Emily's POV:

The cold metal bites into my wrists, the weight of the chains heavier than the fear curling in my stomach. I pull against them, the sound of rattling links cutting through the suffocating silence. My breathing is shallow, unsteady.

The room is dim, flickering candlelight casting restless shadows against the stone walls. The scent of old leather, smoke, and something darker-something rotten-clings to the air, thick and suffocating. But beneath it all, there's him. His presence taints every molecule, wrapping around me like an invisible chokehold.

I know he's here before I see him.

He stands in the doorway, watching. Silent. Unreadable. A king in black, carved from ice and sin. The flickering light catches the sharp angles of his face-ruthless jaw, cruel lips, predatory eyes that miss nothing.

Something in the air shifts as he steps forward, the sound of his boots echoing like a death knell. I press myself back, instinct screaming at me to get away, but there's nowhere to go. The chains ensure that.

Still, I lift my chin, forcing steel into my voice.

"Is this what you do? Chain women in basements like some deranged animal?"

A low chuckle rumbles from him. Amused. Unbothered. Wrong.

He crouches in front of me, impossibly close. Heat radiates from him, suffocating in the cold room. His scent-spice, smoke, and something darker, metallic-wraps around me like a ghost. His fingers trail up my jaw, light as a whisper but heavy with intent.

"You mistake me for a man who plays fair, kotenok."

His thumb lingers at my pulse, pressing just enough to remind me who holds all the control here.

I swallow hard, refusing to let him see how my heart betrays me.

"Then what do you want?"

His smirk is slow, wicked.

"Everything."

A shiver runs down my spine. His touch ghosts lower, pausing at my collarbone.

"You will be initiated into Dayavolicia-willing or not."

My breath catches.

"I don't want to-what does that even mean?"

His eyes darken, swallowing the dim light like a void.

"You will know."

He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a promise wrapped in obsession.

"And when you do, you'll understand..."

The air between us crackles, thick with something more terrifying than hatred. He pulls back just enough to trap me in his gaze. Icy. Unforgiving. Consuming.

"There is no escaping me."

The metal glows red-hot in his hands, the heat distorting the air. My body tenses, every muscle screaming.

I thrash. Fight. Beg.

"Please-"

He just watches. Cold. Unyielding.

"Shh, kotenok." He murmurs, crouching before me. He reaches out, brushing damp hair from my face with a touch so gentle it makes me sick.

His gloved fingers trail down my throat, his touch deceptively soft as he tilts my chin up. He studies me, drinking in my fear like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Do you know why I'm doing this?"

His voice is low, almost soothing. Lying.

I shake my head. I know the answer, but I need to hear him say it.

He leans in, lips ghosting over my ear.

"Because you are mine."

My stomach twists.

His hands move lower, down my throat, across my collarbone-pausing there.

"It could have been here," he muses, tracing my skin, letting me imagine the fire branding me just above my heart.

"A reminder that you belong to me-heart and soul."

His fingers slide to my wrists, where the chains have already left bruises.

"Or here. So every time you reach for something, you'll see my mark. Feel it."

I squeeze my eyes shut, but I can't block him out.

His hands move to the back of my neck, tilting my head forward.

"Or here," he whispers, his thumb pressing against my nape.

"So the world knows. So no one will ever touch you without remembering who you belong to."

I breathe hard, my chest rising and falling in panicked gasps.

"Please," I whisper again, knowing it's useless.

He sighs, almost disappointed.

"No, kotenok." His grip tightens. "You should be thanking me."

I scream as he wrenches my legs apart, his weight pinning me down. My breath shatters as his bare hand presses against my lower stomach, just above my pelvis. Just where no one else will ever see.

The brand will be hidden.

But I will feel it forever.

The iron touches my skin.

A white-hot explosion of pain. Fire. Agony.

I convulse, my body trying to escape, but the chains hold firm. The room fills with the sickening scent of burning flesh, the air thick with my own torment.

He whispers something, but I can't hear it over my own screams.

And then, just as suddenly, it's over.

I pant, my body drenched in sweat and trembling violently. The burn still throbs, raw, permanent.

He cups my face, forcing me to look at him.

His eyes gleam with something dark. Possessive. Victorious.

"Perfect," he breathes.

And in that moment, I hate him.

Not the quiet kind of hate. Not the resentment that fades over time.

No.

This is pure, blinding, all-consuming hatred.

One day, I will make him burn.

This isn't the beginning of us, nor the end-because we were never meant to exist.

And yet, here I am. Burned with his name. Chained to a fate I never chose.

Hate me. Fight me. Run from me.

But you will never be free of me.

Darkness closes in, and this time-I don't fight it.

Author's Note:

This story is not for the faint of heart. It delves into obsession, power, and the blurred lines between love and possession. If you're looking for a fairytale romance, this isn't it. Here, darkness reigns, and the characters are bound by something deeper than desire-something raw, twisted, and inescapable.

Read at your own risk.