It had been two days since I was thrown into that godforsaken room. I refused every meal brought to me, ignored every voice that came through the steel door, and curled into myself like a dying animal. I hadn't been allowed to bathe, hadn't seen daylight, hadn't heard a human voice that wasn't barking orders or threatening consequences.
My skin was so pale I could almost see through it. My lips were cracked, my body smelled of sweat. I felt like death was a shadow hovering above me, just waiting for me to stop breathing.
I'd made peace with the end. No screams, no tantrums. I would let death come quietly, with dignity.
"How're you feeling now?"
At first, I thought it was my imagination. I'd spent so much time alone that my mind had begun creating illusions. But then I felt someone standing in my front.
I raised my head slowly, my blurry vision took a second to adjust. Then I saw Sergio Lucian.
"Why have you decided to visit? To end it?"
"No….at least not yet. I am taking you back to my room to get a bath."
There was no trace of pity, no emotion. Just a decision, cold and firm.
"To get a bath?" My voice was raspy. "Then what? Bring me back here?"
He didn't answer. Typical.
"I'm not going. I don't want a bath. It's pointless."
He tilted his head and gave a slight shake. "It isn't pointless. You stink."
The words pierced my pride more than I wanted them to. I knew I wasn't clean, but hearing it from him, in that flat tone, burned like acid.
"Then get out of here," I muttered, blinking slowly. "I didn't ask for you. It's my body. I decide if I want a bath or not."
"No, girl." He squatted in front of me. "This body is mine. I decide what happens to it. You breathe when I say, you bathe when I say. Do you understand me?"
I stared at him weakly. "Fuck you."
"I don't mind." He smirked without shame.
Then he cupped my chin, his grip on my face was firm but not bruising. "You're coming with me. You'll take a proper bath. And I'll watch."
Disgust twisted in my gut. I didn't even think, I just spat on him.
The saliva hit his cheek and slowly dripped down. He didn't flinch. Just wiped it off with the back of his hand.
"You're so shameless," I hissed.
"You should have known that by now." His smile was sickening. "Your spit's already on my face. Seems fair that I get to bathe with you."
"I hate you."
"I don't like you either."
Without another word, he grabbed my arm and pulled me up with a strength that made resistance useless. I stumbled behind him as he dragged me through the hallways like a thief caught in the act. My feet were bare. The cold tiles weren't even helping matters.
We reached his room. He didn't pause. Just yanked the door open and led me straight to the bathroom.
"Strip."
The word echoed off the walls like a slap. I blinked my large watery eyes twice.
"No big deal," I said, locking eyes with him. If he wanted to see brokenness, he'd have to work harder. "Is this what you get off on? Power games?"
"Be fast about it."
"Fine then."
I pulled my clothes off slowly. Not like a victim, but like someone undressing to seduce him. His eyes didn't move. He watched me with the same cold detachment he used to watch his men beat a traitor half to death.
When I stepped into the shower, he turned away. I was surprised. He didn't leave, didn't move, but he turned his back. I don't think It was out of decency.
"Don't make me wait," he called out.
I washed quickly. I hated how the warm water revived parts of me that should've stayed numb. I hated the way my body responded to comfort. It made me remember I was still alive.
When I stepped out, I saw him taking off his shirt.
No hesitation. No shame.
"It's my turn now," he said. "You'll watch me. And you won't look away until I say so."
I narrowed my eyes. "Why? You think I want to see that?"
"I don't care what you want. I told you what to do."
My body was still trembling from exhaustion, but I didn't have the strength to argue. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the water do justice to his flawless skin full of tattoos.
He was all muscle and tension. A beast in human form. Everything about him screamed violence.
He turned his head toward me. "You're enjoying the view?"
"Not particularly."
"Then don't tempt me."
I stepped forward. Something shifted inside me. I wasn't in control, not physically, but mentally I could win. Of course I knew what I was doing.
I stood under the shower beside him. Close enough to feel the heat from his skin. I looked him over, slowly. Tiptoed and kissed him.
Just a brush of lips.
I knew I was too exhausted for these games but it was boring watching him bathe.
He pulled back slightly. "Don't play with me, little girl. You'll hate me more than you already do."
"Then stop playing yourself. What did you expect, making me watch you?"
"I'm warning you."
"And I'm done listening to warnings boss."
I turned and walked out, leaving him under the stream. When I got to his room, there was a dress laid out on the bed. Soft fabric. My size. He'd prepared it for me.
I changed quickly, my body still damp. The dress clung to me in ways that made me uncomfortable.
I didn't know what else to do. I was tired and my body ached.
He came out a few minutes later, wrapped in a towel, another one rubbing his wet hair. He glanced at me but said nothing. He pulled on his clothes in silence.
"Do you think this changes anything?" I asked.
"No."
"Then why bother?"
He didn't answer immediately. He tossed the towel aside and leaned against the dresser.
"Because the stench of your suffering was beginning to irritate me."
I bet he wasn't really good with words, every one of his words stung than it should have.
"You're a sick man."
"I never claimed to be healthy."
I stood. My legs wobbled beneath me. He caught me by the arm instinctively, holding me steady.
"Don't pretend to care."
"I don't."
"Then let go."
He didn't let go right away. His eyes met mine, and for a second, I thought I saw something in them. Guilt? Regret? or maybe just me hallucinating.
It vanished before I could name it.
"You're not dying today," he said flatly. "And if you want to survive what's coming next, you'll stop starving yourself."
"What's coming next?"
"That depends on how clever you are."
I pulled my arm away. "You're disgusting."
"And you're still breathing. Remember that."
He opened the door and gestured. "Back to your room."
I walked past him, but not out of obedience. I was biding my time. Every step I took was calculated. I wasn't the same girl who had cried herself to sleep two nights ago.
I would break him.
Not with fists or fury.
With patience.
And one day, I believe he would regret ever touching me.