her head whipped to the side, hair spilling over her shoulder like a curtain. I gave her no time to recover. Again, and again, my palm connected with her skin, each slap harder, leaving her cheek a burning, vibrant red. She gasped, but no sound of surrender came. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
Chapter 30
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“Still biting your tongue?” I snarled, leaning closer.
Her eyes, though dulled with pain, still held that maddening spark of rebellion. She spit blood onto the floor, smugly smiling at me. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
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Her teeth were flecked with bloodstains.
Her words fueled the rage in me. I grabbed her jaw roughly, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You think this is the worst I can do? You think I’m just getting started?” I released her with a shove, letting her head fall forward.
To my right, the wall loomed like a silent sentinel, smooth and unassuming to the untrained eye. But I knew better. I crossed the room, pressing a palm against a brick near the corner. A soft click reverberated, followed by the low groan of stone sliding apart. The wall split slightly, revealing a hidden cache of tools meticulously arranged in rows.
I had this in every cell. Concealing it to the eyes of the offender, getting them to relax, and then suddenly revealing it, leaving them shocked, was all part of the mental torture. Knives of varying sizes, alongside chains, branding irons, vials of unknown liquids and so much more. This was my playground–a collection that had seen the ruin of many before her.
I picked up a small, dusty bottle of alcohol. The amber liquid inside sloshed as I unscrewed the cap, the scent acrid as it hit my nostrils. Turning back to her, I held it up like a prize.
Her weak laughter caught me off guard. “Look at you,” she croaked, blood dripping from her lips. “You’re pathetic. All men like you are. Weak cowards who think yelling and hitting a woman make them strong.”
Her words burned more than I cared to admit. I clenched my jaw, knuckles tightening around the bottle. She was unraveling me, pushing me toward the edge of my carefully cultivated control. How was she still standing tall, even metaphorically, after everything? How could she still challenge me?
“Pathetic?” I repeated, the word tasting bitter in my mouth. “Let’s see how pathetic this feels.”
I tilted the bottle, letting the alcohol pour over her head. It soaked her hair, dripping down her face and over her shivering body. The liquid seeped into her fresh cuts, igniting her skin like fire. Her reaction was immediate–her back arched, and a scream tore from her throat as she thrashed against the chains holding her in place.
“You’re putting on an amazing show with your breast juggling like that. Maybe I should call my
men to
watch too,” I snarled, circling her slowly.
I enjoyed watching her in pain.
Her breathing was labored, her chest heaving as she fought against the pain. “Fuck you” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“Language!” I lost it, using the bottom of the bottle to slam into her stomach. She winced in pain.
Placing the empty bottle onto a nearby table
force, it broke. Shards of glass scatter across the floor. “Maybe I should cut that tongue of yours out,” I said. I leaned in close, so close I could feel her shallow breaths against my face. “Or better yet, call one of my men in here. Have him shove his cock so far down your throat that you’ll choke on it. Would you like that, Mrs. Blackwood?”
“=
Her reaction was subtle but telling. Her eyes widened for just a fraction of a second, genuine fear crossing her face. Interesting. She didn’t fear pain. She didn’t fear death. But the idea of her dignity being stripped–that struck a nerve.
“Well, well,” I said, my tone mocking. “Looks like we’ve found your weakness. You’re not as unshakable
as you pretend to be.”
She glared at me. “Do whatever you want,” she spat. “You’ll never get that satisfaction you so desperately seek.”
Led her. Her body
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I stepped back, crossing my arms as |
battered, bloodied, and trembling, but her spirit remained intact. It was infuriating–and thrilling. Shy wasn’t she crumbling or begging for mercy? Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough. She was a challenge, and I was determined to win.
“You don’t understand how this works, do you?” I
“Go ahead. Show me how much of a coward Ban. “Everyone breaks. It’s just a matter of time. And when you do, it will be beautiful.”
you really are.”
21:29 Wed, 16 Apr
Chapter 30
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I picked up a length of chain, swinging it experimentally before letting it lash against the ground with a crack. Her body tensed, her breathing quickening as she anticipated my next move. But I didn’t strike her. Not yet.
Instead, I let the chain graze her skin, dragging it slowly across her exposed backs. Her muscles twitched, a shiver running down her spine despite her
efforts to remain still. It was then that I noticed the ink.
A tattoo ran the length of her spine, and symbols were etched into her flesh in a neat vertical line from the nape of her neck to her tailbone. It was unexpected, a stark contrast to her otherwise innocent appearance. Heaned in, tracing a finger over the black ink.
“Now, what’s this?” I mused aloud, my finger tracing the design.
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