Chapter 77

Chapter 77
Heizel POV

Darius circled me slowly.

Not pacing—circling. Like he had all the time in the world. Like my fear was something he wanted to savor, not rush. Each step echoed softly against the concrete floor, measured and deliberate, and with every pass my pulse kicked harder against my ribs.

I didn’t look at him.

The ropes bit into my wrists, cutting circulation, fire spreading down my arms. My shoulders screamed in protest where they were pulled too far back, my muscles trembling from strain and exhaustion. Pain throbbed everywhere, but I locked my jaw and swallowed it down.

I would not give him the satisfaction.

“What should we do next, my angel?” he asked lightly, as if we were discussing dinner plans. “Break your fingers?” He tilted his head, considering. “Or maybe something more… entertaining for the boys?”

He gestured lazily toward the shadows.

They stepped forward just enough for me to see them clearly—faces half-lit, eyes sharp and hungry, mouths already curved in anticipation. The air shifted. Thickened. My stomach rolled violently.

I turned my head away.

Silence was the only thing I had left.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Darius crooned, irritation threading through his voice. “A little cooperation goes a very long way.”

I forced myself to breathe slowly, carefully, even as my ribs protested with every inhale. The ropes scraped raw skin when I shifted, reminding me exactly how trapped I was.

“Look at them,” he said, voice almost fond. “They’ve been patient. Loyal. They deserve a reward.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“We could make a deal. No cameras. No pain. Just… compliance.”

The word crawled over my skin.

Nausea surged, hot and sharp. I tasted bile. Every instinct in me screamed, clawed, begged—but beneath it all, something colder settled into place.

Defiance.

“Go to hell,” I spat.

The words came out rough, cracked—but they were mine.

The room went very still.

Darius moved fast.

His hand snapped around my chin, fingers digging into bruised skin, forcing my face up until my eyes met his. His were no longer amused.

“You should be nicer, little angel,” he hissed. “You really don’t want to see what happens when I lose my temper.”

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second—enough to promise what he could do—then he shoved my face away like I disgusted him.

I lifted my head anyway.

My body shook. My vision blurred. But I held his gaze.

“I’ll never give you what you want,” I said quietly.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Certain.

For a moment, he just stared at me.

Then he smiled.

It wasn’t the charming smile. Not even the cruel one.

It was bored.

“Well,” he sighed, stepping back, “I was hoping we could avoid all the unpleasantness. But if you insist on being difficult…”

He turned to his men.

“Teach her some manners,” he said casually. “But don’t break her. We still need her alive.”

Cold flooded my veins.

Hands grabbed my arms, wrenching them painfully behind me. I cried out despite myself as they forced me down onto my knees, my body screaming in protest. Panic surged hard and fast, choking, dizzying—but I fought it.

I would not beg.
I would not disappear.

Laughter rippled through the room as they closed in, close enough that I could smell them—sweat, metal, something sour and rotten beneath it all.
Then—

“Enough.”

Darius lifted a hand, bored already.

“Not now,” he said dismissively. “I want her aware when the real fun begins.”

The hands released me.

I sagged forward, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps, relief crashing through me so hard it almost made me dizzy. Almost.

But the dread never left.

Their eyes stayed on me. Watching. Waiting.

As they stepped back into the shadows, I pressed my forehead briefly to the cold floor and forced my breathing to steady. Every muscle trembled. Every nerve screamed.

But I was still here.

Still thinking.
Still fighting.

Matthew was out there. I knew it—not as hope, but as certainty. He would tear the world apart to find me.

And until then…

They could hurt me.
They could threaten me.
They could try to break me.

But I would endure.
I would survive.

And when this was over—
They would regret ever touching me.