I woke up with a violent gasp, choking on the air as if I had been drowning. My entire body trembled, cold and soaked. My vision blurred for a moment before sharpening, and the first thing I saw was Adrik—standing over me, an empty bucket in his hand, his expression unreadable.

The metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air, mixing with the dampness clinging to my skin. My heart pounded, my breaths uneven, as I quickly took in my surroundings. A single, flickering bulb dangled loosely from the ceiling, casting long, eerie shadows against the cracked concrete walls.

"You fainted," Adrik said flatly, his voice calm—too calm.

Panic surged through me as realization hit. I knew this place. The same room where he chopped up Mark's body. The memory slammed into me like a sledgehammer, sending violent shivers down my spine. My stomach churned, and I dared to look down.

My legs were tied to the chair. Tight. Unforgiving. But my hands... my hands were free. My pulse quickened. A mistake? A test? My fingers twitched, but I didn't move—not yet.

Then, I saw it.

The table.

Blood pooled beneath it, fresh and glistening under the dim light. And on it, just like before, lay a lifeless, headless body. But this time, it wasn't Mark. It was the maid. The same one who had struck me.

My breath caught in my throat. Her body was motionless, arms splayed unnaturally, her severed neck jagged, as though hacked at rather than cleanly cut. I couldn't scream. The terror lodged itself deep inside me, suffocating.

But what made my blood run ice-cold was the kneeling figures beside the table.

All the maids. The ones who had been there when I was hit. Their faces were streaked with tears, their bodies trembling violently as they sobbed, heads bowed, hands pressed together in desperate prayer or pleading—maybe both.

Adrik's footsteps echoed as he stepped closer, his presence suffocating. I felt him watching me, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed my face.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, voice quiet, almost gentle. And that terrified me more than if he had been yelling.

The bulb above us flickered again. In that brief moment of darkness, the silence became deafening. And when the light returned, so did the horror.

He turned to the maids, his voice sharp as a blade. "Speak again while I'm talking to my wife, and I'll silence you myself."

The room fell into an eerie, suffocating silence. The maids froze, their sobs cut off like a knife to the throat. Even their trembling seemed to still as if fear itself had stolen the air from their lungs.

Adrik's gaze drifted back to me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and cupped my face—his touch was gentle, almost tender. A stark contrast to the blood, the violence, the horror surrounding us. But that only made it worse.

The warmth of his palm against my skin made me shudder, not from comfort but from sheer, paralyzing fear. I didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe. His thumb brushed over my cheek, almost affectionately.

And that scared me more than anything else.

His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles against my cheek, his touch deceptively soft. But his eyes—cold, unreadable, dangerous—told an entirely different story.

"You scared me for a moment there," he murmured, almost as if he was speaking to himself. His fingers slid down, brushing my jaw, then my throat, lingering just long enough to make my pulse spike. He could crush my windpipe in seconds if he wanted to.

I swallowed hard, my body tense, every nerve on edge. I wanted to recoil, to flinch away from his touch, but I knew better. Any sudden movement could shift the delicate balance between life and whatever nightmare came next.

Behind him, the maids remained kneeling, their heads bowed so low they nearly touched the bloodstained floor. They were still. Too still. Not one dared to look up, not even to breathe too loudly.

The silence stretched, suffocating.

Then, without warning, Adrik's fingers tightened around my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

Adrik's grip on my chin tightened, his fingers pressing just enough to make it clear—I wasn't going anywhere. His eyes bore into mine, dark and unyielding, swallowing every flicker of emotion I tried to hide.

"I rule the mafia, Joy," he murmured, his voice dangerously smooth. "And you? You are my queen." His thumb dragged over my lower lip, slow, possessive. "A queen does not let others lay a finger on her... and then simply let it go."

His words slithered into my mind like poison, each syllable laced with something heavy, something lethal.

"You have to learn."

I couldn't breathe.

His free hand trailed lower, resting on my throat—not squeezing, not yet. Just a silent warning. His warmth seared against my skin, a sickening contrast to the cold terror twisting inside me.

"And one more thing," he continued, his grip never loosening. "Don't you ever lie to me again."

The flickering bulb overhead buzzed, casting erratic shadows along the walls. The lifeless maid's body lay behind him, her blood still fresh, still glistening. The kneeling maids, silent and frozen in fear, barely even dared to shiver.

Adrik tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smile—something colder, crueler.

"I'll give you two minutes." His voice dropped lower, quieter. Deadly.

"Two minutes to tell me anything you're hiding from me. Because if you don't..." He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "I'll rip it out of you myself."

A violent shudder ran through me. Fear, unlike anything I had ever felt before, took hold of my body, sinking deep into my bones.

He wasn't bluffing.

He never bluffed.

Does he know about the pills?

The thought slammed into me, my mind racing, scrambling for a way out. But there was no escape. Not here. Not with him. My pulse pounded so violently I swore he could hear it.

It wasn't just about coming clean. It was about the consequences.

Adrik was watching me, his gaze sharp, dissecting every flicker of hesitation on my face. He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to make me bleed for it.

"So?" His voice was patient, but it was the kind of patience that could snap at any moment. "Is there anything you'd like to say?"

I swallowed hard. "No... Please... Please, there's nothing. I haven't kept anything." The lie burned as it left my lips, but survival made me say it.

For a moment, he just stared. The silence stretched so thin it felt like the room itself was suffocating. Then, finally, he spoke.

"Okay. Your words."

It wasn't reassurance. It was a death sentence waiting to be carried out.

Then, as if what had just passed between us was nothing more than casual conversation, he straightened, his expression unreadable. And the next words that left his mouth made my stomach drop.

"That aside, you're my wife. Which means you're going to cut that body into pieces."

I sucked in a sharp breath. No. No, no, no.

The bloodied corpse of the maid lay sprawled on the table, her head severed, her limbs still intact—for now. I tried to move, but my body was frozen, trapped in the sheer horror of what he had just said.

Adrik stepped closer, his fingers grazing my jaw, tilting my chin up so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. There was no mercy there.

"But that's not all," he murmured, voice almost soft. Too soft.

"There are seven maids here in total."

I blinked, confusion momentarily cutting through the fear.

"You get to save three," he continued, his lips curving into something that almost looked like a smile. Almost.

"And kill the other four."

My blood turned to ice.

"So... pick." 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓟𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓸𝓷. Link in my bio

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