LILIANA

The moment the sadist exits, his goons fall in line, gagging and confining me. I'm left alone with the haunting presence of the corpse. My mind begins to conjure gruesome images which amplifies my fear.

Being locked in with a corpse isn't something I have gone through like I do a walk in the park.

Seconds bleed into minutes and hours until I hear the door creak open once more. The men walk in and my restraints are removed.

Simultaneously, my heart leaps into my throat when their boss's threats come back to haunt me.

He would be in for a surprise if he thought I'd let these men have sex with me without one of them losing an organ at least.

Again, my eyes flit over to where the dead man lies with a hole in his head and blood that forms a halo around his head. A shiver racks through my spine and I tear my gaze away.

How did I end up in the lair of such a dangerous man? If he could kill one of his own without remorse, there is no telling what he could do to me.

One of the men grunts, his hands tightening around my arm to pull - yank me to my feet. They are a bit wobbly as I rise but I force myself to straighten.

Steel, baby, steel, I chant loudly in my head over again.

Flanked by two burly men and their iron grip on my arms, I'm escorted out of the room as my mind races with futile escape plans.

Think, Lily. Think!

The endless corridor stretches before us, likely leading to the depths of their lair. We reach our destination and before I can react, I'm bound to another unforgiving chair. The ropes dig into my skin, promising to leave a dark-purple reminder of my captivity.

I wince in pain but not a sound slips out of my mouth. It would be better to slit my own throat than let these fools know their actions are getting to me.

The room's darkness is almost suffocating, except for a small window high above - a subtle reminder that night has fallen.

I sit frozen, waiting for the silence to confirm I'm alone. But before I can process grim reality, a torrent of freezing water assaults me.

“The fuck!” The muffled words slip out before I think to clench my teeth together. The water sinks its iciness into my bones like an iron thong hammered into the earth.

“Shut up!” One of them barks at me before they all exit one after the other.

The silence is now filled with sounds of my chattering despite all my efforts to not make any. Tears drip down my face hidden by the wetness as I think about how my life has taken a brutal twist.

One moment, I was mourning my husband; the next, I was kidnapped and brought to the lair of a madman with forgiveness issues.

If only I had just let Eric come with as he pleaded. Not only have I brought trouble upon, I have succeeded in dragging into the consequences of my recklessness.

You've gone and done it, Liliana. Brilliant, I think to myself in my broken despair.

I close my eyes and let the tears flow. After a while, I feel a sense of relief wash over me but I know it's short-lived. I need to stay strong to fight back against these monsters.

The hours drag on and exhaustion starts to creep in. There is deafening silence punctuated by the sound of water dripping to the cemented floor from my wet clothes.

I fight against the exhaustion as it comes in full swing to pull my eyelids close and lure me to unconsciousness. Instead, I stay determined to be awake and prepared for whatever comes next.

Sleep would be a vulnerability I can't afford.

At long last when the first light of dawn creeps into the dungeon casting eerie shadows on the walls, I straighten my aching spine, bracing myself for the inevitable return of my tormentors.

Thankfully, the men hadn't stepped in here at night to do the unthinkable. I shudder lightly.

The door creaks open and Damian walks in with a smirk twisting his face. His mismatched blue and brown orbs pierce into my soul as he takes a long look at me.

If he wasn't such a bastard at the moment, I would look his way more than twice.

“Good morning.” He coos in that stupid baritone voice. “Did you have a refreshing night?”

I meet his gaze as my voice laces with sarcasm. “Oh, it was fabulous. The five-star accommodation and excellent customer service made my stay truly unforgettable.”

He chuckles, the gravelly sound unsettling as it travels throughout my body to pool low in the pit of my stomach.

What the hell?

He meanders so close to me, the upper part of his face partially hidden by the growing shadows. I see the bruise I'd given him earlier and my smile widens. I gave him something to nurse after all.

His eyes glint in the darkness.

“I’m glad you appreciate our hospitality. Now, shall we continue our conversation?”

Defiance burns through me and I snort, “Conversation? Do you mean the part where you try to break me and I refused to crack? Your men haven't told you how failed you are for a boss, have they?”

His jaw ticks in anger even though his face says something different. “I see you didn't lose that smart mouth.”

“Lose it? Oh no, it's a treasure for bastards of your kind.” I retort in anger.

“This bastard has a lot of better use he would like to put that mouth to.” A corner of his lips lifts to punctuate the meaning of his words.

A shiver travels throughout my entire body and I wonder why it's not from the wet clothes clinging onto my skin.

His smile widens and I begin to wonder just how cuckoo in the head he is. “You're quite the spitfire, Liliana. I admire that.”

Before I can stop it, my face freezes at the mention of my name. “Don't bother trying to charm me. Your fake smiles and empty words won't get you anywhere.” I snap, my tone venomous.

He studies me for a split second before giving an unperturbed roll of his broad shoulders. “We'll see about that.”

He gestures to his henchmen who move to restrain me as if I wasn't already tied to a stifling immobility. I struggle against their grip, but they're too strong.

“Let's get started properly, shall we?” He says, his voice dripping with malice. Gone was the friendly steward and in his place was the unfeeling monster who was holding me captive.

The one I'm used to.

My heart races. I steel myself for the ordeal ahead. I know I won't go down without a fight.

Damian's anger is palpable and his eyes come to burn with intensity. He turns to me.

“You think you're doing yourself any good by keeping the secret of your husband's whereabouts away from me? Thinking you can outsmart me?” His voice is low and menacing.

I meet his glare, refusing to back down. “You're desperate to pin something on me, but you have nothing. I already told you I have nothing to say but you're too thickheaded to listen.”

His smile is calculated and too cold. Another shiver has my teeth chattering for a second. “You're going to regret underestimating me, Liliana.”

I hate the way each syllable rolls off his tongue when he calls my name like that. I just want to bash his head in with a piece of wood again and again until I'm drenched in his blood.

He paces around the room like a caged tiger bidding its time, his agitation fueling. “You know, I've broken tougher people than you. You're just a –”

“Window dressing?” I suggest in a sweet tone. “A mere prop in your twisted game? Perhaps, the doorknob as it is easily replaceable?”

He's in front of my face in seconds. His eyes flash with anger that oddly gives me satisfaction. “Shut up!”

I shrug, unfazed. “Or what? You'll torture me? Kill me?” I lean forward in my seat even though the restraints only allow me so little room. “I'm already living in hell, dumbo. You can't do worse than I have been through.”

I make sure to lean as close as I'm allowed to his face, our breaths mingling together. I don't mind that mine is filthy at the moment. That's his cross to bear.

His nostrils flare in anger, his eyes coming to life in the shadows. For a moment, I think he'll lose control and strike me. But he reins himself in, his expression smoothing into a calculated calm.

“Let's take a break,” he says, surprising me. “I'll let you think about your cooperation.”

He exits the room, leaving me shaken. Determination fuelling me as well. As I sit there in the dim light of dawn, I realize that he's losing control. If I push a little more, he'll crack.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps. Lighter, more hesitant than his. The door opens and a new player enters.

DAMIAN

The walk to my bedroom takes longer than usual and the rising need to get away from that she-devil comes faster than my erections at the sight of a willing woman chained to my bed. This one threatens to consume me.

How can such a small woman make me lose my cool, twice in barely twenty-four hours? I muse to myself while the image of her face pops up.

If I don't hear from her husband, I'd have to order her death. No one is to be spared if I don't catch the real culprits. Stellëza would be looking down at me with an upturned nose and her pouty lips curled downward in disapproval but what do I care?

They touched what was mine first.

I produce my phone to bark orders at my men who are still on the lookout for the rest of those killers. Their response is in the negative and it only manages to make me see more red than I have ever seen.

I nearly punch a hole into my bedroom door as soon as I approach but the urge simmers down when a familiar sultry voice calls my name. Walking behind her is a very red-faced older woman, Alice.

“There you are!” Melanie calls out with her skimpy dress riding up her thighs as she raises her hands towards me.

My face shows no expression as I let her arms wrap around my middle and let her pepper kisses on my collarbone down to the front of my chest.

She looks up at me with her lashes fluttering in a childlike manner. “Little Miss Grumpy here told me you weren't home. I insisted on seeing you, so here I am. Today's Thursday, and I know you don't go out except it is really important.”

“Damian, you know how you like your privacies on Thursdays?” Alice begins cautiously with her eyebrows raised. I nod for her to continue. “I tried to stop her but she was too thickheaded to listen to my words.”

She is right. On Wednesday nights, I find myself dreading waking up to see a Thursday morning. When it does happen, all I do is shut everyone up and out of my life.

Where in the world should I be on the very day that my girlfriend was murdered in cold blood?

I see Alice's chest rising and falling in quick succession. She is in her late fifties and Melanie couldn't care less for her age. It's a good thing she has a humiliation kink and a weakness for being tied up in bed.

Otherwise, I'd have asked that she get punished and banned from ever stepping foot on these grounds.

I catch the scowl on Melanie's face directed at Alice, right before she turns to me with her face schooled to cuteness. “It's been weeks, baby. I've waited endlessly for your calls and didn't hear from you. You're only treating me unfairly because you know how crazed I am over you, how deeply crave your touch, how badly I… adore you.”

There's a scoff. I raise my eyes to meet Alice's departing figure as she walks down the hallway. Hiding my smile, my gaze rivets back to a pouting Melanie.

I disentangle her arms around me with one hand as I lean closer to her. “I've told you before Mel, and I'll say it again. Don't come here if I didn't invite you.”

She rolls her eyes as she resigns to my words. “You don't play fair. You call me every time you need me, I can't do the same. How’s that logic working for me? I'll tell you, it's not doing jack to ache this burning I feel for you.” She presses her body flush against mine.

A corner of my mouth tugs upwards. I'm familiar with her mind games. “This isn't anything like a relationship, Melanie. This is merely an arrangement but in this case, I'm the one who's calling the shots, not you. I'm the one who reaches out when I need to be satisfied, not you. Your body is mine to use as I choose. So if you can't abide by my terms, you can leave.”

“Fine!” She stomps her foot in childish anger. “I'm going back home.”

Not on my watch.

She barely moves an inch when I pull her back against me roughly. Her blue eyes spark with lust and out of her lips is the gasp of a silent ‘o’.

“You're going nowhere,” I growl against the shell of her ears. “Yet.”

She smells of citrus and even though I hate how it tickles my nose when she's in such proximity, it is the least of my worries.

Not when I need a vessel to empty all of my frustrations. She knows what she's here for.

The hand around her arm squeezes tighter and I lean a little towards her. “Did you say something?”

“I'm sorry…” she purses her lips before blowing an exhale, “Daddy.”

Those words ignite a fresh surge of lust pumping into my veins. Instead of heading to my room, I trap her body with mine against the wall opposite us, quickly nudging her thighs apart with my feet. Her back to my front.

No words are exchanged between us except for harsh breaths that indicate the lust carrying in our veins.

I yank her little dress up to her waist, reaching for the flimsy piece she always wears as an excuse for underwear only to find it bare and dripping with her essence. I rub two fingers against her slit to her engorged nub which I give a tap.

She exhales sharply and lolls her head back. “Yes, Daddy!” Her moans ring out loud and clear across the hallway.

“Someone's a little hungry.” I croon into her hair as I thrust three of my fingers suddenly into her.

Her body trembles and her pussy welcomes the intrusion of my hands like a starving kid presented with freshly baked buns. I raise my fingers to her face and she grabs them to slurp up her juices coating them, with low moans ringing from within her chest.

“Love how you taste?”

She pushes back against me, impatient. To that, I send another sharp slap to her pussy, so hard that her body bows and she gasps. “Yes!”

It's louder than the first.

I smirk. In seconds, my slacks are hanging low as I line my dick up to her entrance. “Say, Mel, to whom do you owe your life?”

She shudders at my question and without hesitation says, “You. Fuck, it's you!”

“Names, Mel.” I run my dick along her clit down to her pussy in slow strokes. “Names.”

I stop at her entrance, poised and ready to strike.

Her torso is bent halfway on the wall with her hips shooting out towards me. Her manicured fingers dig into the wall as she braces herself for the impact.

“Damian Kastorov!”

I lose common reasoning as I take her right there in the hallway. I plow into her rough and hard like an overcharged bull.

My movements are choppy and fast. I throw my head back in ecstasy as her pussy wraps around me like a fitted glove.

“You. Are. Mine. To. Fuck.” I grind out between clenched teeth. My fingers reach for her blonde hair tied into a ponytail.

I wrap it around my hand and pull it so that her neck is bared to me. I lean down and bite down on that spot. Alternating between sucking, licking, and biting down on that spot, I drive faster into her as I feel the impending storm of my climax in the telltale tightening of my balls.

“Yes, oh yes! Fuck!” Her voice is hoarse from her screams.

Two hands encircle her waist as I lift her, thrusting savagely from below. Every grunt I make punctuates the thrust of my hips digging into her wet snatch.

“Eta pizda moya,” I call out harshly, jaw locking when the tingle spreads to my head. “Touch yourself,” I order.

“This cunt will forever…” She says but the rest of her words are drowned out by the climax that sends blood rushing to my ears.

My strokes become long and hard, riding through my orgasm and calling out hers.

Every muscle in her body tenses for a millisecond before her hips buck wildly and she spasms against me. A slew of curses and pledges of her life to me leaves her lips.

“This pussy is yours, daddy! Brand me with your cum.” She moans loudly while her fingers are feverishly working to end her orgasm.

I pump into her roughly for a few minutes before I feel myself bottom out into her spasming pussy. Afterward, I pull out and lower her to her feet.

Her feet wobble and she slides to the ground with a shit-eating grin on her face from being fucked that way. Fast and hard.

After putting her dress in order, she presses against me once more. “That was aggressive. I like it.” She tries to catch me unguarded with a kiss but I move my face so fast that it lands on my jaw.

“Sleek little bitch.” I tell her with an amused expression.

She sucks hard on it. Letting the skin go with a pop, she eyes her hard work like a masterpiece sitting in a museum. Her blue eyes are cloudy as she gazes back at me.

“You fucked me sore, daddy. That's why no one is more fitting for you than I.” She purrs. Her lashes sweep open lazily. “I think we should do this sometime soon.”

She grabs her purse off the carpeted floor and wobbles her way out of my sight. Evident is the puddle of our pleasure on the carpet and I make a mental note to have it discarded later.

I move to my bedroom door once again but stop midway when Melanie's words come back to mind. My fingers hover over the doorknob with one question hanging over my head.

How do I explain that the wench's defiance was my fuel?

LILIANA

As I sit bound to this chair, the last person I expect to see walks in - a petite girl with a ragged doll clutched in her fingers.

On her frail form is a flower-patterned dress made out of cotton which almost succeed in making her look harmless.

She has a head filled with dreadlocks which blend with her caramel skin. Yet, she looks… deranged?

No, unstable is the word.

One of the men quickly bring a chair which they place in front of me. She mutters something to their hearing and they nod.

Lowering herself to the seat, she says, “I need to go back to bed.” Her voice is barely audible. Her head, bowed. “You only have a few minutes to answer my question.”

Laughter bubbles out of my throat before I think twice about it. I toss an incredulous look at the burly men situated in the corners of the room.

“You all are so pathetic for dragging a little girl into your sick mess. Your boss ran away with his tail for a dick between his legs and presented me with this?” I scoff.

“What next? Annabelle?” My tone is dripping with derision. The man is twisted beyond redemption.

Her head snaps up, and I feel a shiver travel down my spine.

“Liljana Hoxha.” She calls ever so softly, her Albanian accent sending a chill through me. “My apologies, the man is too crude in his ways.”

When she raises her eyes to meet mine, they're like void; bottomless and dark. I straighten in my seat, watching her with curiosity and dread. My insides are knotted tight but with what?

I can't place my fingers on it.

However, judging from the energy shift in the atmosphere, this little girl hasn't the innocence that embodies one.

“You know Nicolo, don't you?” She asks, paying her doll special attention like it is alive. “If you deny knowing him, then you're tagged an accomplice to his child trafficking.”

My eyebrow raise in amusement. “Child trafficking? That's a stupid accusation, little girl. Try something else if you need to get me to squeak.”

She giggles. I feel terror climb up my spine at the sound. “Should I show it to her?” She says to her dumb doll like they're in a bubble of their own.

She lowers the doll and turns her palm open towards me. There's a small picture of the man, Nicolo, he is butt naked with his smiling face turned towards the camera.

What I see next has my blood filling with ice. Underneath him is a little girl whose face is shaped in what might be a look of pain and fear combined.

The fact that he is filmed during this act and finds it humorous is what sickens me.

I'd always known there was something off about him. I just didn't think it was down to this level of depravity.

I manage to school my expression, then answer, “The only things we have ever exchanged are pleasantries. I don't know what business he's involved in. The last I saw him was at my wedding.”

She giggles again and I have to look at the men with furrowed eyebrows to question her sanity.

“He’s dead.” She announces with a creepy smile that sends another sliver of dread into me.

The sudden news startle me. If anything, she seems happier at her own revelation. “Where's your husband?”

“Get her out!” I spit instead of the words that come to mind at that moment. I'm unsure whether telling a child to fuck off is appropriate.

“You're so innocent.” She comments after she rakes her eyes throughout my body in scrutiny. “You seem innocent. And hurt too.” After a while adds, “Did those men get to you too?”

I suddenly lose my cool when I feel her probing somewhere in my mind. “I need her out of here right this instant!” I yell to the men who choose to play dumb.

Someone bellows. “Hey! We decide who leaves and who stays. So shut your running mouth and answer the giddamn question.”

I scowl at him, my anger rising at not being able to flip him the bird. “You're an asshole.”

“That's a compliment used by so many. I need new one. Maybe you'll give me when I get you moaning under me.” He retorts with a sick smile.

I lean forward and retch so hard that my body heaves despite the binds. My throat feels sore by the time I'm done and my mouth is bitter from bile as well.

“Burn in hell.” I spit with venom, eyeing him with rage coursing through me.

“Ladies first.” He winks.

I struggle against my bonds all to no avail. My breath comes out in short rasps after my futile attempts. Then I resort to the best I can in the condition I'm in; I glare hard.

The little girl squats in front of me. She smells of wild roses and dried urine. “We need to know your husband's whereabout. That way we can do justice for whatever wrong he has done to you.”

I keep mute at her assumptions. As long as I'm held hostage without my permission, they would not get me to speak against Kyle.

If they had the guts, why not when he was still alive? Bloody cowards all of them. Just like their boss.

She reaches out to tuck my hair between my ears and glides her fingers down my face, stopping at my chin. She is being provocative on purpose.

I wince when she presses into the bruise on the side of my face. When I yank my head out of her grip, she startles me by tightening her fingers on my chin in a vice grip.

She hisses, “You will reply as long as I ask a question. The knowledge of the whereabouts of your husband is in your head and I need it so I can go back to sleep.” Her voice hardens, rising to a crescendo as she speaks.

I feel a small crack in the spot where she holds. Any second now and my jaws could go slack. “Yes.” I wince as I ground out.

The moment she lets go, shame fills me at my easy submission.

“Good.”

Gone is the adult and back in it's place is the harmless little girl. She peers into my eyes with deep sated sorrow that pulls her features down.

“He hurt you and will continue to. You don't realize it yet. I can help you.” Her voice is a small whisper as she rambles on.

I have lost track of her jargons, trapped in the maze of her words.

“Why is he holding me hostage?” I speak in a hushed whisper matching hers.

She smiles genuinely this time. “He'll save you. He's coming to save you.”

I want to hit my head against a surface so I can wake up from this this nightmare.

How badly I want to kick her too. Then again, she's just a child who's fucked up in the head.

She straightens.

I scrunch my nose at the pungent stench of urine. “I don't need anyone's saving. I need to go home, take a proper shower and freshen up. I suggest you take one too.”

Her features brightens suddenly and it suggests to me that her next words would spell a disaster.

“Why go all the way home when you can have a shower in one of the many bathrooms in this house?”

I knew it. The little fucker.

Before I utter a word of protest, she turns to the men with a bounce. “Take her to Alice with instructions to have her thoroughly washed. Oh, her breath stinks too.”

I've never felt more insulted by anyone. Let alone such a small kid.

Heaven help me!