Chapter 177
Magnus Hale
Awareness returns in slow, heavy waves. First, the pain. A throbbing
weight travels through every muscle, every joint. My lips sting and
are cracked; my skin burns under marks that still feel fresh.
And, deep back there, in the most intimate place, a profound
discomfort, as if a red–hot iron had pierced through me.
For a moment, my mind fails. What happened? Where am I? I try to
pull a memory, but only quick, cutting flashes emerge: hands holding
me down, teeth sinking into my skin, a kiss that felt more like an
attack. I see Adrian’s face over me, his eyes feverish, and the shock
transforms into raw rage.
The urge to kill him returns like a hot blade. The hate pulses–strong,
insistent. Every fiber of my body screams for me to destroy him. But
reality pulls me back.
A calm voice, far too calm, cuts through the air, loaded with a dark
sweetness.
“Good morning, my love.”
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I blink, turning my face to the side. The world spins, blurred, and
then I see him. Adrian approaches with a tray balanced in his hands,
as if he were bringing a gift. The hate explodes inside me.
“You bastard… I’m going to kill you, Adrian!”
I force my body to sit up, but the pain is immediate, tearing from the
inside out. Every attempt is a warning: I can’t. My body betrays me—
heavy, aching. I am pinned to the mattress like a wounded animal.
Adrian stops, tilts his head slightly, and puts on an almost sad,
theatrical expression.
“This hurts so much.” His voice comes out low, heavy with a feigned
melancholy. “To be treated like this by the person I love… it’s so
cruel.”
I clench my fist tight, my nails digging into my palm. The rage is so
great that I tremble. I can’t move properly because of this son of a
bitch.
“Love, my ass!” My voice comes out raspy, failing at the end. “You
don’t love me…”
The words die in my throat when I notice the change in his face. The
calm vanishes, replaced by something darker. He places the tray
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slowly on the edge of the bed, every gesture measured and terrifying. Before I can react, his hand cuts through the air and hits me with a
sharp slap. My head spins; the sound echoes inside my skull.
Blinking doesn’t help; I’m still trying to understand when his fingers close around my neck. The grip is firm and exact, cutting off my air.
“Never.” His voice becomes hoarse, loaded with contained fury. “Never
say that I don’t love you.”
Adrian’s eyes burn inches from mine, a glint of madness that is hard
to face.
“My love for you is immense. Too immense to fit inside here.” He squeezes a bit more, his breathing accelerating. “I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it drives me insane. You have no idea what
that is like.”
His fingers slide, loosening for an instant only to tighten again, like a
snake testing its prey.
He loosens his fingers from my neck, leaving a trail of tingling on my
skin. Air returns slowly, heavy, burning inside. He caresses my cheek
as if the slap had never happened.
“Don’t force me to be cruel,” he says, his voice sounding almost
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tender. “Just love me.”
The rage inside me continues to boil, but my fragile body remains
motionless, a prisoner of his touch.
I laugh without humor–a dry sound, devoid of joy.
“You can beat me as much as you want. You can even kill me. But I
will never love you, you bastard.”
He isn’t offended. He just smiles–a small, disturbing smile–while he
continues caressing my face as if it were a fragile thing he could
mold.
“We shall see about that, my love.”
He steps back, bringing his arms behind his back like a soldier in a
resting position. The gesture is calculated, almost theatrical.
“Remember what you told me yesterday, in the cafeteria?” His tone
changes, turning colder. “You want distance from me? Defeat me.‘
The rage pulses stronger as I realize what he’s insinuating. His smile
grows–slow, poisonous.
“And it seems I won. So, everything in this prison belongs to me now.”
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I ignore the pain screaming inside my body and struggle to sit up.
Every movement is torture, but I will not give in. My body begs for
rest, but my mind screams for revenge.
“Don’t you dare mess with my empire, you prick.”
He sighs, shaking his head like someone scolding a child.
“Does my love only know how to curse? That’s naughty.”
A snarl escapes my throat–dry, irritated.
“I’ve already messed with your empire, love.” He speaks softly, but
every word is a blade. “Everyone has already seen you defeated in my
arms.”
I freeze. Fear seeps into my chest, cold.
“W–what did you do?”
That macabre smile returns, cutting across his face like a mask.
“While you were sleeping beautifully, I brought you to my cell. I
carried you in my arms in front of the whole prison. Everyone saw
your marked body, the bite marks, and the bruises on your beautiful
face. Everyone knows that I defeated you.”
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I shake my head, my breathing short.
“No… it can’t be real.”
He laughs softly, with a pleasure that makes my stomach turn.
“It is real, my love. Just look around.”
I do. My eyes sweep the space, and the shock is immediate. I am no
longer in my cell. The sight dismantles me: dark silk sheets on the
bed, a firm and wide mattress, a functional shower, toilet, sink, and
shelves filled with organized items.
Everything a prisoner would never dream of.
My eyes widen. It is luxury and comfort, but I feel it like a golden
cage.
“I think I should explain how things are going to work, my love.” His
voice pulls me from my thoughts.
He begins to walk around the cell, his strides slow, almost elegant.
“Inside here, freedom does not exist.” Each word is a sentence. “There
is no ‘I don’t want to‘ or ‘I won’t.‘ There is only one rule: mine.”
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I stall as I realize he is spitting back my own rules–the ones I
created. His smile widens, triumphant.
“If you need anything, ask me. Only me. Opening your mouth to
another will be cause for regret.”
I bite my cracked lips, ignoring the pain. This bastard is using my own
weapons against me..
“Second rule: do not look at anyone without my permission. One
wrong look can cost a life here.”
He stops in front of me, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
‘Third rule: never defy me. Raising your voice, contradicting me, or
trying to deceive me… means death. Simple.‘
I remain silent, my rage boiling, my chest heaving with hatred.
‘Fourth rule: when I speak, you listen. When I command, you obey.
Negotiation does not exist.‘
He stops right in front of me, his body leaning toward mine, his smile
slow and cruel.
