Chapter 1

Paige

The metallic sound of locks turning jolted me awake. I opened my eyes, and it squinted at the light bulb above.

I must have been asleep for a long while.

I stared at the stained ceiling above me, my mind still halfway trapped in sleep.

Then reality of where I was slammed into me; the unknown estate, the cursed basement, the filthy cell; a prisoner of nothing I knew about, to a monster in human form.

I pushed myself upright on the narrow bed, my heartbeat already accelerating as the metal hallway door groaned open somewhere beyond my cell.

No, please, not him; not now.

Footsteps echoed through the corridor, slow and steady.

I had learned those footsteps.

For fifteen days, I had learned every sound in this prison; the guards walked differently, the maids shuffled hurriedly.

But the monster? He walked like he owned the world beneath his feet, as if he expected every step he took to be obeyed.

I became breathless.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I had moved. I slid off the bed and backed into the farthest corner of the room, curling into myself.

Then, he appeared in front of my cell bars, cold, emotionless as usual, extremely terrifying.

As if thinking of what to do with me, he stared at me through his brown eyes, those eyes that always struck my memory.

And that was the part I hated most, because I never knew what he was thinking. I never knew what came next. It always felt like a quiet before a storm.

Finally, he turned the key into the gate and stepped in, pulling the gate closed but unlocked.

"Get up," his voice was low and flat, no flattery.

I pressed myself harder against the wall and avoided his eyes.

He didn't move.

"I said get up."

I saw the anger beginning to darken his face.

My body refused to obey. Fear had rooted me in place.

His jaw tightened.

Then suddenly, he crossed the room.

I barely had time to inhale before his hand wrapped around my throat. A strangled sound escaped me as he hauled me upward.

My feet stumbled beneath me.

"You filth," he said coldly, “Fifteen days…”

My hands clawed weakly at his wrist.

His eyes narrowed, "It took your useless father fifteen days to discover where you are."

His mouth twisted slightly, "What an irresponsible father."

Father? Well, I’m sure he meant my illegal father.

My pulse hammered.

I stared at him as I struggled for breath.

I still didn't understand. I didn't even know why I was here.

Who was he really fighting? And what exactly did he want?

I continued struggling.

His eyes searched my face once, then he released me.

I staggered backward, coughing.

"I learnt you both have a strong bond,” his voice showed no emotion, “I expected better from him…”

He looked down to my feet and back to my face, “…but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause he’s gonna break very soon."

"And when he does..." he regarded at me like I was nothing more than an object, "His daughter might already have become half herself."

“So pray,” he continued, cracking his fingers all at once, “The sooner he cooperates, the less damage you might sustain.”

Cold spread through me. I didn't understand every word. But I understood enough.

I understood danger, understood fear, understood monsters, and this man was one.

His men called him Boss.

He stepped closer, and I stepped back on instinct.

But that was a wrong move.

His expression tightened again immediately; he hated resistance. I knew that much. Yet, I always couldn’t help resisting.

The room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

I stared at somewhere on his chest because looking into his eyes would only make matter worse.

Then he grabbed my wrist and pulled out a handcuff from his pocket.

“No…no,” I whispered, shaking my head in horror, as I already knew what that meant. I hadn’t recovered from the last time, and it was just yesterday.

He cuffed my wrist, and when he reached for the second, I threw my arm behind me.

That infuriated him, because he gave me the coldest of his looks, and I suddenly regretted my action.

He gripped my jaw hard, I winced, and he pushed my head till I hit the wall.

“Your father took something precious from me,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his eyes fiery with anger, “If you know what is good for you right now, you behave. ‘Cause I won’t hesitate to take his precious from him as well.”

He released my jaw and grabbed my second wrist, cuffing it as well. Then, he flipped me round violently I almost lost balance.

He caught me immediately, held my cuffed hands over my head and pressed me to the wall.

I knew what would come next but I wasn’t ready for it, so I took a risk.

I turned round unexpectedly and kicked out, wild and desperate, my legs striking against his shin with every ounce of strength I had left.

The sound of metal clattered as the cuffs strained against my wrists. My breath came in ragged gasps, fury and terror tangled together.

His face twisted with rage, and for a terrifying heartbeat, I thought he would crush me. I thought this was the end.

“Fuck you!” the words ripped from my throat as I twisted, kicking out again, my cuffed wrists scraping against the wall.

My heel struck him again; he grunted, more in surprise than pain, and his grip tightened.

I thrashed harder, every muscle screaming. My shoulder slammed against the wall, my wrists burning as the cuffs bit into skin, yet, his grip didn’t loosen a bit.

He just watched me.

I pulled my hands, hoping to slip free of his grip.

“Stop fighting,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

But I didn’t stop. I reached up and bit his wrist. And surprisingly, he released me at once.

I froze, panting, my body trembling against the wall.

He stared at me, his jaw tight, his eyes unreadable.

The silence stretched.

For the first time in fifteen days, I felt the faintest taste of victory.

“My father will have your head,” I spat, hoping to further scare him away.

But I seemed to have crossed the line, because his countenance changed immediately and he closed the distance, gripped my hands again, swirled me round harshly and pressed me harder against the wall.

I could hear him undo his belt and then his pants.

I tried to move again, but I couldn’t.

Slowly, he leaned in, “You should have kept your goofy father out of this,” he whispered.

He lifted one of my legs onto the bed, creating a wide passageway for himself as he always had.

I closed my eyes and sucked my lips in painful anticipation.