Chapter 124: Chapter 124

Chapter 124

Day one of captivity.

Time no longer moved the way it was supposed to. It blurred, stretched, collapsed in on itself. Pain was the only constant.

Sienna was still tied to the chair. Her body ached everywhere, deep and relentless, every movement sending fresh agony through her muscles. Her face throbbed, swollen from repeated slaps. Bruises were already blooming across her skin, dark purples and sickly yellows layered over one another like a map of violence.

Her wrists burned. The rope had rubbed her skin raw, cutting into flesh where she had struggled again and again to free herself. Every attempt had failed.

Every attempt had only made it worse.

She was so thirsty it hurt to swallow. Her lips were cracked and dry, her throat raw and burning. Isabella had given her water once, just enough to keep her conscious. It had never been enough. It would never be enough.

Hunger existed too, but it barely registered compared to the thirst. Compared to the pain. Compared to the simple need to survive.

The door opened.

Sienna flinched before she could stop herself. Her body had learned faster than her mind. Learned fear. Learned what came next.

Isabella stepped inside, smiling.

She noticed the flinch and her smile widened. She fed on it. Drew strength from it.

“Good morning,” Isabella said brightly, as if this were a normal visit. “Did you sleep well?”

Sienna had not slept at all. How could she? Tied to a chair, terrified, hurting everywhere.

“Please,” Sienna whispered. Her voice was hoarse, barely there. “Please just let me go.”

“Let you go?” Isabella repeated, laughing softly. “But we are having so much fun.”

She moved closer, carrying a metal bucket. Ice floated inside it, water sloshing with each step.

Sienna’s eyes widened. Her body tensed, instinctively bracing itself.

Isabella lifted the bucket slowly, deliberately, savoring the terror on Sienna’s face.

Then she threw it.

The ice water hit Sienna full force. The shock was immediate and brutal, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her body convulsed violently.

The cold burned, sharp and searing, soaking through her clothes, her skin, straight into her bones. She gasped, choked, teeth chattering uncontrollably as her body began to shake.

Isabella laughed. Loudly. Freely. She watched every tremor with delight.

“Oh no,” she said with fake concern. “Did that hurt?”

Sienna could not answer. She could barely breathe. Her entire body shook as if it were trying to tear itself apart.

“You look pathetic,” Isabella said, circling her slowly. “Absolutely pathetic.”

Minutes passed. The water dripped from Sienna’s hair and clothes onto the concrete floor. The cold settled deeper, dangerous, numbing. Her body temperature dropped and fear crept in alongside it.

She wanted to move her hands to her stomach. Wanted to protect the baby. But she could not. She was trapped. Helpless.

Please be okay, she prayed silently. Please stay safe. Please stay strong.

Hours later, or maybe only minutes, Isabella returned.

This time she carried nothing. Just herself. Just her fists.

“You know what I hate most about you?” Isabella asked, pacing in front of her.

Sienna stayed silent. She had learned that speaking only made things worse.

“Your face,” Isabella snapped. “So perfect. So beautiful. Everything I am not.”

The punch came without warning. Pain exploded across Sienna’s cheek, her head snapping to the side.

Another punch followed immediately, then another. Her vision blurred. Her ears rang.

She cried out, unable to stop herself.

“Does it hurt?” Isabella mocked, her voice sweet and poisonous. “Good. I want it to hurt.”

Then Isabella struck her stomach.

Sienna screamed. A real scream, raw and filled with terror. “No. Please. Not the baby. Please.”

Isabella froze, her hand raised again. She looked at Sienna differently now. She saw it. The fear. The weakness.

“Oh,” Isabella murmured, smiling slowly. “That is where it hurts most.”

“Please,” Sienna sobbed. “Hit me anywhere else. Do anything else. Just please do not hurt my baby.”

Isabella studied her, considering. Planning.

“You really love that baby,” she said, bitterness dripping from every word.

“Yes,” Sienna whispered. “More than anything. More than my life.”

“More than Landon?”

“As much as Landon,” Sienna said. “They are my everything.”

Something twisted in Isabella’s face. Rage. Jealousy. Something close to madness.

She did not hit Sienna’s stomach again.

Instead, she hit her face. Her ribs. Her arms. Over and over.

Sienna took it. Every blow. Every wave of pain. Because her stomach was untouched. Because her baby was safe.

Blood filled her mouth. Her lip split open further. Her nose bled freely. Everything hurt.

But her baby lived.

That was enough.

Isabella finally stepped back, breathing hard. Her knuckles were bloody, her hands shaking.

“You are weak,” she said with disgust.

“Begging. Crying.”

Sienna lifted her head as best she could. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut, blood streaking down her face.

“I am a mother,” she whispered. “That is not weakness.”

Isabella slapped her again, harder than before. “Shut up.”

But Sienna saw it. Just for a moment. Something flickered in Isabella’s eyes. Recognition. Maybe fear.

Because Sienna had something Isabella never would.

Love.

The hours blurred again. More pain. More cruelty.

Isabella burned her with cigarettes she did not even smoke. Small burns across her arms, her legs, her shoulders. Each one pure agony. Each one permanent.

Sienna screamed. She cried. She begged.

But she never begged to die.

She endured. Because her baby needed her. Because Landon needed her.

Because she had to survive.

Isabella grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. A knife appeared, cold metal pressed against her skin.

“I could kill you right now,” Isabella whispered.

Sienna held her breath, heart pounding, every second stretched thin.

“But that would be too easy,” Isabella continued, pulling the knife away. “I want you to suffer.”

She left. The door slammed shut.

Sienna was alone again.

She sobbed quietly, her body shaking from pain and relief. As best she could, she looked down at her stomach.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I am so sorry you have to go through this.”

Then she felt it.

A small flutter. Faint. Almost unreal.

Her breath caught.

Tears filled her eyes, different from before. Soft. Grateful.

“You are still there,” she whispered. “You are okay.”

The baby was fighting. Just like her.

“We are going to make it,” Sienna whispered fiercely. “I do not know how, but we will.”

Outside the door, Isabella listened.

Rage burned inside her. But beneath it, something else stirred.

Fear.

Because Sienna was not breaking.

And that terrified her.