Trigger Warning:
This story contains content that may be distressing to some readers, including themes of abuse, violence, trauma, and non-consensual situations. Reader discretion is advised.
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Noah's POV – Age: 10–15
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Alora was a flame in this darkness. Not bright enough to burn the place down, but enough to keep me alive.
She started visiting me often. She'd sneak down with a stolen apple, or a clean cloth to wipe the grime off my face. I don't know what power she had over the guards, but they never stopped her. They'd look away, let her take me to the corner of the dungeon, where we'd sit on old crates and whisper like children hiding from ghosts.
We became family in the worst place on earth.
"I think you were my little brother in another life," she said one day, brushing knots from my hair with her fingers.
I didn't know what to say. No one ever claimed me before.
She laughed. "Or maybe in this one too. Maybe fate brought me here not for him, but for you."
"Him?" I asked.
That was the first time she told me about her lover.
She never gave his name. Only pieces. Shadows stitched into memory.
"He's... different," she said with a soft smile. "twenty two, cold, quiet. He looks at people like he sees through them. Like he already knows how they'll break."
That sounded terrifying to me.
But she smiled like it was the sun.
"He doesn't say he loves me. Not with words. But he keeps me close. Gives me orders. Protects me. And when he touches me—it's like the world stops."
I frowned. "He sounds mean."
She chuckled. "He is. But I like it."
I didn't understand love. Not the kind that sounded like chains disguised as ribbons.
Still, I liked hearing her talk. It made me feel like we were somewhere else. Somewhere better.
She never said why she was here. Just that she was "on a mission." For him.
"He trusts me," she whispered once. "I'll get the information. And then I'll be free. We'll be free."
I didn't believe in freedom. Not then.
Until the day she told me she was pregnant.
I was sooo happy I swear I will protect her baby and love him so much and...and....
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She pulled me into a hidden corner behind the water barrels, face flushed.
"I'm going to be a mother," she whispered.
My mouth dropped. "A mother?"
She nodded, eyes shining. "I took the test upstairs. It's positive. I'm two months in."
Two months. She must've conceived just before coming here.
She held my hand. "Noah… when I get out, I want to take you with me. I don't care what happens to him. I'll raise you both. We'll leave this place behind."
My heart fluttered like wings trapped in ribs. Me? With her? A home?
She wiped my cheeks. I hadn't realized I was crying.
"Don't act weak in front of anyone," she said seriously. "Not here. Not ever. If they see a crack, they'll crawl in and rip you apart. Promise me that, angle."
I nodded, clutching her hand. "I promise."
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(Noah 13)
I held onto that promise.
Even when the screaming started.
It was late, and I was hiding in the supply cupboard, trying to smuggle dry bread. Alora was supposed to meet me. But then the yelling came.
And then—the gunshot.
"Alora?" I whispered.
I peeked through the crack in the wooden door.
She was on the floor, blood soaking through her white dress. Her eyes wide with shock, mouth trying to form a word—my name, maybe.
Then the man above her sneered.
Demon Wayne.
He was the leader of the Dragon Mafia—the one everyone feared. Bald, scarred, dead eyes. A walking grave.
He stepped closer and spat near her face.
"Your lover chose the files over your life," he said coldly. "Pity. You thought he loved you. You were just a pretty hole in his plan you fell in love with a demon."
Then, to the men beside him: "Get rid of her. I want the body gone before morning."
I covered my mouth, choking down a sob.
And I passed out in the dark.
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I don't know how long I stayed there.
A day, maybe two.
When I finally crawled out, the dungeon was quiet. No blood trail. Just the smell of iron lingering in the air.
Her body was gone.
But in her room—our secret corner—I found her locket on the floor, stained in blood.
I picked it up with shaking hands.
Inside was a photo.
A men, Sharp features. Cold eyes. I knew those eyes.
I didn't know his name then.
But later, I would.
Later, I'd see him again, sitting on a throne of power, dressed in the suit of a king in an auction.
Alessio Romano.
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I found more in her room: a map, keys, papers. A detailed plan.
She'd been mapping escape routes. She was ready to run—with me.
But someone betrayed her. Someone told the Dragon Mafia.
And she died for it.
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I left that hell when I was 15 I wait take beating let them touch my skin until it was my chance,
I ran through sewer tunnels, past bones and rats and screams that echoed in the stone.
But I didn't look back.
Not once.
Not until I stood in the daylight, covered in mud and blood and hate.
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That day, I stopped being a child.
And I made a vow.
To Alora. To myself.
To never trust kindness without proof.
To never kneel again.
And most of all—
To destroy the man who let her die willingly.
Alessio Romano.
Even if I had to crawl into his bed, into his trust, into his shadow—
I would make him fall.
And then that demon Wayne.
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