Chapter 120 In The Cell

Chapter 120 In The Cell
Damien Thorne hit the cold concrete floor with a force that knocked the air out of his lungs.

Pain exploded through his body as the warder shoved him fully into the cell, his back scraping harshly against the rough surface. He groaned, clutching his side as he struggled to sit upright, his breath uneven, his chest tight. 

The dull, throbbing ache from his missing finger pulsed sharply, as though reminding him of everything he had already lost.

“I don’t belong here!” he shouted hoarsely after the retreating warder, scrambling slightly on the floor. “You hear me? I don’t belong here!”

The iron door slammed shut with a finality that echoed through the cramped space.

No response.

No acknowledgment.

Just silence… followed by low, amused chuckles.

Damien’s breath hitched.

Slowly, he turned his head and saw three men.

They looked intimidating- Watching and studying him.

His stomach dropped.

One of them—a tall, menacing-looking man with tightly plaited hair, leaned lazily against the wall, then without warning, flicked a metal spoon straight at Damien. It clanged sharply against the floor beside him.

Damien flinched violently.

The other two burst into laughter.

“Look at him,” one of them said, shaking his head in mock pity. “Man’s already trembling like a rat.”

Damien swallowed, forcing himself to sit straighter despite the pain crawling through his body. “You’re only acting like this because I’m here with you,” he said shakily, trying to gather whatever was left of his pride. 

“Outside this place… I rule. I’m a Thorne. People bow when they see me.”

For a split second, there was silence.

Then the man with a scarred, rugged face threw his head back and laughed loudly.

“A Thorne?” he repeated, amused. “You still have the guts to claim that after your own twin turned you into half a man?”

The others joined in, their laughter louder this time.

Damien’s jaw tightened painfully.

Another stepped forward, smirking. “Wait… isn’t this the one they said killed his twin’s best friend? Over a woman?”

“Ahh, yes,” the scarred one added mockingly. “Such a pussy. Too desperate for a woman’s attention he competed with his own brother. That’s pathetic.”

Damien’s chest heaved. “Watch your mouths,” he snapped, his voice cracking despite his effort to sound authoritative. “You know nothing about me.”

The man with the plaited hair pushed himself off the wall slowly.

The shift in the air was immediate, turning from mockery to dangerous.

He walked toward Damien with calm, measured steps, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“Who are you talking to?” he asked quietly.

Damien instinctively crawled backward, his body betraying him before his mind could even form a defense.

“I… I wasn’t—”

The punch came fast. It landed square on his face, snapping his head sideways as pain burst through his nose.

A sickening crack followed.

Damien groaned loudly, clutching his face as blood poured freely.

Another man crouched beside him, his grin wicked as his hand hovered dangerously close to Damien’s injured hand.

“Should we even things out?” he muttered, eyeing the missing finger. “Or maybe take another one?”

Damien’s entire body trembled.

“Please…” he begged, his voice breaking as panic took over his earlier fragile ego. “Please, don’t—”

The man with plaited hair smirked faintly, enjoying the sight before him.

“Okay, pussy. You can call me King Roy,” he said.

Damien swallowed hard, his throat dry, voice barely above a whisper.

“K–King Roy…”

Roy’s smile widened.

“Good,” he said. “Now you understand how things work here.” His eyes hardened slightly. “I run this cell. You breathe because I allow it.”

Then, without warning, he drove a kick into Damien’s side.

Pain shot through his ribs, forcing a strangled cry from his throat as he collapsed sideways.

Roy turned away casually, returning to his spot as though nothing had happened.

Damien lay there for a moment, broken breaths escaping him, before forcing himself into a sitting position again. The stench of the cell—urine, sweat, decay—hit him fully now, making his stomach churn.

This was his reality.

This.

His mind drifted unwillingly to what his life used to be.

He had power. Control. Respect.

But now…All of it… gone.

And as quickly as the memories came, they twisted into realization. One he had never considered settling with before amidst all he was chasing.

His father.

Everything traced back to him.

Damien’s jaw clenched tightly, a trace of anger breaking through his fear.

If he had known… if he had only known.

He should have never yielded. Never agreed to Talia’s plan.

Never allowed himself to be dragged into something that was never his to carry.

But she had known his secret.

That he was the one who killed the man he had framed Julian for… the same lie that sent his brother into exile all those years ago.

He had done everything she asked just to keep that buried.

And now?

Everything was exposed.

He was the one rotting in a cell.

While Talia…Her mother…And his father…Were out there on the run. His father hadn’t looked back for him.

Tears spilled freely down his face, his shoulders shaking as the weight of it crushed him completely.

He didn’t bother holding it in.

Didn’t bother pretending anymore.

“Hey,” one of the men called mockingly. “Keep it down, pussy. Or do you want me to even your hand out? Three fingers might suit you better.”

Laughter erupted around him again.

Damien shut his eyes tightly, his chest tightening as helplessness swallowed him whole.

This couldn’t be the end. He thought desperately. He had to survive, even if that would cost him everything else.

In as much as it wouldn’t cost him his life, he didn’t care anymore.

~

Victor Thorne paced the length of the cozy living room like a caged animal.

The television kept playing, the news kept taking the air space around him.

“—reports confirm that Victor Thorne, alongside Sheryl Moreau and Talia Moreau, remain missing following the collapse of the Thorne Tech dynasty…”

Victor’s jaw clenched.

“…shareholders have begun a full withdrawal, and internal reports suggest mass resignation among staff…”

His hands curled into fists.

“…many are asking if this marks the definitive end of the once-powerful Thorne empire…”

The words echoed like a taunt to his massive ego..

“…sources now indicate that Victor Thorne may be hiding in a private residence belonging to one of his known associates in Pahrump, outside Las Vegas—”

Victor snapped.

He grabbed the remote and shut the television off with a violent click, the sudden silence thick and suffocating.

He turned sharply to face the woman seated calmly across the room.

“You said they knew nothing,” he hissed, his voice low but seething. “So how the hell do they know I’m close to Pahrump?”

The woman rose gracefully from her seat, completely unfazed.

Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she walked toward him, her presence filling the room with dangerous composure.

“Relax, Victor,” she said smoothly, her tone almost soothing. “I told you I would fix the news.”

She stopped just close enough, her eyes locking onto his with quiet confidence.

“I won’t allow the father of my children to perish,” she continued, her lips curving slightly. Then her expression suddenly morph to steel. “But firstly, I need my twins safe and healthy.”

Victor stilled completely, his heart racing fast in his chest.