CHAPTER 77

CHAPTER 77
Magnus Hale

I leave the cell with the tray, smiling and shaking my head. I’m walking down the corridor toward the cafeteria when, suddenly, someone pulls me violently into the bathroom and throws me to the floor; the impact forces a groan out of me. I lift my face, ready to rip the son of a bitch's throat out, and I find Navarro surrounded by his gang.

"Hello, executioner." His voice is like a blade. "Looks like you've been having fun with that monster."

A growl escapes my throat. I push myself up carefully, feeling my blood boil.

"Don't call him that, you piece of shit," my response is short and hard. "I’m the only one who has that right."

I let out a humorless laugh, staring down the five men accompanying him.

"Still weak as ever. You need your little bitches to face me."

He lets out a hoarse sound; the provocation hits home. Suddenly, a malicious smile spreads across his face.

"I just want to break your face. My friends do, too. I’m just giving them a hand."

I drop into a fighting stance, fists clenched, body ready to react.

"Then bring it on, you son of a bitch."

But before I can even realize it, they lunge—all five at once.

Two grab me by the waist, another pins my neck, and the remaining two grip my arms with force. The hold is suffocating, their fingers digging into my skin; their hot breath burns behind me.

Navarro approaches slowly, wearing that sneer that makes me want to rip his face off.

The first blow comes fast—a direct punch to the eye. My vision blurs. Another hits my stomach; the air leaves me in a hoarse groan. I try to break free, but the bastards hold me like iron shackles.

Navarro attacks again, fist against face. Rage grows, throbbing, and when he raises his arm once more, I thrust my head forward and catch his nose with a dry, satisfying headbutt. The sound of the impact echoes; he groans in pain, staggers back a step, but recomposes himself with hate in his eyes.

"You son of a bitch!" he screams, spitting.

I drive my knee into his abdomen, making him grit his teeth, but the movement unbalances me and I fall. The others don't waste time; they all descend at once.

Kicks. Punches. Pain. I try to protect my face and torso, but it's useless. Every blow is like thunder striking my ribs, my head, and my chest. The taste of blood invades my mouth—hot, metallic, nauseating.

Navarro reaches down, grabs the collar of my uniform, and jerks me up, tearing the fabric. His face is distorted, his eyes bloodshot with pure hate.

"This is what you deserve, you bastard!" he screams, spitting saliva. "For everything you put me through!"

His fist hits my cheek, then my nose, then my mouth. My vision begins to fail. Everything becomes blurry and distant.

He lets go, and my body drops; my head hits the floor hard. Another kick rips through my chest; the air vanishes again. Coughing hurts; breathing burns.

Blood trickles over my lips; the bitter taste is the only thing keeping me conscious. I try to get up one last time, but another kick hits me. The world spins.

Pain dominates everything: my body, my mind, and my soul.

I open my eyes, the blood streaming down and blurring my vision. I let out a hoarse laugh that immediately turns into a groan of pain.

"What are you laughing at, you piece of shit?" He screams, gripping my collar even tighter, hate dripping from his voice.

I smile anyway, indifferent to my condition.

"Y-You're fucked... You think Adrian is just going to stand by? I-I feel sorry for you." My speech is broken; the retort takes effect and makes him roar with rage.

A punch hits my face, then another, and another; the sequence is a rhythmic blur that makes my head spin. I try to react, but my body no longer obeys; every impact erases pieces of my consciousness.

Before the world collapses completely, one last blow hits me, and the darkness arrives softly, stealing the sound, the scent, and the pain.

I open my eyes suddenly, and my entire body screams in agony. Every muscle, every bone, every part of me protests with pain—my head, my chest, my face… shit, everything hurts.

My vision returns slowly, blurred, and I realize I’m lying in the cell. I can’t even turn my neck; the slightest movement makes the world spin. I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath, but the air cuts like a blade, and the pain in my chest intensifies, drawing a low groan from me.

I want water. I want anything to relieve this infernal pain.

Footsteps echo in the corridor, and instinct awakens fear.

Is it that damn Navarro? No… that worm wouldn’t have the guts to step foot here, in Adrian’s cell.

With an effort, I turn my neck toward the entrance and see a familiar silhouette entering. My heart races; it’s him. Adrian. A warm relief washes over me, and for a moment, the pain loses its grip.

As soon as he notices I’m awake, his eyes widen and shimmer with tears.

He runs to me, kneeling beside the bed, his expression one of pure despair.

"L-Love… my love…" His voice trembles. "I was so afraid… so afraid, Magnus." Tears stream down as he speaks. "The way I found you… the state you were in… it was horrible."

He carefully runs his hand along my wounded cheek.

"I thought… I thought I had lost you."

His gaze shifts, the crying giving way to a cold, intense shadow.

"I almost lost you," his voice comes out low and hoarse. "So, you’re never leaving my side again. You’re never disappearing from my sight. I don't want to run the risk of losing you ever again."

I try to roll my eyes, but my body is too exhausted. I open my mouth with difficulty.

"W… water…" The word comes out between coughs.

Adrian stands up in a quick, almost feline motion, runs to the shelf, grabs a small bottle, and is back in the blink of an eye. He opens the cap and brings it to my lips, supporting my head with delicacy.

"Easy, slow." His soft voice guides the liquid into my mouth.

The cold water goes down my throat and makes me sigh. It’s a small relief, but enough to make me feel alive again.

But, of course, he always finds a way to remind me it’s not over.

Now comes another problem: I have to pee. And how the hell am I going to do that if I can barely move a finger? Shit.

I close my eyes, trying to convince myself I can hold it, but I can’t. The discomfort grows fast. Heat rises to my cheeks. Am I really going to have to ask for this?

"A-Adrian..." I call out, my voice failing.

He looks at me immediately, attentive.

"Yes, my love?"

I bite my lips by reflex and let out a low groan of pain; they are cut, and they burn.

I look away, staring at his chest.

"I-I..." I sigh, feeling the embarrassment rise. "I-I need to pee."

The silence that follows is worse than the pain. The air seems to weigh heavy between us. I slowly lift my gaze and find that crooked smile, that insane expression he has when something amuses him.

I roll my eyes, irritated.

"Don't tell me that..." A cough cuts me off; my chest hurts, but I continue. "That… you’re enjoying seeing me like this?"

His smile grows—calm, almost tender.

"I don't like seeing you hurt, my love." His voice is soft, but his eyes shine in a dangerous way. "But… I admit that having you depend on me is the best wedding present I could ever receive."

I stare at him, incredulous.

"W-Wedding?" I cough again. "Forget that... just help me; I really have to go."

"Of course, my love." His tone shifts to something playful. "Would you rather release it in my mouth?"

I open my eyes wide, indignant, which only makes him laugh.

"I’m joking." His tone is light and amused.

But, coming from him, you have to wonder.