Chapter 62

Chapter 62
My scream tore itself from my throat as I scrambled forward, desperate to reach her. My hands shook violently as I crawled across the floor, my knees scraping hard against the wood.

"Grandma—please—" My voice cracked, breaking into sobs as I reached for her lifeless hand, still warm though her blood already cooled against the floor. I clutched her fingers, trying to shake them, begging for even the faintest twitch.

But then—pain.

Sharp and merciless.

A tight grip wrenched through my hair, yanking me backward so violently my neck nearly snapped. I screamed, clawing at the hand knotted in my hair, nails scraping against skin, but the grip only tightened. My scalp burned as he dragged me across the floor like I was nothing but a rag doll.

"NO! LET ME GO! GRANDMA!" I thrashed, my cries bouncing off the walls, breaking under the sheer terror choking me.

And then it came.

A sound like thunder.

The crack of his hand against my face.

My cheek lit up in fire, the sting immediate, swelling, brutal. The force knocked me sideways, a sharp metallic taste filling my mouth as my teeth cut into my lip. For a heartbeat the world went black, then spun, and I heard his low, venomous growl above me.

"Shut. Up."

I froze, breath choking in my throat.

His eyes bore into me, cold, merciless, daring me to scream again. And though my chest heaved with the urge, though every piece of me wanted to tear the house down with my cries, my voice died in my throat. Only broken sobs spilled out, muffled and weak.

And then—I heard another sound.

The dragging of feet. A door slamming shut.

I turned my head and felt the last of my hope shatter.

They had Eli.

Someone shoved him forward into the room, and he stumbled inside, his face beaten and swollen, his lip split, his shirt torn and stained with blood. He barely stood upright, his eyes glassy from pain but wide with fear when they landed on me.

"Joy..." he rasped, his voice broken, his chest heaving as if every breath was agony.

Seeing him like that—battered, destroyed—it made my own body tremble harder. They hadn't just come for me. They had come for everything I loved.

And Adrik... Adrik stood there, watching us both with something worse than rage in his eyes. Satisfaction.

The table crashed, wood splintering against the floor. China shattered, the sharp echo of plates and glass filling the air, and I flinched at every sound. My grandmother's vase — the one she polished every Sunday, the one she cherished like it carried her soul — fell, smashing into pieces. Its fragments scattered across the blood-stained floor like tiny corpses.

I sobbed as they shoved Eli into a chair, binding his arms with thick rope, his head lolling forward as he groaned in pain. His chest rose and fell in short, shallow breaths.

Then Adrik turned to me. His hand was deliberate, almost calm, as he forced me down into the chair opposite Eli. The rope bit into my wrists as he tied me, every knot precise, every tug cruel, until the wood pressed cold against my back.

And then, silence.

He stood between us, his figure towering, his suit spotless despite the bloodshed, his face a beautiful mask stretched over something monstrous.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, smooth, almost gentle — and that made it worse.

"You see what happens, Joy?" He crouched slightly, his eyes locking onto mine, dark and endless. "Everything you touch rots. Everyone you love bleeds."

He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear, his words deliberate, venom dripping from every syllable.

"You thought you could run. You thought you could hide in motels, beg for scraps of freedom. But you'll never escape me. You were mine the moment I laid eyes on you, and now—" he paused, glancing at Eli, a cruel smirk curving his lips, "—now he gets to pay for your sins."

He straightened, his gaze shifting between me and Eli, and with a slow, deliberate chuckle, he whispered,

"I'm going to teach you what loyalty really costs."

Adrik's eyes burned as he paced slowly in front of me, the ropes around my wrists cutting deeper with every breath I took. His presence swallowed the room, heavy, suffocating, like the walls themselves leaned in to obey him.

He stopped suddenly, his gaze fixing on me with a terrifying stillness.

"You had the audacity," he said, voice low, measured, but trembling with restrained rage, "to let someone else's hands touch you."

The words slithered into me like poison, and my heart hammered as his shadow loomed closer.

"How many times," he continued, tilting his head, eyes narrowing, "do I have to remind you that you're mine? That your skin, your breath, your very existence belongs to me?"

He leaned in until his face was inches from mine, his tone softening — but it was the softness of a predator toying with prey.

"I don't like people touching what's mine," he whispered, his voice dripping venom. "And I don't like sharing."

His hand shot forward, gripping my chin so tight I thought the bone might snap, forcing my eyes to meet his dark, soulless gaze.

"You let her touch you, Joy," he hissed, his lips curling into something between a smile and a snarl. "Do you know what that means? It means she tried to take something that belongs only to me."

He released me with a violent shove that sent the chair rocking back against the floor, and his laugh — low, bitter, cruel — filled the room like smoke.

"And for that," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to Eli, then back to me, "people will bleed."

Adrik moved with a dreadful calmness, his footsteps echoing across the broken shards of Grandma's vase scattered on the floor. He crouched before Eli, who sat bound and trembling, his lip split, his eyes swollen from the beating.

"Do you know what happens," Adrik said softly, almost tenderly, "to thieves who try to take what's mine?"

Eli shook his head frantically, muffled whimpers escaping through the rag stuffed in his mouth. His whole body fought against the ropes, but the chair creaked and held him in place.

Adrik smiled — a cold, soulless thing — and reached into his jacket. When his hand emerged, it held a gleaming knife, the blade catching the dim light and flashing like silver death. He ran his thumb along its edge, testing its sharpness, and then turned to me.

"Watch closely, Joy," he murmured. "If you dare give your attention to another again, remember this night."

He gripped Eli's left wrist, pressing it flat against the table. Eli thrashed violently, muffled screams growing frantic, but Adrik slammed his hand down with brutal force, the knife in the other hand poised high.

The first slash was deliberate, slicing deep into skin and flesh. Eli's muffled shriek rattled the walls, the sound sickening as blood poured across the wood.

But Adrik wasn't satisfied.

"No..." he whispered darkly, leaning close as Eli's body convulsed in agony. "That's not enough."

With one vicious motion, he brought the knife down again and again, until the wet, tearing sound of steel meeting bone filled the room. The chair rattled with Eli's spasms, the floor painted in crimson rivers. And then — with one last savage cut — the hand came free, dropping heavily to the floor with a dull, lifeless thud.

I screamed, my voice raw, breaking, but it only earned me a backhand across the face that snapped my head sideways and split my lip.

Adrik's eyes locked onto mine, dark and gleaming, his face splattered with blood. He licked a stray drop from his cheek as though it were nothing more than wine.

"Now," he said, his voice steady, cruel, and final, "do you understand what happens when you betray me?"

Eli was slumped forward, his body jerking with ragged sobs, sweat and blood dripping from his face. His hand — or what was left of it — hung in tatters, crimson soaking the floorboards beneath him. I could hardly breathe, my chest so tight it felt like I would choke, but Adrik wasn't finished.

"No, no..." Adrik murmured, tilting his head like he was admiring a painting. His voice was steady, almost bored. "Symmetry matters."

He grabbed Eli's other wrist and slammed it flat against the table. Eli thrashed wildly, the chair scraping against the floor, his muffled screams tearing through the gag. The knife gleamed again, and before I could even pray for it to stop, Adrik began carving into his other hand.

The sound was worse this time — slicing through flesh, scraping against bone. Eli's body shook violently, his blood spraying across the table, across Adrik's suit, across the broken porcelain pieces on the floor. His veins stood out on his neck as he screamed into the gag, the sound hollow, broken, almost inhuman.

And then, with one last brutal stroke, the second hand fell free. It hit the floor with a wet, final slap, landing beside the first. Two lifeless pieces of him lying there like discarded meat.

I cried out, a sob so raw it ripped from my chest, but before I could even blink, Adrik shoved the knife away and reached inside his jacket. He pulled out a pistol, the metal glinting under the light.

He pressed the barrel against Eli's temple.

Eli's body froze, his swollen eyes bulging with terror as tears streamed down his blood-stained cheeks. For a split second, his gaze flicked to me — desperate, pleading, broken. My heart shattered.

Adrik smiled. "No one touches what's mine."

And with a squeeze of the trigger, the sound exploded through the room. The gunshot echoed like thunder, drowning out my scream. Eli's body jolted once, then slumped forward, lifeless. Blood spilled across the table, dripping steadily, pooling beneath him.

The smell of iron filled the air, heavy, suffocating.

Adrik lowered the gun slowly, his expression void of remorse, his gaze locking onto me as though Eli's death meant nothing — as though it was only meant to remind me of what awaited if I ever defied him again.