Chapter 34

Adrik doesn’t let go.

His grip in my hair tightens as he drags me forward, my legs too weak to keep up. My body slumps against him, my head lolling, but he doesn’t slow down. He never does.

Then, suddenly—I’m lifted.

My body collides with his chest, the fabric of his suit too crisp, too clean against my filthy skin. I expect him to flinch, to grimace at the filth coating me, but he doesn’t. He just adjusts his hold, cradling me like I’m something delicate.

I hate that it feels warm.

I hate that my body leans into it.

Hate that, for a single, fractured second, it feels like safety.

He carries me out of the room without a word. The air outside is too fresh, too different, and I don’t realize how little I’ve been breathing until my lungs choke on the sudden absence of decay.

I don’t ask where he’s taking me.

I don’t resist.

I know better.

The Bathroom

The sound of running water jolts me from the haze in my head.

Adrik sets me down on the edge of a marble tub, massive and pristine. The room is bright—too bright—the stark white tiles making me feel even filthier than I already am.

He crouches before me, his eyes dragging over my ruined dress, the dried blood clinging to my skin.

He exhales, slow, measured. “You look awful.”

I say nothing.

He grabs the hem of my dress and starts pulling it up.

I jerk away on instinct, weak hands grasping at the fabric, but his grip is firm. Unyielding. His gaze snaps to mine, a silent warning flashing in the depths of his cold blue eyes.

“Don’t fight me,” he murmurs, his tone soft but lethal.

My stomach twists.

I don’t want this. I don’t want him touching me.

But resisting will only make it worse.

So I let go.

The dress peels away from my body like a second skin, stiff with grime. When it hits the floor, the weight of my vulnerability crashes into me.

I feel exposed. Small. Breakable.

Adrik, however, looks satisfied.

The water is hot when he lowers me in, a sharp contrast against my ice-cold skin. I flinch, but he keeps his hands steady, pressing me down, making sure I don’t try to climb back out.

The heat seeps into my bones, but it doesn’t erase the filth. It doesn’t erase the blood.

His fingers find my wrist, dragging a washcloth over my skin. The gesture is almost gentle. Almost normal.

But this isn’t kindness.

This is control.

He watches me the entire time, his grip firm as he scrubs away the evidence of his punishment. Scrubbing me clean, preparing me for whatever comes next.

When he’s finished, he pulls me out, wrapping me in a thick, soft towel. But there’s no warmth in his touch.

Only ownership.

I expect him to take me to his room.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he carries me down another hall, pushing open a door to a different room.

The moment I see it, my blood runs cold.

There’s a single chair in the center.

A table with something covered by a white cloth.

And chains. Lots of chains.

He sets me down, his hands resting on my shoulders as he leans in close.

His voice is a whisper against my ear, cruel and controlled.

“This,” he murmurs, “is Punishment Two.”

The door clicks shut behind us, sealing me inside.

The room is colder than the others—not from the air, but from something deeper. Something that crawls beneath my skin, settling into my bones.

Adrik doesn’t speak right away.

He just stands behind me, silent, calculating.

His fingers graze my damp hair, twisting a strand between them before letting it fall. The touch is soft—mockingly so.

Then, finally, he steps around me, placing himself between me and the only exit. His eyes are unreadable. His expression? Completely calm.

That scares me more than his anger.

He moves toward the table in the center of the room, his fingers drifting over the white cloth covering whatever waits beneath. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks.

“You were given a choice.”

I already know where this is going.

My stomach knots as he slowly lifts the cloth, revealing what lies beneath.

My breath catches.

A blade. Sleek, sharp, its polished edge glinting under the dim light. Beside it—a small wooden box, its lid slightly ajar, revealing something dark inside.

I don’t want to know what’s in it.

I don’t want to be here.

But Adrik continues like he hasn’t noticed my growing panic.

“You were supposed to kill four,” he muses, dragging his fingers along the knife’s handle. “Instead, you saved three. And in the end…” He lifts his gaze to mine, his cold smirk cutting deeper than any blade.

“They all died anyway.”

My stomach lurches. The memory slams into me like a freight train. The sound of the gunshots. The blood pooling around my feet. The way their bodies collapsed one after another, lifeless, broken.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I don’t want to see it again.

But Adrik isn’t finished.

“You wasted my time,” he says, voice smooth but laced with something sharp. “And worse—you questioned me.”

A slow exhale. He finally picks up the knife, running his thumb along the edge like he’s testing its sharpness.

“I think it’s only fair,” he continues, stepping closer, “that you learn what happens when you make the wrong choice.”

He stops in front of me, crouching down so we’re at eye level. His next words are quiet. Dangerous.

“This time, you don’t get to pick who dies.”

The breath in my lungs freezes.

Adrik lifts the wooden box, tilting it slightly.

I catch a glimpse of what’s inside—something small, writhing, covered in dark silk.

My pulse skips.

No.

No, no, no.

Before I can react, he tips the box forward—and the spiders spill out.

The Fear

I don’t scream.

I can’t.

The moment their thin, spindly legs touch my skin, my entire body locks up. Cold terror consumes me, strangling me from the inside.

They crawl over my bare legs, scuttling across my arms, trapping me in a moving nightmare.

Adrik watches.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t stop them.

He just leans back, arms crossed, his smirk widening as he studies my reaction.

“Afraid, Joy?”

My breaths come in short, ragged gasps. I can’t move. I can’t move. I can’t—

One of them crawls up my neck, its delicate legs ghosting over my collarbone. Another one disappears into my damp hair.

The room tilts. I can’t breathe.

Adrik hums, tilting his head. “You’ll stay here until I decide you’ve learned your lesson.”

I choke back a sob, my body trembling violently.

He turns toward the door. He’s leaving me like this.

Alone. With them.

He pauses in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder.

His final words are almost amused.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

Then—the door clicks shut.

The moment the door clicks shut, the panic fully takes over.

My body locks up, frozen in terror. I can feel them—the spiders, their thin, brittle legs scuttling across my skin. One crawls down my arm, another disappears into my hair, and I can’t—I can’t breathe.

I clamp my lips shut to keep from screaming. Screaming won’t help. It never does.

Adrik knows this.

That’s why he left me here. He enjoys this.

The room is dim, but my senses are too sharp, too aware. The sound of tiny legs scratching against the floor, the sensation of movement on my skin, the overwhelming weight of fear pressing on my chest.

I jerk violently, trying to shake them off, but it only makes it worse. They move faster, scattering across me, claiming me.

I can’t do this.

I can’t do this.

Not again.

Because this isn’t the first time.

This isn’t the first time Adrik has thrown me into my worst nightmare.

The Past

I was eight the first time it happened.

Back then, it wasn’t spiders. It was rats.

My stepfather had a lesson to teach me—that disobedient little girls didn’t deserve comfort. That fear was a better teacher than kindness.

He locked me in a storage room for six hours.

With them.

At first, I tried to be strong. I sat in the corner, knees pulled to my chest, eyes squeezed shut, telling myself over and over—it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.

But then I heard them.

Tiny claws against the wooden floor.

High-pitched squeaks in the dark.

The moment the first one crawled onto my leg, I broke.

And that’s when I learned—monsters don’t always look like the ones in stories.

Sometimes, they look like the people meant to love you.

Sometimes, they look like the man standing outside the door, waiting for you to scream.

The Present

The past drowns me.

My fingers dig into my skin, nails biting deep. I need to wake up. I need to wake up.

But there’s no waking up from this.

Adrik made sure of that.

The spiders move over me, crawling between my fingers, over my ankles, skittering across my throat.

I feel one slip under the towel wrapped around me, disappearing beneath the fabric.

I lose it.

A choked, broken sob rips from my throat as I thrash, but I don’t dare scream.