Page 112 of Cruel Deception
I let out a broken sob.
“I’ll fuck the rebellion out of you. And then I’ll fuck the loyalty back in.”
I broke.
Not from the pain. Not from the roughness.
From the emptiness.
From the absence of love in every move he made.
I’m not just his prisoner; I’m his creation, shaped by his will, and the unanswered question of my mother’s fate binding me to him.
He finished with a guttural sound. Then silence. Nothing but the sound of my breathing—shaky, uneven—filling the dark.
He pulls away, leaving me trembling, chained, my body spent but my mind in pieces. “You’ll stay like this,” he says, his voice cold, standing, his silhouette towering in the dark. “Chained, broken, until you learn your place.”
He doesn’t touch me again, his punishment complete without a single strike, his power in the way he’s claimed my body, my will.
He stood over me, not speaking. Just watching.
“This is who you are now,” he said. “A slave in chains. A body I use. A lesson your mother should’ve learned before she made mine crawl in chains in her husband’s house.”
Then he turned and walked out—leaving me on the cold floor, naked, raw, chained.
Alone.
I fold into myself, the shackles heavy around my ankles, my tears soaking the sheets.
“Flat as a boy. Scarred like a battlefield.”
His words echo, brutal and exact.
Each syllable cuts deep—straight through the shame I’ve hidden beneath padded bras and forced silence.
I sob, breath ragged, face swollen, heart screaming that I’ve lost myself to him.
His words echo like a curse: “She made mine walk in chains in her husband’s house.”
A riddle. A wound. A truth I don’t remember—but feel in my bones.
If it’s true—if my mother hurt his family like this—then this isn’t punishment.
It’s retribution.
I am his subject. His property.
She was always with my father—then gone.
Maybe sold. Maybe worse.
How could she have crossed Cassian’s family?
The screams I heard in the cell—“Free me”—echo in my mind.
Was it her?
Yet, under the wreckage of shame and fear, something dangerous flickers:
