The Truth

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

The owner looked almost amused by my fear. He didn't rush to torture me. Instead, he pulled a chair and sat beside me.

"You're going to die anyway," he said lazily. "What difference does it make if I tell you?" He leaned back and grinned.

"Miss Emerson isn't Mr. Turner's adoptive sister. Their families have known each other for generations. They grew up together. The Turner family never thought you were good enough, so they made up this whole 'Loyalty Test' to force you two apart. Miss Emerson pretended to be his younger sister so she could keep an eye on you. And as for why there had to be 998 tests…"

He stood up, walked over, and patted my face. A spark of cruel satisfaction glinted in his eyes.

"She's mad that you stole her man. She wanted to watch you crawl, watch you beg with no dignity left, watch you wear yourself out for scraps. Only then would she be satisfied. You're the only thing standing between her and marrying Mr. Turner."

His gaze slithered over me as he flashed his yellowed teeth.

"You have a pretty face and an amazing body. Too bad Miss Emerson ordered us to ruin your face first. You'll die ugly. Then, we'll seal you inside the silicone and let you suffocate."

"Still…" He paused, eyes roaming over me with open lust.

Then, with one sharp motion, he sliced my shirt open. The fabric tore instantly, exposing the camisole underneath.

"It'll be a waste to let you die easily. Since you'll die tonight, why don't you let my boys take their reward first?"

At that, a bunch of burly men surrounded me. Their strong hands pressed me onto the workbench.

"Go away! Get your hands off me!"

I thrashed wildly, my nails raking across their arms hard enough to draw blood.

They didn't like that, so they slapped me countless times.

"Don't act like you don't like it! If not, why do you keep coming back?"

"Leave her be. The way she struggles only heightens the experience. Girl, will you give me a special service if I ask nicely?"

"Come back, Christopher! Help!"

I cried for help, scrambling on my hands and knees toward the door.

Their hands pressed on me again as they dragged me back onto the workbench.

Hands were everywhere. I couldn't stop shaking as despair overwhelmed me. 'Where are you, Declan?'

Just when I gave up on a miracle and attempted to bite my tongue off, someone kicked open the heavy gate from outside, and it slammed into the wall.

The light filled the basement.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, backlit by that harsh white light. My eyes filled with tears instantly.

"Declan!" I reached out instinctively, then froze the moment I recognized who it actually was.