"Your fingers... pretty things."
The words scraped out of his mouth like gravel dragged across broken glass. Rough. Dry. Too damn raw to be a compliment. And "pretty"? No warmth in it. Just the cold assessment of a man deciding what to keep and what to cut.
His hand, still holding that bloodstained axe like it was just another tool in the shed, didn't move. But the other one did.
It hovered.
Then touched.
A single fingertip grazing the back of her hand... then trailing down, slow, calculated, until it reached where her fingers. It wasn't tender. Not even close. It was precise. Mechanical. Like he was tracing the outline of merchandise. Not skin.
Eris wanted to yank her hand away. Every cell screamed it. But the ropes locked her in place.
Not that it would've mattered.
Something inside her had already gone still. Not numb. Not yet. Just, frozen.
Fear? Rage? Yeah. Both. Probably more.
He didn't even look at her as he spoke again, this time barking in rough, clipped Spanish, "¿Cuánto cuesta una perra como ésta si la vendemos entera?"
Not curiosity. Not a real question. It was a warning, loaded like a bullet, aimed at the two idiots standing nearby.
The long-haired one went stiff. His grin vanished like someone hit delete. The quiet one swallowed hard and tried to play brave.
"C-could be a lot. If she's still a virgin. Especially… pale. Like her."
Eris's stomach lurched. The taste of metal rose in her throat, thick and sharp. But she didn't look away.
She looked right at the bastard. With everything she had left. And he… That son of a bitch smiled.
Not the kind that said gotcha, or even I win.
No, this was thinner. Meaner. Like a razor sliding across a throat. "Podría cortarle un dedo y aún así valdría más que tus madres."
That finger of his kept moving.
Index. Middle. Ring. Like he was deciding which one to take first. His skin was cold. Not death cold. Just... indifferent.
He wasn't doing this to feel power. He wasn't getting off on the control. There was no thrill. No sadism.
Only emptiness.
His eyes met hers again, and for a second… She saw it. That flicker. Gray.
But where Darian's gaze burned like ice with a purpose behind it… This man's eyes were void.
No code. No boundary. No soul. Not a killer. Not even a monster. Just a goddamn black hole.
And now, that black hole was pricing her body. Not metaphorically. Not for shock value. This was a deal. A number. A fucking market.
The axe dropped. Not to swing. Just to press. Right against her index finger.
Slow. Steady.
Heavy.
"You think," he murmured, low and even, like a man sharing a secret, "your screaming will save you?"
Eris didn't flinch.
She sucked in a breath through her nose. Flashed a crooked smile, sharp, fake, angry. Her eyes blazed.
"Honestly?" she said, voice sweet as poison. "I think you're better off whoring yourself out than pretending you run shit."
The axe didn't move. The pressure just deepened, like it was thinking.
And he grinned.
Wide now. Like she'd just poured gasoline on the floor. And Eris knew… She'd just lit a match.
And this kind of fire? Didn't go out with water.
He didn't stop. Not a bluff. Not a warning.
Real.
The edge of the axe, cold, sticky from old blood, landed right over the first joint of her index finger.
…Pressure.
Not sudden. Not savage. But slow.
Excruciatingly slow.
One of his hands gripped her finger, stretched it taut. Forced. His fingers were massive. Calloused. Scars split across his knuckles like cracked pavement, history etched in tissue.
And when the blade began to cut…
Craaack.
Not bone. Not yet. Skin. Then flesh. The top layer split. Pain didn't flash. It spread.
Heat. Then cold. Searing agony that pulsed like someone stabbing the back of her brain from the inside.
Eris bit her tongue. Hard. Her mouth filled with iron. She didn't make a sound. Wouldn't. She wouldn't give him that.
The first drop of blood hit the metal.
Tik.
Then again.
Tik.
"…Hhh…!" Breath caught in her throat.
But he stayed calm.
Expression neutral, like he was peeling a goddamn fruit. His grip didn't tighten. Didn't shake. The blade dug deeper.
Blood slid down her wrist. The steel table collected it, cold, clinical, indifferent.
Her body shook.
Not fear.
Something worse.
Her brain locked in her skull, flailing for escape, but not from pain. From everything.
From the flickering neon bulb in the corner, right side. From the smell, bleach gone sour, and the sharp rot of old blood. From the rust bite in the edge of the table. From the loose blue thread on the long-haired bastard's shirt. Three seconds 'til I pass out, if my heart doesn't stop first.
She wanted to run. To spit something, anything. But her mind went quiet.
One thing left: Don't let him see you break. Don't. Don't. Don't.
More blood now. It pooled at her elbow, hot. The axe didn't move past bone. He was deliberate. He knew.
He knew where to stop. Where to hurt, not destroy.
Her whole arm trembled. Her skull buzzed like someone cranked a wire brush inside it. The sounds… too loud.
Drip.
Buzz.
His breathing… too close.
Tring.
Not a ringtone. Just the harsh vibration of a phone on steel. But it cut the air like a gunshot.
He paused.
Eyes flicked sideways to the screen. Still seated. Still composed. The axe? Still pressed against her ruined finger. Skin open. Wet.
One eyebrow ticked up. On the screen: Kid.
A name? A code? An heir?
She didn't know. Didn't care. But something shifted, barely. Enough to make her lungs seize.
He didn't like being interrupted. If it was nothing, he would've ignored it. He didn't.
He pulled the axe back. Slowly.
The blade took blood with it, sticky, red, unforgiving. It trailed down in long threads before hitting the floor with a splat.
Metal on metal. That screech was another kind of scream.
Eris gasped. Loud. Couldn't help it. Pain, yes. But also, release.
Her fingers twitched. Reflex. Her whole arm burned from fingertip to shoulder, every nerve screaming. But she was still breathing.
For now.
For now.
Blood kept dripping.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
A metronome from hell. Like a countdown… Except she didn't know how many seconds were left.
The axe wasn't touching her anymore. But the wound…
Open.
Split wide. Raw. Her finger wouldn't move. Frozen. But pulsing. Not a heartbeat. No… A jolt. A live wire hooked to her nerves.
The skin had torn from the base. Meat exposed. Dark pink. Wet. Something white lodged in the mess… Bone? Or…
Don't look.
But she looked.
Her hand didn't look like hers. Wrong color. Wrong texture. Alien. Dead. Her mouth opened. But her voice… Gone.
Dead too.
"Breathe, Eris. In. Out. It's just pain. Just pain."
But the air came in short gasps. Shallow. It didn't reach her lungs. Didn't help. Her breath sounded like shattered glass.
Krkk.
She tried grounding herself… Tried. But her finger kept pulsing. And now the pain spread. Palm. Wrist. Skull.
A smart kind of pain. Sadistic. The kind that knew exactly how to break a person without letting them pass out.
Let her feel everything.
Tick.
More blood.
She'd lost count. Her hand shook. She hated this. Hated not being able to run. Hated that he… That bastard, was torturing her while answering a fucking phone call.
She caught a voice from the phone. Male. British. Sharp like broken glass.
But Eris's world had narrowed.
Down to: The drip of blood. The stink of rust. The throb of ruined nerves. The cold sweat on her spine.
She wanted to vomit. She wanted to stab him. Until he bled from his eyes.
Two halves of her mind fought: One whispered, "Just give up. You're not getting out alive." The other hissed, "If you pass out, you'll wake up without fingers. Or eyes. Or a tongue."
There was only one choice: Don't pass out. "Focus. Focus, goddamn it. You can do this."
But how? Her finger… Her finger was ripped open. Literally.
The taste of metal flooded her tongue. Maybe she bit too hard. Maybe blood was rising in her throat.
Her vision blurred. Not from tears.
No.
From blood pressure. The edges of her sight went dark. The phone call, muffled, like it came from underwater.
She knew this feeling. She knew what came next. "If you black out… you lose." So she bit her tongue. Hard. Hard enough to make sure the pain stayed. Real. Anchoring.
Because she wasn't a victim. She wasn't a victim. But she wasn't a predator either. Not right now. She was just meat.
In a room that reeked of blood. With a finger sliced halfway to hell. And she had to survive. Because if she passed out now…
The next thing he cut might not be just a finger.
From behind the fog of pain… She heard a voice. His voice.
That brutal accent, usually laced with threats… Now it was… Casual. Eris didn't register it right away. Her brain floated. Detached. Blood still dripped from her finger.
Still.
Still.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
But the man… He was talking. Not shouting. Not threatening. Talking. There was a laugh. Soft. Disbelieving. Almost gentle.
He was laughing? The axe-wielding bastard could smile? Didn't make sense.
It… It didn't compute. Eris almost laughed herself. But her tongue was numb. Mouth full of metal.
Maybe it was his son. His lover. Someone who… Was he… human? But the laugh died quickly.
One second later… A rough exhale. Sharp. Forced. The tone at the edge of his words twisted. The line of his jaw clenched. His neck tensed.
And then… His eyes. Turned back to her. Colder. Worse than before.
Deadly.
Still listening to the voice on the phone. His long fingers moved. Swept toward the desk.
Her bag.
Her bag.
When… When did that get there?!
Zipped. Almost closed. But not all the way. He opened it. Fast. Precise. Eris couldn't move. Her skin crawled.
He pulled something out.
A card.
Vanguard employee badge. Her photo. Her name. The logo… Elegant silver embossing.
He stared at it. One second. Two. Three. Like he was confirming something. Like he was counting sins.
Then he dropped it. A soft plastic slap against metal flooring.
Tchkk.
The echo was tiny. But to Eris… It sounded like a gunshot.
He wiped his face. Twice. His left hand… Smeared with her blood, left a red print down his own cheek.
His face… Wrecked. Frustration. Phone click.
Beep.
A violent toss onto the desk.
Thud.
Footsteps. Heavy. Fast. Coming. For her. He spoke. "You little shit." Not a scream. But sharp.
And worse… Personal. Like all of this, was her fault. Like that shredded finger, was her mistake. Eris didn't answer. Couldn't.
Her lips, split. Her tongue, numb. Her eyes, just followed him. Slow. Broken. Like a cracked lens.
In her head… "You're the one who hurt me. You're the one who cut me. You started this. And now you're blaming me?"
She wanted to laugh. But her breath… was fractured. And her finger… Still throbbed. Still torn.
Still.
He was still standing there. Staring at her. Silent. But not empty silence. No. It scraped. Peeled. Skinned her raw.
That silence knew things. Too much. Eris held her breath. Or forgot how.
Her eyes hadn't blurred yet, but… The corners of her vision began to darken. Heartbeat rising. Louder.
Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.
He spoke. "That can be stitched." A blink. That? My finger, you sick fuck?!
Blood still leaked. Steady. From the gaping slice on her index. Torn skin. Opened flesh. She could see the veins. Tendons. A yellowish-red sheen of fat oozed slow. Thick.
A shard of white… Bone. Exposed. She was still alive. Still feeling it.
Still. But… Her legs faltered. Breathing thickened. Like choking on oil. Heavy. Bitter.
Her eyes… Blurring. Too much. No. No no no…
Her head spun. She reached for the chair. Tried to. But her fingers… Dead. Numb. No grip.
Fuck.
Something. On her skin. Her pulse point… A scratch. Tiny. Too late.
He… Still standing close. Calm. Still. Like carved stone. But his left hand… The one soaked in her blood…
Held something. Small. Glass. Cylindrical. A drop of clear liquid still clung to the tip. Needle.
Since when?!
Eris didn't see it. Didn't notice. Too busy bleeding. Her mouth opened. To ask. To scream. To curse… Nothing came out.
Breath… Short. Chopped. The world tilted. Ceiling became floor.
The injection… What was it? Anesthetic? Poison? Hallucinogen? Sedative? Tracker? Tag?
Her brain spun. Too fast. Then. Stopped. The last sound she heard? Not his voice. Not blood hitting the ground. Not her heart pounding.
But… A sound from deep inside herself. Small. Broken. I don't want to die… not like this…
And then everything turned black.