NOVA POV
"You know if I die, it won’t solve whatever it is you need answers to."
I forced those weak words out with what little strength I had left, but as expected, he didn’t answer .
If not for the way he replied to soone else in the shadows, I could’ve sworn he was deaf but apparently, he just had selective hearing. Yeah, that’s a thing.
The sa voice in the darkness said sothing, and my torntor — as I’ve co to call the bastard — replied in the sa language.
For the first ti in my life, I regretted skipping Russian class just to binge erotica and Manga.
If only I’d learned a few words, maybe I could decode what they were saying. Maybe I’d know when the next wave of pain was coming.
My body was failing , I felt weak, heavy and I was trembling. It had been hours since I sent the voice note. He’d stopped beating , but parts of my body were still bleeding. My lips were cracked, my stomach empty, my throat dry enough to burn but the plot twist, he didn’t care.
Not the tiniest bit.
"Please just let go," I whispered, voice trembling into the darkness. "I’ll give you anything you want."
I didn’t even believe what I said. What did I have to offer? A stack of manga and a library full of smut? Pathetic.
He raised an eyebrow at , that cold, mocking kind of look that said really? without a word.
I took a few shallow breaths to steady myself, to stop from screaming. The last ti I scread, he’d made sure I regretted it.
He dragged sothing closer, it was tal scraping against concrete and light caught it. It looked like dical equipnt.
The ropes around my chest cut into my skin, tight enough that I could barely breathe. I was half-naked, bruised, and yet not once did his eyes hold any trace of lust. Only purpose.
He picked up what looked like a scalpel.
Wait.
"Wait—wait—please don’t kill . Don’t cut up. Don’t harvest my organs. If it’s money you want, I know soone who’ll pay—please—"
The words broke apart into shuddering sobs. My voice splintered as I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t believe this was how I’d die, tied up, bleeding, carved open by a man who didn’t even care enough to kill first.
Then I felt a prick on my left hand.
Oh God. Oh God.
Is he cutting my hand off first?
Is this so twisted fetish?
The tears stread harder. This ti I didn’t try to hold them in. I cried like a child until everything inside went quiet; then still.
Was I dead?
Was this what the afterlife felt like?
I opened my eyes slowly, expecting light but instead I saw an IV bag hanging over , a thin tube running into my vein.
Relief hit like a wave. My body still hurt, but for the first ti, it wasn’t dying. I was crying, but at least I was breathing.
"After this, you will resu your whipping session."
My heart plumted to my stomach.
"You’re treating ... so I’ll have strength for more torture?" My voice shook as I asked.
"Yes." His tone was flat, like he was confirming the weather. He didn’t even glance at , just adjusted the IV stand, his face unreadable.
"You’re a sick psycho," I spat, my voice cracking but my defiance burning.
"Yes," he answered without hesitation.
"It’s not a fucking question, what the—"
The blade at my throat silenced . Cold against my flesh and sharp, it was too damn close.
"If I decide to kill you now, nothing will happen," he said matter-of-factly.
He wasn’t wrong. I nodded, tears blurring my vision, my body shaking as fear clawed up my chest.
"Please... I promise... I’ll be silent," I whispered, my words breaking apart like glass. I didn’t care how pathetic I sounded. I just didn’t want to die today.
"It won’t stop anything," he said, his voice a low rumble that chilled the air. "But if it comforts you, I’ll let you breathe for a few more days."
He smiled slowly and deliberately but it felt wrong. The kind of smile that makes the hair on your arms rise.
He pulled the knife from my neck and twirled it in his fingers, tracing the blade against his palm like it was jewelry he was testing.
"I’d love to see the look on their faces when they realize they’ve been fooled," he said with a laugh that echoed off the walls. "Then I’ll put this knife through your stomach until your intestines decorate the floor right in front of them. Then I’ll butcher you into pieces — just like they did to ."
My blood ran cold.
What did he an they butchered him?
His body was whole. His eyes were alive with hate, not pain.
Before I could ask, his attention shifted toward the shadows.
"ssage the boys. Give them the go-ahead to kill Vitellio’s fiancée."
My eyes widened.
No. No, no. I didn’t even like Luca’s fiancée but I didn’t want her dead. Not because of . Not because of this sick ga.
"Please—please," I begged, the words bursting out of .
"Then drop an anonymous ssage to Vitellio," he said, voice almost casual. "Tell him Calloway killed his fiancée."
My mind went blank. The world tilted. My breath hitched and everything turned white around the edges.
"Psycho," I whispered, trembling. "You’re a psycho, you’re—"
The slap ca before the pain. The sound cracked through the air, then fire exploded across my cheek, sharp and searing. My vision went black at the edges, but I forced myself not to fall.
"Let’s watch them burn," he said, his voice low and thrilled. "Before I decide which tool to butcher this one with."
He crouched close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. The knife traced a slow, deliberate line down my collarbone.
"Knife..." he murmured, pausing, eyes fixed on .
"Or machete?"
This ti, I didn’t answer. My tears fell freely, soaking my bound wrists. My throat closed around a sob I couldn’t swallow.
And he smiled. A wide grin.
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