Page 133

Her wide eyes flit wildly around the room, catching on the altar, the chains, the shadows, the men.

And then they land on me.

And freeze.

For a heartbeat, we are locked in that gaze, hers wide, glassy, desperate. Mine dull and hollow, but screaming beneath the surface. Her lips part in a silent plea, a question, a prayer. I want to look away. I can’t.

Something in me fractures.

Around us, the men return to their tasks. Candles sputter to life, their flames weak against the stale air. Their glow throws uneven halos onto the stained walls, illuminating jagged edges and peeling paint. A large, weathered book is placed on the altar, its leather cracked and brittle, its edges blackened with time.

Chains snake across the floor with a hollow metallic rattle. Ropes are tugged taut with sharp, deliberate snaps, the sound slicing through the heavy air.

The girl flinches, arms wrapping tight around herself. Her breath comes in tiny, stuttering gasps.

Then Clyde steps forward.

His boots strike the floor with slow, measured force, the sound impossibly loud. The room shifts under his presence; the others still, their attention bending toward him like gravity. He crouches before the girl, folding his tall frame until he’s eye-level.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, voice low and coaxing, but hollow, a mockery of comfort. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, little one. You’re here for a reason.”

The girl recoils, shrinking back against the wall. Her thin arms clench tighter. Her gaze flickers toward me again, brief, flickering, desperate.

And something in me begins to stir.

Clyde straightens, slow and deliberate, brushing invisible dust from his hands. He turns to me with a faint, knowing smile, his eyes gleaming beneath the flickering light.

“Lydia,” he says, his voice light but honed with steel. “You’ve been given a gift tonight. An opportunity to redeem yourself.”

The chain pulls taut as I lift my head, the metal biting harder into the tender skin of my neck. I meet his gaze, my breath scraping raw through my throat. “Let her go,” I rasp, the words grinding out like broken glass.

Clyde’s chuckle is soft, almost affectionate. He shakes his head slowly. “Always so quick to give orders,” he muses. “Always so sure of yourself.” His smile widens, but his eyes stay cold. “But tonight… you don’t have that luxury.”

He gestures toward the girl, his hand slicing lazily through the air. “This is your chance to show us you’ve learned. To prove you understand your place.”

He takes a step closer, looming above me. “Submit, Lydia, and this ends here.”

A pause.

His gaze shifts back to the girl. “Or…”

The word hangs heavy, a blade suspended mid-swing.

“…or we’ll teach her instead.”

The girl’s breath stutters in a soft, broken sob. Her thin shoulders tremble violently beneath her tattered shirt, her hands gripping the hem so tight her knuckles pale. Her wide eyes flick wildly between Clyde, the altar, and me.

A deep, primal ache blooms in my chest, sharp and hollow. My stomach twists. My wrists strain uselessly against the ropes, skin already raw and burning.

I want to tear him apart.

But all I can do is glare up at him, my jaw clenched, fire and helplessness warring beneath my skin.

“She’s weak,” one of the men sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “Soft. Barely more than a child.”

Another laughs, cruel and sharp. “It won’t take much to break her.”

A growl rips from my throat before I can stop it. I wrench hard against the chain, the links biting into my neck, rattling wildly. “You leave her alone,” I spit, my voice shaking with fury.