Chapter 196
Magnus Hale
He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back, and lets out a long
sigh.
“Take a shower and go to bed. No hot water. Don’t force me to tear
those beautiful buttocks of yours even more.”
His hand grips my chin firmly, forcing me to face him.
“I’m not kidding, Magnus. Either you apologize to me for your insolence, or you will live worse than any prisoner in here. Think long
and hard about that.” His tone is dark and serious, cutting, to the point that it chills me to the bone.
He lets go of my chin and steps away, leaving the cell and locking it behind him. The sound of iron echoes, leaving me alone.
The pain in my buttocks throbs, almost pulsing. I stagger to the shower, turn the handle, and let the cold water fall. When it hits my body, especially my backside, the pain stings and burns.
I take a slow shower, scrubbing every inch with care. It’s humiliating
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to admit, but I acted out of rage. I never imagined he would put me over his knees and hit me like a grandmother disciplining a grandson.
I am tired.
I already realize that nothing will help: I have no more power, and I
have no one left to turn to.
Adrian is too strong. If he wanted to, he could kill me, but he prefers to keep me trapped just for himself, like a trophy.
What the fuck am I doing?
The urge to cry is immense. And, in part, he is right: I am tasting the poison I’ve always served. When no one obeyed me, I killed, I tortured, and I forced. I always wanted everyone to obey me. Now I am the one feeling the weight of the consequences.
I finish my shower and dry myself slowly. I walk to the bed, ignoring the uniform thrown on the floor; I don’t want to wear it; my bruised skin wouldn’t bear it. I lie face down, feeling the burning of what
happened.
I let out a long sigh.
What should I really do?
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Submit to him?
Is that it?
Deep down, I know that sooner or later, I’m going to have to give up. You can see he’s not going to leave me alone. We’ll be trapped in this cycle for a long time, and I’ll just keep getting beaten every time I try
to challenge him.
no
I promised myself I would never yield, that I would never submit. But
looking at the situation I’m in, I see there is no way to win. No one is on my side. I’ll only get frustrated and suffer even more.
Should I accept this sickly love of his?
These chains of obsession that bind me?
I let out a long sigh, exhausted from thinking.
If I cry, do I stop being a man?
I give a weak, bitter laugh.
I look like an idiot with fragile masculinity.
No, I am a man with fucking fragile masculinity.
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I bury my face in the pillow, frustrated with everything. Before, I was
convinced I could kill him; he just had to lower his guard, and it
would all be over. I gave everything I had in that punch in the
cafeteria; I used every drop of strength I have, and even then, it
seemed to have no effect.
A single blow from him made me see stars and folded me as if I were
too fragile. So who is the weak one here? Me, who fought, who hit,
and who survived, or him, who dismantles me with a single move?
Maybe what he says is true: that he knows human anatomy, that he
knows exactly where to hit to make someone weak.
I turn my head and stare at the cell. After everything, I don’t have the
strength to fight back. What if I, for a moment, accept this sickly
love? Would all this shit feel lighter if I allowed myself to like him?
But I know that, for him, I would always be the passive one. Just
remembering it makes me let out an irritated snarl.
“Fine… that shit was good,” I admit, frustrated, in a low voice.
I’m losing it. These memories spin in my head non–stop. Yes, I’ll admit it: it was good, even if it was humiliating and tortuous. But the position he put me in… that burns me. I feel belittled and broken, as if accepting always means being on the fragile side.
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I close my eyes tight, trying to quiet the turmoil. I don’t know what to do anymore. Before all this crap exploded, the rage I have for Adrian was, and still is, immense. I promised myself I would never submit,
that I would never accept him.
My heart is stone; even if the flesh betrays me, it will not yield. Adrian will always be my rival. That’s what I swore to myself… and yet, now I am here, cursed for thinking of the possibility of accepting
him.
“What a mess,” I huff, clenching my teeth.
I fall silent, sunk in my thoughts.
“Fine, fuck it. Enough. I’m going to accept this disaster.” The sentence explodes from my throat, a mix of rage and surrender. “It can’t be that bad to be loved in such a twisted way.”
I poison myself with the words. That’s it: I’m yielding. I already regret just thinking about it, and at the same time, I calculate every move like someone choosing the best weapon.
If he crosses any line without my consent, I swear I will kill him, even
if it destroys me in the process.
