Page 43 of Inside the Sun

"You wanna torture me?" I croak out. "Fine. Do it. Do your worst, you sadistic bastard. But don’t drag it out. Kill me already, because I sure as hell don’t want to breathe in the same space as you."

Anzo doesn’t even blink.

"That wouldn’t be nearly as fun," he says, flashing that empty fucking smile. "Not as fun as breaking you."

Then comes the next wave.

It rips through me like a lightning bolt, this time worse than before.

I feel my muscles seize up again, jaw clenched so tight my teeth grind.

There’s a metallic taste in my mouth. Blood. I must’ve bitten my tongue.

And then—

Darkness again.

***

When I open my eyes, I’m back in my room.

To my surprise, someone’s changed my pissed-in clothes. I’m wearing something that looks like it came straight out of a BDSM catalog: black straps, leather thigh guards that stop mid-leg, held up by garter-like clips. But my ass and crotch are exposed.

Wait, no. They’re not exposed. My dick and balls are locked in something small and metal. A fucking chastity cage.

I sit up in a panic and try to tear it off, but all I manage to do is scream in pain. There’s no way I’m squeezing this thing past my balls.

"What kind of sick fuck…" I groan, looking down at my chest. There’s a vest made of straps across it too, crossing my pecs and clipped together with tiny buckles.

"Fuck my miserable life," I mutter, instantly regretting what I said at dinner.

And I was supposed to actsubmissive! I made myself an inner promise. That was the whole plan. But of course, I mouthed offagain.

I get up, but I stagger. My head’s buzzing, and my whole body feels like I just spent the entire day at the gym. Every muscle aches.

"Fuck, am I even gonna survive this?" I mutter under my breath. But to my own surprise, there’s a strange sense of acceptance in me. I brewed this shit myself, and now I’m drinking it. And if it ends in tragedy, that’s on me.

Ironically, I don’t even blame Anzo. That’d be like walking into a lion’s den and being surprised when it bites.

So I walk to the window. It’s dark outside, except for the soft glow of elegant garden lanterns lighting up the fortress courtyard. They’re shaped like perfect orbs. The central garden is perfectly kept, designed with a level of precision that borders on obsession.

I get lost in the view for a second. I’ve always liked beautiful gardens. My dad was more practical. Everything in our yard had to be useful, not just decorative. If it didn’t grow fruit or herbs, it didn’t belong.

But me? I’ve always loved art for the sake of art. Beauty for the sake of it. I didn’t care about function, just aesthetics. Cleanlines, modern designs, unexpected textures. This garden? Yeah, someone with my taste is behind it.

So I stare at it for a while, letting my mind go blank. Because what the hell else can I do?

When I hear footsteps, I don’t even flinch.

I turn to the door. It opens, and that dog Matteo walks in.

"You’re coming with me," he mutters, his eyes dropping to my crotch for a second before darting back up.

I can tell he’s not the one who dressed me. Now I’m curious who did, as I follow him silently. No point arguing with one of Anzo’s goons.

But this time, we don’t go to the dining room.

We head downstairs, beneath ground level. Wide stairs lead us to some kind of basement. I swallow hard as we move through a dim hallway. My heart’s pounding way too fast, and I feel like I might pass out. Matteo surely hears it. He casts me a glance.

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