《The Mob Queen Wants to Claim Me for Herself (In a Reverse World)》 Chapter 1: Trucked The glow of my monitor casts a dark light over my cubicle as I scroll through yet another chapter. A gruff female yakuza boss is currently manhandling her submissive male love interest. It¡¯s ridiculous, but I¡¯m hooked. ¡°Yo, Adam!¡± I nearly jump out of my skin, minimizing the window with lightning speed. Connor¡¯s leaning over my cubicle wall, grinning like the Cheshire cat. ¡°Dude, you scared the crap out of me,¡± I mutter, trying to play it cool. Connor¡¯s eyes narrow suspiciously. ¡°Bro, are you still reading that weird reverse world story?¡± ¡°Yeah, dude, I know it¡¯s slop, but I¡¯m addicted to this shit.¡± Connor lets out a hearty laugh and slaps my back, nearly sending me face-first into my keyboard. ¡°Did you read that one I sent you last night?¡± I blink, trying to remember. ¡°Uh, no, not yet. I¡¯m not really into furry stuff, man.¡± Connor shakes his head, looking at me like I¡¯m the dumbest guy in the office. ¡°Nah, dude, it¡¯s not furry. It¡¯s monster girls.¡± He leans in closer, lowering his voice. ¡°You know, like that moth girl yandere hentai you like, or that slime girl yandere hentai you¡¯re always going on about.¡± ¡°Oh dude, I love slime girls,¡± I say, eyes lighting up. ¡°They¡¯re like, the ultimate shapeshifters, you know? Endless possibilities.¡± Connor laughs. ¡°No, dude, I know. You never shut up about them.¡± I lean back in my chair, a mocking smile spreading across my face. ¡°Dude, if I dated a slime girl, while I was fucking her, I¡¯d have her take the form of your sister.¡± Connor doesn¡¯t even flinch. ¡°If I was fucking a slime girl, I¡¯d make her take the form of your dad and turn him into a whimpering mess. Then I¡¯d send you pictures.¡± I laugh so hard I nearly fall out of my chair. ¡°Nooooo!¡± I jokingly yell. ¡°Too far, bro,¡± I say, feigning an upset tone. ¡°Hey, you started it,¡± Connor shrugs, still grinning. ¡°Anyway, you gotta check out this new story. It¡¯s got everything moth girls, caterpillar girls, reverse rape. It¡¯s peak as fuck, dude.¡± ¡°Sounds like my kind of story,¡± I admit. ¡°I¡¯ll give it a look tonight.¡± I stand up, stretching my arms over my head. ¡°Man, we gotta go soon.¡± I wander over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the twinkling Boston skyline. From the 22nd floor, the city looks like a glittering circuit board, all neon veins and pulsing light. Connor joins me, his reflection ghostly in the glass. ¡°Dude, did you hear about that truck that ran through the school the other day? Killed some poor kid. Just got fucking crumpled in the wheel well.¡± I nod solemnly. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s nuts. Fucking tragic.¡± I pause, then add, ¡°Speaking of vehicular mayhem, did you hear about the truck that flew through the 11th floor of an apartment building?¡± ¡°Yeah, dude, it¡¯s wild,¡± Connor says, shaking his head. ¡°Like, how does that even happen?¡± ¡°I know, right?¡± I say. ¡°Imagine just chilling in your living room, watching TV, and suddenly there¡¯s a Mack truck that just absolutely 9/11¡¯s you. Did they ever figure out what happened?¡± ¡°Nah, dude, they said it was just a freak accident,¡± Connor replies, scratching his chin. I let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn, that¡¯s wild. At least there¡¯s no way a truck could get up this high.¡± We both fall silent, staring out at the cityscape. A full minute passes as we hold our breath, half-expecting a semi to come crashing through the glass. When nothing happens, we burst out laughing. ¡°Dude, I thought you just jinxed us,¡± Connor wheezes, clutching his sides. ¡°No, dude, that¡¯s not realistic,¡± I say, shaking my head. ¡°A truck would need wings to get up here. Or, like, a giant catapult.¡± ¡°Or a really determined driver,¡± Connor adds with a grin. I snort. ¡°Yeah, sure. ¡®Excuse me, coming through! Gotta deliver these pallets to the 22nd floor!¡¯¡± We¡¯re both cackling now, drawing concerned looks from the few remaining coworkers. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go home,¡± I say, wiping tears from my eyes. ¡°This monster girl story won¡¯t read itself.¡± As I grab my jacket, I hear Connor scream, ¡°Adam, move¡­¡± Before he can finish, an earth-shattering crash drowns out his words. The world explodes into chaos as a semi-truck smashes through the window on the other side of the building. Time seems to slow as I watch the impossible scene unfold. Shards of glass fly towards me like a glittering storm. I instinctively raise my arms to shield my face, but it¡¯s too late. The glass peppers my skin, a thousand tiny cuts blooming across my body. I don¡¯t even have time to process the pain before the truck is upon me. Its massive grille fills my vision, a wall of chrome and steel bearing down with unstoppable force. In that frozen moment, I have the absurd thought that this must be how a bug feels before it hits a windshield. Then impact. The truck strikes me with the force of a freight train. I¡¯m dimly aware of being lifted off my feet, carried along by the truck¡¯s momentum. Everything goes black. There¡¯s no pain, no sensation at all. Just a vast, empty darkness enveloping me. ¡®To think I¡¯d also got 9/11¡¯d by a truck. It¡¯s a cruel world.¡¯ ***** I gasp, sucking in air like I¡¯ve been underwater for hours. My eyes fly open, blinking rapidly against the harsh fluorescent light. The sterile smell of disinfectant fills my nostrils. ¡°Oh my god, I¡¯m alive,¡± I croak, my voice raspy from disuse. My hands instinctively move to my face, probing gingerly. There¡¯s a dull ache, but to my shock, I feel no cuts or scars. ¡°Adam, you¡¯re awake!¡± A familiar voice exclaims, thick with emotion. I turn my head, wincing at the stiffness in my neck. Jessica, my sister, is there, her usually immaculate appearance slightly disheveled. Her green eyes are wide with relief and brimming with unshed tears. Before I can react, she¡¯s across the room in a flash, enveloping me in a fierce hug. ¡°Oh my god, they weren¡¯t sure if you¡¯d wake up,¡± she chokes out, her body shaking slightly against mine. ¡°Whoa, easy there, sis,¡± I wheeze. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure a flying truck isn¡¯t strong enough to kill your brother.¡± Jessica pulls back, wiping her eyes. ¡°What?¡± As I¡¯m about to explain, movement at the door catches my eye. A woman I don¡¯t recognize walks in, clutching a candy bar. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and the snack slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor. ¡°Oh my god, Adam!¡± she cries, rushing over to me. Jessica moves aside, but I notice her eyeing the newcomer nervously. Before I can react, the woman throws her arms around me, sobbing into my chest. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, I¡¯m so, so sorry,¡± she wails, squeezing me tightly. I wince, my bruised body protesting the embrace. ¡°Uh, thanks?¡± I manage, utterly confused. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but... who are you?¡± The woman freezes, then slowly pulls back, her tear-streaked face a mask of shock and hurt. ¡°Adam... it¡¯s me. Claire.¡± I stare at her for what feels like an eternity, my mind racing to process this. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across her face, accentuating the worry lines etched around her eyes. Her short hair, a rich chestnut brown, falls in messy waves around her neck. She¡¯s dressed in a rumpled blouse and skirt like she¡¯s been living in the hospital for days. As I study her features, fragmented memories start to surface. A young girl with pigtails and braces, laughing as we chase fireflies. ¡°Oh my god,¡± I finally yell out. ¡°Claire Anderson. Yeah, we were friends growing up.¡± Her face lights up for a moment, hope flickering in her eyes. ¡°You look good,¡± I add lamely, not sure what else to say. ¡°Why are you here though?¡± The hope in her eyes shatters, replaced by a fresh wave of tears. They spill down her cheeks, leaving glistening trails in their wake. Her lower lip trembles as she struggles to form words. ¡°Adam,¡± she chokes out, her voice thick with emotion. ¡°I¡¯m your wife. We¡¯ve been married for two years.¡± The words hit me like a physical blow. I go pale, feeling the blood drain from my face. The room starts to spin, and I grip the edges of the hospital bed to steady myself. I can hear the heart monitor pick up, its steady beeping becoming more frantic, matching the pounding in my chest. ¡°What?¡± I manage to gasp out, my eyes darting between Claire and Jessica, desperately seeking some kind of explanation. But Jessica just stands there, her expression a mix of pity and concern. ¡°What? No, that can¡¯t be right,¡± I stammer, my mind reeling. ¡°We stopped talking in high school, remember?¡± I trail off, noticing the looks of concern deepening on both women¡¯s faces. Claire¡¯s lower lip quivers, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. Jessica steps forward, her brow furrowed. ¡°Adam, I was there. At your wedding. Two years ago. You two were definitely married.¡± I shake my head vigorously, wincing at the dull ache that blooms behind my eyes. ¡°Are you sure?¡± Jessica¡¯s expression softens. ¡°Would I lie to you?¡± I pause, considering. Despite our occasional sibling rivalry, Jessica has always been brutally honest with me. ¡°I guess not,¡± I concede reluctantly. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the steady beep of the heart monitor. I fidget with the scratchy hospital blanket, trying to make sense of this bizarre situation. ¡°So, uh,¡± I begin, clearing my throat, ¡°how long ago did the truck hit me?¡± S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Claire¡¯s brow furrows in confusion. ¡°What truck?¡± Jessica¡¯s eyes widen, and she exchanges a worried glance with Claire. ¡°He mentioned a truck earlier, too,¡± she says, her voice laced with concern. Claire turns back to me, her brown eyes searching my face. ¡°Adam, do you... do you not remember what happened to you?¡± I look at them, lost and confused. ¡°What do you mean? I was at work on the 22nd floor like usual, reading a web novel instead of working because, you know, I was being lazy. I was talking with Connor, and then bam! I got blasted by a fucking truck that came flying through the window. It was insane, glass everywhere, the truck¡¯s grille filling my vision. I thought I was done for.¡± Claire¡¯s face pales, her eyes widening in shock. ¡°Honey, you don¡¯t have a job or know anyone named Connor.¡± ¡°You weren¡¯t hit by a truck, Adam.¡± Jessica looks nervous, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. ¡°You were rap¡­¡± Claire cuts her off sharply, shooting her a warning glance. ¡°You were attacked at night 3 weeks ago on the street,¡± she says hurriedly. ¡°You were walking home, and you got jumped by a group of women.¡± I blink, trying to process this information. ¡°But... that can¡¯t be right. I remember the truck so vividly.¡± Claire reaches out, gently taking my hand in hers. Her touch feels foreign, yet strangely familiar. ¡°Adam, sweetie, there was no truck. You¡¯ve been in a coma for three weeks. The doctors... they weren¡¯t sure if you¡¯d ever wake up.¡± I shake my head, wincing at the dull throb that accompanies the movement. ¡°No, no, that can¡¯t be right. Connor and I were joking about trucks crashing into buildings. We were laughing about it!¡± Jessica sighs heavily. ¡°Adam, listen to your story. A truck smashing into the 22nd floor? That¡¯s ridiculous.¡± ¡°I know,¡± I insist, frustration creeping into my voice. ¡°That¡¯s what Connor and I laughed about. It was ridiculous, but then it actually happened!¡± Claire flashes Jessica an annoyed look, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°He needs to process this at his own pace,¡± she says, her tone clipped. Jessica holds up her hands in surrender. ¡°You¡¯re right, you¡¯re right,¡± she concedes, though I can see the worry still etched on her face. Claire turns back to me, her eyes softening as she wraps her arms around me once more. ¡°Thank God you¡¯re okay,¡± she whispers, her breath warm against my ear. Her fingers dig into my back as if she¡¯s afraid I might disappear if she lets go. As I awkwardly return the hug, I can¡¯t help but notice Jessica¡¯s expression. She¡¯s watching Claire with a mixture of suspicion and concern, her green eyes narrowed slightly. There¡¯s a tension in her shoulders like she¡¯s ready to spring into action at any moment. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I don¡¯t remember you, Claire.¡± I mumble into her hair.¡± She tenses for a moment, then relaxes, digging her face deeper into the crook of my neck. Her breath is warm against my skin as she whispers, so softly I don¡¯t think Jessica can hear it, ¡°Maybe it¡¯s better this way. We can fall in love all over again.¡± There¡¯s something in her tone, a hint of relief, that doesn¡¯t quite fit. She seems to be holding something back, but I can¡¯t put my finger on what. I continue patting her back, my mind racing. ¡°This will certainly be an adjustment.¡± I voice a thought out loud. ***** I must¡¯ve dozed off at some point. When I open my eyes again, the room is dim and quiet. The steady beep of the heart monitor is the only sound breaking the silence. I blink groggily, trying to get my bearings. Jessica¡¯s gone. She said something about coming back tomorrow. Claire was sticking around though. I scan the room, but she¡¯s not here either. The door¡¯s shut tight. I shift in the bed, wincing at the dull ache in my muscles. As I turn my head, I catch a glimpse of movement through the window in the door. Claire¡¯s out there, talking to someone. I squint, trying to make out who she¡¯s with. It¡¯s a tall woman, soaring over Claire by at least a head. She¡¯s got long blonde hair cascading down her back, and ¡®holy shit, are those red eyes?¡¯ They¡¯re practically glowing in the dim hallway light. Claire looks stressed, her hands moving in nervous gestures as she speaks. The blonde woman seems annoyed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression is thunderous, those red eyes narrowed dangerously. I strain to hear what they¡¯re saying, but the door muffles their voices. Claire¡¯s shoulders are hunched like she¡¯s trying to make herself smaller. The blonde woman leans in close, saying something that makes Claire flinch. Suddenly, as if sensing my gaze, the blonde woman¡¯s head snaps towards me. Those crimson eyes lock onto mine, and I feel a chill run down my spine. Her gaze is predatory, almost hungry. A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face. I can¡¯t help but stare, transfixed by the statuesque blonde. She¡¯s like something out of a dream. She¡¯s tall, impossibly tall. At least 6¡¯4¡±. Her face is a masterpiece of sharp angles and soft curves, high cheekbones, and full lips quirked in a knowing smirk. Her body is a work of art, all dangerous curves barely contained by an expensive-looking tailored suit. The jacket strains slightly across her ample chest. There¡¯s an aura of power around her, raw and primal. Since she¡¯s here, she might know me, so I raise my hand in a weak wave. Her smirk widens, becoming downright carnivorous. Those crimson eyes seem to burn even brighter as she returns the wave, her movements slow and deliberate. Claire notices our interaction and whips her head around to look at me. Her eyes are wide with worry, darting nervously between me and the blonde goddess. She says something urgently to the taller woman, who merely chuckles in response. ¡°I wonder who that tall lady is,¡± I mutter to myself as I lay back down in my bed. Chapter 2: Give it to me Straight A day has passed since I woke up, and I¡¯m already going stir-crazy in this hospital room. The walls are closing in on me, I swear. Dr. Ramirez, a stern-looking woman with salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a tight bun, is peering at my brain scans with furrowed brows. She¡¯s been silent for what feels like hours, though it¡¯s probably only been a few minutes. Finally, she sighs and turns to Claire, who¡¯s hovering anxiously nearby. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know. He seems fine, but there¡¯s a weird shadow on the scans.¡± ¡°Doc, give it to me straight,¡± I pipe up, trying to keep my voice steady. ¡°Am I going to be dumber than I used to be?¡± Dr. Ramirez¡¯s lips purse, clearly not amused by my attempt at humor. Claire shoots me a disapproving look. ¡°Adam!¡± she hisses. ¡°What?¡± I shrug defensively. ¡°It¡¯s a serious question.¡± Claire¡¯s eyes narrow, a mix of concern and frustration swirling in their depths. Dr. Ramirez clears her throat, drawing our attention back to her. ¡°Mr. Anderson, your cognitive functions appear to be intact,¡± she says, her tone clipped and professional. ¡°However, the shadow we¡¯re seeing is... unusual. We¡¯d like to keep you overnight for another week.¡± I look at Claire, fidgeting with the scratchy hospital blanket. ¡°I¡¯m just so bored. Do I have a phone?¡± Claire winces, her eyes darting nervously around the room. ¡°Oh, uhh... no. I think the women who attacked you stole it.¡± Dr. Ramirez¡¯s eyebrows shoot up, and she gives Claire a long, hard stare. After an uncomfortable silence, she sighs heavily. ¡°I¡¯ll check on him again in a few days, but if he stays this... cheery,¡± she says, emphasizing the word with a hint of skepticism, ¡°he¡¯ll be good to go in a week.¡± Claire nods vigorously, relief washing over her face. ¡°Thank you, Doctor.¡± As Dr. Ramirez turns to leave, she pauses at the door. Without looking back, she says in a low voice, ¡°Don¡¯t thank me. Thank our boss.¡± The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Claire¡¯s face pales, and she wrings her hands anxiously. I glance between them, feeling like I¡¯m missing some crucial piece of information. ¡°Boss?¡± I ask, breaking the tense silence. ¡°You two have the same boss?¡± Claire sits on the bed with me, her weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. She smiles nervously, her eyes darting around the room as if checking for eavesdroppers. ¡°Shhh, don¡¯t think too hard right now,¡± she whispers, leaning in close. ¡°What if you become a clinical idiot?¡± I laugh, the sound echoing off the sterile walls. ¡°Oh, my wife is funny?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Her eyes soften at my words, a hint of hope flickering in their depths. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my arm. ¡°So, how are you taking the news? Waking up with a wife you don¡¯t remember?¡± I shrug, feeling the rough hospital gown shift against my skin. ¡°Surprisingly easier than not having a phone.¡± She playfully hits my shoulder and says, ¡°Wowwww. Since you woke up, you¡¯re a lot more sassy than you used to be.¡± I feel a sudden pang of nervousness, my stomach tightening into knots. ¡°What if... what if I¡¯m not the husband you remember?¡± I ask hesitantly. ¡°What if I¡¯m different?¡± Claire¡¯s eyes widen, filling with a pain so raw and visceral it takes my breath away. It¡¯s like watching a beautiful stained glass window shatter in slow motion, each shard reflecting a different facet of her anguish. Her lower lip trembles, and for a moment, I think she might burst into tears. She cups my face in her hands, her touch gentle yet firm. Her palms are soft against my stubbled cheeks, and I can feel the slight tremor in her fingers. ¡°Adam,¡± she says, her voice low and intense, ¡°you¡¯ve been through so much. It¡¯s okay to be broken.¡± There¡¯s a weight to her words, a depth of meaning I can¡¯t quite grasp. It¡¯s as if she¡¯s speaking about more than just my memory loss, more than just the attack that put me here. Her eyes search mine, looking for something, recognition, perhaps, or understanding. I lean back, my mind reeling. ¡°It¡¯s just... weird, you know? Having a wife all of a sudden. One day, I¡¯m single, the next, I wake up married. It¡¯s like I¡¯m living in some bizarre rom-com.¡± Claire¡¯s laugh is tinged with sadness, her eyes glistening. ¡°I bet it is,¡± she says softly. She pauses, biting her lip nervously before continuing, ¡°Maybe... maybe if we kiss, you¡¯ll remember me?¡± ¡®I¡¯m so sorry other Adam. I know she¡¯s not my wife, but if we switched places, you are long gone. The best i can do for you is take care of your wife.¡¯ I feel heat rising to my cheeks. ¡°I suppose that is something a husband and wife would do,¡± I mumble, my heart racing. I lean in, closing my eyes as our lips connect. At first it¡¯s a little awkward, almost chaste. But then Claire¡¯s hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens, her lips parting slightly. I follow her lead, my tongue hesitantly meeting hers. A soft gasp escapes me as our tongues intertwine. Claire presses closer, her fingers tangling in my hair. Our tongues dance together, exploring and tasting. I let out a quiet moan, getting lost in the sensations. It feels illicit somehow, making out in a hospital bed with a woman I barely know. After what feels like an eternity, Claire slowly pulls back. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright. ¡°Wow,¡± she breathes. ¡°That was... a lot more eager than I remember.¡± I¡¯m still reeling from the kiss when a sharp ¡°Ahem¡± cuts through the air like a knife. Claire jumps back as if she¡¯s been burned, her eyes wide with panic. Standing in the doorway is the statuesque blonde from yesterday, her crimson eyes gleaming with barely contained fury. She¡¯s even more striking up close. Her tailored suit hugs every curve, the fabric stretching tantalizing across her ample chest. She flashes me a dazzling smile. ¡°Oh my,¡± she purrs, her voice rich and smooth as honey. ¡°Did your husband already get his memories back, Claire?¡± Claire shrinks visibly, her earlier confidence evaporating like mist in the sun. "N-no, Caterina," she stammers, wringing her hands. ¡°We were just... hoping a kiss might jog his memory.¡± I clear my throat, feeling like I should contribute something to this increasingly awkward conversation. ¡°No memories, I¡¯m afraid,¡± I say with an apologetic shrug. ¡°But it was a nice kiss.¡± The blonde woman, Caterina apparently, grinds her teeth, the muscle in her jaw twitching. Her eyes narrow dangerously. ¡°Oh, was it?¡± she growls, her voice low and threatening. Oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, I point at Caterina. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the tall lady from yesterday!¡± I exclaim, proud of myself for remembering. Caterina stares at Claire, her ruby eyes glinting dangerously. ¡°Oh wow, he doesn¡¯t remember me either,¡± she says, her voice dripping with annoyance. Claire shrinks further into herself, looking like she wants to disappear into the hospital bed. ¡°Well, you only met a few times,¡± she mumbles, not meeting Caterina¡¯s gaze. I decide to break the awkward tension. ¡°I¡¯m Adam Evans,¡± I say with a friendly smile, extending my hand towards the statuesque blonde. ¡°Adam Anderson.¡± Claire reminds me. She told me earlier but it hasn¡¯t quite stuck yet. ¡°Adam Anderson,¡± I repeat with my hand still out. Caterina¡¯s demeanor shifts instantly, her predatory grin morphing into something softer, almost warm. She takes my hand in hers, her grip firm and commanding. ¡°Yes, I am Caterina,¡± she purrs, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. ¡°An investor here at this hospital and also your lovely wife¡¯s boss at the casino.¡± My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. ¡°Oh, you work at a casino?¡± I turn to Claire, who looks like she¡¯d rather be anywhere else. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that.¡± Claire nods dejectedly, her shoulders slumping. ¡°Yeah,¡± she says. ¡°What do you do there?¡± I ask. Caterina¡¯s eyes light up. ¡°Oh, she¡¯s one of my many bookkeepers,¡± she purrs. ¡°Claire helps run the day-to-day operations along with a few other go-getters.¡± I smile, genuinely impressed. ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± I exclaim, turning to Claire. But she¡¯s avoiding eye contact, her gaze fixed firmly on the linoleum floor. I find it odd, but maybe she¡¯s just embarrassed by the praise. ¡°Yeah,¡± Claire mumbles, her voice barely audible. She¡¯s fidgeting with the hem of her blouse, her knuckles white from gripping the fabric so tightly. ¡®Oh, maybe Claire hates her boss. I get that.¡¯ With this new understanding in place I decide on an easy plan to get Caterina to leave. ¡°Well, it was nice to meet you, Caterina, but I¡¯m feeling a bit tired.¡± Caterina¡¯s expression instantly shifts from smug satisfaction to deep concern. Her brow furrows, and she takes a step closer to the bed. ¡°Oh, you poor thing,¡± she coos, her voice dripping with worry. ¡°Are you alright? Should I call the doctor?¡± Her sudden change in demeanor catches me off guard. The intensity of her concern seems a bit... much for someone I¡¯ve just met. I glance at Claire, hoping for some clue as to what¡¯s going on, but she¡¯s still staring at the floor, her face a mask of resignation. ¡°No, no,¡± I assure Caterina, forcing a smile. ¡°Just normal tiredness. You know, still recovering and all that.¡± Caterina nods, but her eyes are still scanning me intently as if searching for any sign of discomfort. ¡°Of course, of course,¡± she murmurs. ¡°You need your rest.¡± Well then, I¡¯ll be seeing you,¡± Caterina says. Her ruby eyes locked on mine. ¡°I hope you recover soon, Adam.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I say as she saunters towards the door. Her hips sway hypnotically with each step. Just before she exits, she turns and throws me a wink that confuses me. ¡®Man, that woman is my type to the T. But life gave me a wife. And I¡¯d just fumble a bad bitch like that anyways.¡¯ I think to myself with a chuckle. As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, Claire lets out a deep sigh of relief. Her entire body seems to deflate, tension draining out of her like air from a balloon. She slumps back into her chair, running a shaky hand through her disheveled hair. ¡°Not a big fan of your boss, huh?¡± I quip, trying to lighten the mood. Claire¡¯s eyes snap to mine, wide and filled with a mixture of emotions I can¡¯t quite decipher. There¡¯s fear there, certainly, but also pity for some reason. ¡°It¡¯s just really complicated.¡± I nod sympathetically. ¡°I get it. I wasn¡¯t a big fan of my boss at my job either. Always breathing down my neck, micro-managing me. It can be tough.¡± Claire¡¯s expression shifts, the sadness in her eyes deepening. She looks at me like I¡¯m a puppy that¡¯s just been kicked. ¡°Oh, Adam,¡± she says softly, her voice thick with emotion. ¡°You¡¯ve never had a job.¡± ¡°Oh yeah. I forgot.¡± I say without much conviction. ¡®I¡¯ve barely been here a day. It¡¯s hard to just abandon my old life, though I should probably try harder.¡¯ Claire leans forward, her eyes sparkling with sudden curiosity. ¡°Where did you work in your coma dream world?¡± ¡°It was called Larry¡¯s Fund,¡± I say, hiding a smirk. Claire bursts into giggles, the sound light and musical. ¡°That¡¯s such a stupid name!¡± I nod, grinning. ¡°Larry was an odd dude.¡± ¡°Oh, you got to meet Larry? You must have been a big deal?¡± Claire asks, still chuckling. I laugh and shake my head. ¡°No, no, Connor and I joined right out of college. It was a small fund. Larry managed to snag a nice office space in one of those fancy buildings right next to State Street. We were up on the 22nd floor, but only Larry had an actual office. The rest of us were crammed into cubicles like sardines.¡± Claire¡¯s giggling now, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She seems to be genuinely enjoying my story, but it¡¯s all real. This all happened to me. Which makes it a bit funnier to me. Claire hones in on a part of the story. ¡°And who¡¯s this Connor you keep mentioning?¡± ¡°Connor? Oh, he¡¯s my best friend,¡± I say, grinning at the memories. ¡°We¡¯d spend half our day just yapping at each other. It was a lot of fun.¡± Claire¡¯s smile fades, replaced by a look of worry. She leans forward, taking my hand in hers. ¡°Adam,¡± she says gently, ¡°there¡¯s no such thing as Larry¡¯s Fund. And I¡¯m sorry, but you don¡¯t know anyone named Connor.¡± S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I say, just going with the flow. Claire¡¯s eyes fill with tears. She stands up and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. ¡°You can spend as much time yapping with me as you want, though.¡± I hug her back. I know it was real, but there¡¯s no reason for her to believe me. ¡®I probably wouldn¡¯t either.¡¯ In her own way she seems to be handling this better than I think I would in her shoes. ¡°That sounds good,¡± I say, appreciating her attempt at validation. ¡°Thanks for being so understanding.¡± Claire pulls back from the hug, wiping her eyes. As she does, I notice a glint of gold on her left hand. My eyes are drawn to the delicate band adorning her ring finger, its polished surface catching the harsh fluorescent light. Suddenly, a thought strikes me. I glance down at my own hand, noticing for the first time the conspicuous absence on my ring finger. ¡°Hey, where¡¯s my wedding ring?¡± I ask, frowning as I inspect my bare hand more closely. ¡°Did they take it off for the medical procedures or something?¡± Claire¡¯s face drains of color so quickly I¡¯m worried she might faint. Her eyes go wide, darting around the room like a cornered animal searching for escape. ¡°Oh, uhh...¡± she finally manages, her voice trembling. ¡°I believe the women who attacked you stole that too.¡± There¡¯s something off about her tone, a slight quaver that sets alarm bells ringing in my head. It sounds like she¡¯s lying, but I can¡¯t for the life of me figure out why she would. What possible reason could she have to lie about a wedding ring? ¡°Well,¡± I say, trying to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere, ¡°let¡¯s hope I don¡¯t run into these women, lest I have to get my revenge!¡± I flash a grin, expecting Claire to laugh. Instead, her face contorts with horror. ¡°Don¡¯t even joke, Adam!¡± she cries, grabbing my arm with surprising force. ¡°I don¡¯t want you putting yourself in danger!¡± ¡°Ahh, sorry. Of course, I won¡¯t.¡± ***** I¡¯m sprawled out on the hospital bed, the scratchy sheets bunched around my legs. The room is dim, lit only by the flickering glow of the TV mounted on the wall. Claire left a while ago since visiting hours are limited. I¡¯m flipping through channels, trying to find something to numb my brain. I land on some show called ¡°Gossip Boy.¡± Never heard of it, but whatever. The opening credits roll, all glitz and glamour. As I watch, I can¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow. These dudes are... different. They¡¯re all decked out in designer clothes, sipping fruity cocktails and gossiping about who¡¯s dating who. One guy is literally in tears because his crush didn¡¯t text him back. Another is having a meltdown over a bad hair day. ¡°Jeez, these dudes are such drama queens?¡± I mutter to myself. It¡¯s bizarre. Just as I¡¯m about to change the channel, the door creaks open. A nurse walks in, her shoes squeaking softly on the linoleum floor. She¡¯s carrying an IV bag filled with some clear liquid. ¡°Hey there,¡± she says with a peppy smile. ¡°I¡¯m just here to set you up with something to help you recover quicker and get some good sleep.¡± I blink at her, confused. ¡°Oh, uh, no thanks. I slept fine last night.¡± The nurse¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t waver, but there¡¯s a slight tightening around her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s the doctor¡¯s orders, I¡¯m afraid.¡± I shrug, not really caring enough to argue. ¡°Oh, okay then.¡± ¡°Just one thing. Some people say they have weird dreams when we use this,¡± The nurse speaks with slight concern. ¡°Like nightmares?¡± I respond, curious. ¡°No, it¡¯s usually sexy dreams.¡± She says awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± I chuckle out. As she bustles around, hooking up the IV, I turn my attention back to the TV. One of the girls on the show, Charlotte Bass, is bragging about how rich she is. ¡°You okay there?¡± the nurse asks, pausing in her work. ¡°Yeah, just... this show. It sucks.¡± She glances at the screen, then back at me with a puzzled expression. ¡°It¡¯s one of the most popular shows right now. All the guys love it.¡± I open my mouth to respond, but suddenly the room starts to spin. The TV blurs, the whiny voices melding together into a discordant hum. My eyelids feel heavy like they¡¯re made of lead. The room starts to tilt and sway like I¡¯m on a ship in rough seas. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision, but it only gets worse. The walls seem to breathe, expanding and contracting with each passing second. I feel like I¡¯m floating on a cloud. ¡°Whoa,¡± I slur, my tongue feeling thick and clumsy in my mouth. ¡°What¡¯s happening? This shit is fire.¡± The nurse¡¯s voice comes from far away, echoing as if through a long tunnel. ¡°Shhh, it¡¯s okay. This shit hits like a truck sometimes.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t bring up trucks.¡± I say trying to focus on her, but her outline keeps blurring and shifting. ¡°Nurses can¡¯t swear,¡± I mumble, the words coming out garbled and slow. She laughs, the sound distorted and warped. ¡°Oh fuck,¡± she says, her voice fading into the distance. Everything goes black. ***** After what feels like an eternity, I hear the door shut softly. I feel hands gently tugging at my hospital gown, cool air hitting my skin. Suddenly, I feel warm, wet heat envelop dick. I moan, my body responding instantly despite my foggy mind. Everything feels heightened, electric. Pleasure shoots through me like lightning. I try to look down, but my vision is blurry. All I can make out is a sea of golden blonde hair spilling across my lap. ¡°What the...¡± I slur, my tongue feeling thick and clumsy. The warmth leaves me for a moment. ¡°Shhh, it¡¯s just a dream, darling,¡± purrs a sultry voice. I blink rapidly, trying to focus. A pair of glowing crimson eyes meets mine, hungry and predatory. I slur, my words running together. ¡°Caterina... I¡¯m dreaming about you?¡± She lets out a low, sultry chuckle. ¡°You sure are,¡± she purrs, her voice like velvet. I let my head fall back against the pillow, a dopey grin spreading across my face. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised,¡± I mumble. ¡°Oh?¡± Caterina says, her tone playful as she slowly strokes me. ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± I moan softly at her touch, my hips arching up instinctively. ¡°So hot...¡± I manage to get out, my thoughts scattered. ¡°So tall... So busty...¡± She laughs again, the sound sending shivers down my spine. ¡°Oh, am I your type?¡± she asks coyly. Before I can respond, she lowers her head again. I gasp as I feel her tongue coil around my cock. My fingers tangle in her silky hair as waves of pleasure wash over me. I moan loudly, lost in the sensations. Caterina starts violently bobbing up and down. Lewd slurps fill the air as I whimper helplessly. She shoots her eyes up at me, crimson orbs gleaming with mischief. Somehow, she goes even lower, flush with the base of my pelvis. She starts gagging lightly, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. Seeing this drives me over the edge. ¡°Oh fuck,¡± I moan, my voice thick and slurred. Since it¡¯s just a dream, I figure why not let loose. I put both of my hands on the back of her head and push her down as I cum deep in her throat. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me as Caterina swallows eagerly, her throat working around me. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I pant. Caterina licks up any left cum off my cock as she slides off it. She gives my tip a little kiss. ¡°How was that, Adam?¡± she purrs, her voice sounding distant and echoey. ¡°Was that a nice dream?¡± I try to respond, but my tongue feels heavy and uncooperative. The room is spinning lazily around me. I feel myself slipping further into sleep, too tired to talk. With great effort, I manage to lift my hand and give her a shaky thumbs-up. My arm feels like it¡¯s moving through molasses, the gesture seeming to take an eternity. Caterina¡¯s laughter echoes strangely, as if coming from the bottom of a well. ¡°Next time you see me, just call me Cat, alright?¡± My eyelids are impossibly heavy now, fluttering closed despite my best efforts to keep them open. ¡°Yuppers,¡± I mumble, the word slurred and barely recognizable. As I lay with my eyes closed, drifting away, I hear Caterina¡¯s voice one last time. It¡¯s softer now, almost tender. ¡°You are destined to be mine, Adam. Don¡¯t forget that.¡± The words don¡¯t quite register in my addled brain. I try to ask what she means, but darkness is already closing in. The last thing I¡¯m aware of is the soft click of the door closing, and then everything fades to black. Chapter 3: A Well of Secrets A few days have passed, and I¡¯m starting to feel like a caged animal in this hospital room. The walls are closing in, the beeping of machines driving me slowly insane. I¡¯m laying out on the bed, bored as a fuck. Jessica¡¯s here, lounging in the visitor¡¯s chair with her legs crossed. She¡¯s been a constant presence these past few days, a familiar anchor in the sea of uncertainty I¡¯m drifting in. ¡°I¡¯m getting excited to leave soon,¡± I say. ¡°Can¡¯t wait to see something other than these four walls.¡± Jessica smiles, a hint of relief in her eyes. ¡°Yeah, I imagine you are,¡± she says, her voice warm. I nod, but then a thought strikes me, and I feel my stomach twist with anxiety. ¡°I¡¯m a bit anxious about the dynamic with Claire, though,¡± I admit, my voice low. ¡°Like, do I just sleep in the same bed with her? It feels... weird.¡± At the mention of Claire, Jessica¡¯s smile vanishes, replaced by a deep frown. Her brow furrows, and she shifts in her seat, suddenly tense. There¡¯s a long pause, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Jessica breaks the silence. ¡°How about you come stay with me for a while, Adam?¡± she suggests, her tone careful, measured. I run a hand through my hair, conflicted. ¡°I¡¯d hate to hurt Claire, you know? If she¡¯s my wife, it¡¯s my responsibility to be her husband, you know?¡± Jessica sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping. She leans forward, her green eyes intense as they lock onto mine. ¡°Adam,¡± she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, ¡°Claire isn¡¯t as good of a person as you think she is.¡± The words hang in the air between us, heavy and ominous. I feel a chill run down my spine, goosebumps prickling along my arms. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask, my voice cracking slightly. Jessica glances around the room nervously as if checking for eavesdroppers. She leans in even closer, her breath warm against my ear as she speaks. ¡°I¡¯m not sure on the full story since you never really liked talking about your marriage, but the night you got attacked, you called me. You two had gotten into a big fight.¡± My breath catches in my throat. I search Jessica¡¯s face, looking for any sign that she might be joking or exaggerating. But her expression is deadly serious, her eyes filled with concern and a hint of fear. ¡°A fight?¡± I repeat, my mind reeling. ¡°About what?¡± Jessica¡¯s eyes darken, her brow furrowing as she struggles to recall the details. ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly,¡± she says, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°When you were on the phone with me, I could barely understand you. You were so upset, your words all slurred together.¡± ¡°You hung up without telling me where you were going,¡± she says, a hint of frustration creeping into her tone. ¡°I was so worried, Adam. I went out driving, looking for you everywhere.¡± She pauses, taking a shaky breath. I can see the memory is still raw for her, the fear and uncertainty of that night etched into the lines of her face. ¡°Then, a few hours later, I got a call from Claire,¡± Jessica continues, her voice dropping even lower. ¡°She told me you were in the hospital. God, Adam, I¡¯ve never been so scared in my life.¡± The idea that other Adam was so upset, so out of it that he worried his own sister this much... it¡¯s unsettling. ¡°You don¡¯t think Claire had anything to do with the attack, do you?¡± I wonder out loud. Jessica¡¯s eyes widen in shock. ¡°God, no!¡± she exclaims, a little too loudly. She glances nervously at the door before continuing in a hushed tone. ¡°I mean, don¡¯t get me wrong. I don¡¯t like her, and I think she¡¯s all kinds of wrong for you. But she would never lay a finger on you.¡± ¡°So what happened then?¡± I ask, desperate for some kind of explanation. ¡°If Claire didn¡¯t hurt me, how exactly did they attack me?¡± Jessica sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping. She runs a hand through her hair, clearly struggling with what to say next. ¡°Claire begged me not to tell you the truth,¡± she says softly. ¡°She was afraid it would upset your psyche more. But I think you need to know.¡± She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. ¡°Adam, you were gang raped.¡± The words hit me like a physical blow. I blink rapidly, trying to process this information. Oddly, I don¡¯t feel as upset as I probably should. It¡¯s like hearing about something that happened to someone else. Which, in a way, it did to the other Adam. ¡®Man, you had it so hard, brother, getting hit by a truck, a stranger steals your wife. Gang Raped. I truly am sorry.¡¯ ¡°I... I thought I was attacked by women?¡± I say, my brow furrowing in confusion. ¡°What did they like, shove stuff up my ass?¡± Jessica¡¯s eyes widen in shock. ¡°What the fuck?¡± she exclaims, recoiling slightly. ¡°No! Jesus, Adam, that¡¯s not... God, why would you even say that?¡± I shrug, feeling a bit sheepish. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m honestly just trying to understand.¡± Jessica leans in, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief. She takes a deep breath as if steeling herself for what she¡¯s about to say. ¡°No, Adam,¡± she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°They... they took out your genitalia and gave you a pill to, you know... get it stiff.¡± ¡°They raped me with their vaginas?¡± I ask, my voice sounding distant and hollow to my own ears. ¡®I mean, I¡¯m not the type to say a woman can¡¯t rape a man, but this is unexpected. Being gang raped by women? That feels a bit odd.¡¯ Jessica nods slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. The weight of her gaze is almost physical, pressing down on me like a lead blanket. I lean back against the pillows, feeling utterly lost. The stark white ceiling above me blurs as I try to process this information. ¡°But how did I end up in a coma?¡± I ask, my voice sounding distant and hollow even to my own ears. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Jessica shifts uncomfortably in her chair, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. Finally, she takes a deep breath and meets my gaze. ¡°The cops think you struggled violently. They probably beat the shit out of you as they... as they took turns on you.¡± I blink, trying to wrap my head around this bizarre scenario. It feels surreal, like something out of a twisted crime drama rather than real life. ¡°They couldn¡¯t just find a man willing to fuck in the city? I¡¯m sure plenty of guys would be willing to show a handful of women a good time. Some men even dream about that stuff.¡± Jessica¡¯s face contorts in horror, her eyes widening in disbelief. She recoils as if I¡¯ve physically struck her. ¡°No man would want that!¡± she exclaims, her voice a mixture of shock and disgust. ¡°How could you even say such a thing? Adam, you were violently assaulted. Please do not downplay this.¡± ¡®Ahh, I see. From her point of view, I look like I barely care.¡¯ I feel a pang of guilt at Jessica¡¯s reaction. Her face is a mask of horror and disbelief, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just... struggling to process all this. It sounds like it happened to someone else, you know?¡± Jessica¡¯s expression softens, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She reaches out, her hand warm and comforting as it rests on my arm. ¡°Oh, Adam,¡± she sighs. ¡°I can¡¯t even imagine what you¡¯re going through right now.¡± The room falls into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of the hospital beyond our door. Suddenly, something Jessica said earlier clicks in my mind. ¡°Wait,¡± I say, my brow furrowing. ¡°Did you say you don¡¯t like my wife?¡± Jessica tenses again, her hand withdrawing from my arm. ¡°There¡¯s stuff she never told you about,¡± Jessica says hesitantly, each word seeming to pain her. ¡°She was in debt. She had to borrow a lot of money from me, and I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll ever pay me back.¡± I blink, trying to process this new information. ¡°That¡¯s nuts.¡± Jessica sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair. ¡°I promised her back then I wouldn¡¯t tell you that either,¡± she admits. ¡°But I think that was a bad idea now.¡± ¡°Is she still in debt?¡± I ask, my mind reeling from all this new information. Jessica shrugs, her eyes distant. ¡°Fuck if I know,¡± she says with a bitter laugh. ¡°Claire is so cagey about everything. Trying to get a straight answer out of her is like trying to nail jello to a wall.¡± I lean back against the pillows, staring up at the stark white ceiling. ¡°Was I in love with her?¡± I ask, wanting to learn more about other Adam. Jessica rolls her eyes so hard I¡¯m worried they might get stuck. ¡°Oh god, you were madly in love with her in high school,¡± she groans. ¡°Always fawning over her, writing her these sappy love poems. It was honestly kind of nauseating.¡± She pauses, a wistful look crossing her face. ¡°And then, in college, you two lived together. You were so happy when you got married. I remember thinking at your wedding that I¡¯d never seen you smile so much.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t know,¡± she says slowly, each word seeming to pain her. ¡°You both seemed pretty distant once you got married. It was like the spark had gone out, you know? You stopped talking about her all the time, stopped gushing about how amazing she was.¡± I nod slowly, trying to reconcile this information with the Claire I¡¯ve come to know over the past few days. ¡°Well,¡± I say hesitantly, ¡°I can¡¯t just divorce someone because I don¡¯t remember them. If I fell in love once, I¡¯m sure I could again. This is a really strange situation, after all.¡± Jessica leans forward, her green eyes intense. ¡°You might get your memories back, too,¡± she says, a note of hope in her voice. ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± I reply, knowing full well that won¡¯t happen. Just then, we hear the door open. I turn, expecting to see Claire¡¯s familiar face. Instead, we see Caterina stride in. Her long blonde hair cascades down her back in perfect waves, and those piercing red eyes seem to glow in the harsh fluorescent light. My heart skips a beat as I remember the vivid dream from a few nights ago, heat rising to my cheeks. Jessica stiffens beside me, her eyes widening in surprise and confusion. Caterina¡¯s lips curve into a predatory smile as she saunters towards my bed. ¡°Hello, Adam. I hope I¡¯m not interrupting anything important.¡± I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of how thin the hospital gown is. ¡°N-no, not at all,¡± I stammer, cursing internally at how flustered I sound. ¡°Cat, this is my sister Jessica. Jess, this is Cat, Claire¡¯s boss.¡± Jessica¡¯s brow furrows in confusion. ¡°Cat?¡± she repeats, her tone questioning. Caterina licks her lips, her eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°Oh, isn¡¯t that a nice nickname?¡± she purrs. ¡°I quite like it.¡± I feel more heat rising to my cheeks as memories of the vivid dream from a few nights ago flood back. In my mind¡¯s eye, I see those crimson eyes gazing up at me hungrily, feel the phantom sensation of her lips wrapped around my cock. My heart races, and I stammer, ¡°Ah, I meant to say Caterina. Sorry about that.¡± Caterina waves a perfectly manicured hand dismissively. ¡°No, no, I love it,¡± she says, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯d prefer you call me anyway, Adam.¡± The way she says my name sends a shiver down my spine. I shift uncomfortably in the bed, hoping neither woman notices my growing erection. Jessica¡¯s eyes widen in recognition. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m meeting Caterina De Luca,¡± she breathes, awe evident in her voice. ¡°You¡¯re a big deal.¡± Caterina smiles. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not a big deal,¡± Caterina says, waving her hand dismissively. ¡°I prefer to keep to the shadows these days, especially since we opened the casino.¡± Jessica nods, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and wariness. ¡°Claire mentioned you were her boss, but I kind of thought she was exaggerating,¡± she admits, her voice tinged with disbelief. Caterina chuckles. When she speaks, her voice drips with mock sweetness. ¡°Claire can be a bit... unreliable at times.¡± Caterina¡¯s eyes flick to me, and her expression softens slightly. ¡°I¡¯m kidding, of course,¡± she coos, but the smile doesn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. I chuckle awkwardly, the sound hollow and forced. The tension in the room is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. ¡°Uh, so what brings you here?¡± I ask, desperate to change the subject. Caterina¡¯s lips curve into a smile. ¡°Oh, I was just in the building and figured I¡¯d check in on my star employee¡¯s husband.¡± As she speaks, her crimson eyes rake over me, their gaze almost manic in its intensity. Her stare lingers on my chest, then slowly travels lower, igniting a trail of heat in its wake. ¡°Oh, well, thank you,¡± I say. Caterina takes a step closer. ¡°Is there anything at all I could do to make your stay more comfortable?¡± she asks, her tone dripping with what feels like genuine concern. I laugh nervously, trying to diffuse the tension crackling in the air. ¡°Well, if you could find me my phone because I¡¯m bored out of my mind,¡± I joke weakly. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see a flash of triumph in Caterina¡¯s eyes, like I just gave her a mission in life. But it¡¯s gone so quickly I¡¯m not sure if I imagined it. I quickly backtrack. ¡°No, but thank you,¡± I say with a forced chuckle. ¡°I appreciate the offer.¡± Caterina¡¯s eyes light up, a mischievous glint sparkling in their crimson depths. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure I have a phone somewhere lying around,¡± she says, her voice filled with enthusiasm. ¡°I could have one brought over in no time.¡± ¡°No, that was just a joke,¡± I say quickly. ¡°I¡¯m not sure my wife would want me taking a phone from her boss.¡± Caterina nods. ¡°Right, right,¡± she says, but her tone suggests she hasn¡¯t really registered my words at all. Suddenly, as if snapping out of a trance, Caterina turns to Jessica. Her movement is unnaturally fluid, almost serpentine. ¡°Well, it was nice meeting you, I should probably take my leave.¡± Jessica stands up, smoothing out her skirt. ¡°It was nice meeting you too, Ms. De Luca.¡± Caterina nods graciously, her golden hair catching the harsh fluorescent light and seeming to glow. As she turns to leave, her crimson eyes lock onto mine one last time. I raise my hand in a weak wave. ¡°Bye, Cat,¡± I say, immediately regretting the familiarity. ¡°Goodbye, Adam.¡± As soon as the door shuts, Jessica collapses back into her chair, letting out a long, shaky breath. ¡°I can¡¯t believe Claire actually knows her,¡± she says, her eyes wide with disbelief. I nod, still feeling a bit dazed from Caterina¡¯s presence. ¡°Is she a big deal?¡± Jessica leans forward, her voice jumping to an excited tone. ¡°She spearheaded getting a casino in Boston,¡± she says, her words tumbling out in a rush. ¡°She was able to get it in despite all the red tape. People were really surprised.¡± I let out a low whistle. ¡°She sure seems like something else.¡± A/n: This isn''t how Caterina is dressed but its her general vibe. Chapter 4: Birkin Bag Today¡¯s the day I was finally released. ¡®Sweet freedom. No more boredom. No more weird-ass hospital TV with their weird-ass shows about weird guys doing girly stuff.¡¯ Claire pulls into the driveway of an unfamiliar house, the tires crunching softly on the gravel. I peer out the window, taking in the quaint ranch-style home before us. It¡¯s not huge, but it has a certain charm to it, white siding with navy blue shutters, a small covered porch with a swing gently swaying in the breeze. The lawn is neatly manicured, with colorful flower beds lining the front of the house. ¡°I can¡¯t believe we live in Revere,¡± I say a hint of disbelief in my voice. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Claire laughs as she unbuckles her seatbelt and opens her door. ¡°That¡¯s what you used to say, too,¡± she replies, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips. I laugh for a moment. Before I can reach for the door handle, Claire is there, opening the passenger side door for me. I blink in surprise, caught off guard by the gesture. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that,¡± I say, feeling a bit awkward as I step out of the car. Claire¡¯s eyes twinkle with amusement. ¡°What, was chivalry dead in your coma dream?¡± she chuckles, her voice light and teasing. I laugh, assuming she¡¯s being sarcastic. ¡°Yeah, I guess so,¡± I reply, playing along. We make our way up the short path to the front door. Claire fumbles with her keys for a moment before unlocking it and pushing it open. The hinges creak slightly as we step inside. The interior is cozy and lived-in. The walls are painted a soft beige, adorned with framed photos and artwork. To the left, I can see a small living room with a plush couch and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. To the right, there¡¯s a dining area with a round wooden table and mismatched chairs. Straight ahead, a narrow hallway leads deeper into the house. I stretch my arms over my head, feeling my muscles protest after days of inactivity. ¡°I cannot fucking wait to take a shower in a home,¡± I groan, relishing the thought of hot water and privacy. Claire walks next to me. ¡°To be honest, the shower in the hospital was probably nicer,¡± she says with a wry smile. I shake my head. ¡°But it¡¯s like a hotel shower, you know? I don¡¯t know how many people have used it.¡± Claire nods, her eyes lighting up with understanding. ¡°True,¡± she says, coming up close to me. There¡¯s a hesitancy in her movements like she¡¯s not quite sure how to act around me. She fidgets with the hem of her shirt, her eyes darting around nervously. I smile, trying to put her at ease. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Uhh...¡± Claire starts her voice barely above a whisper. She takes a deep breath as if steeling herself. ¡°We actually usually shower together.¡± The words tumble out in a rush, and she immediately looks away, her cheeks flushing pink. There¡¯s something off about her tone, a slight quaver that makes me wonder if she¡¯s being entirely truthful. I feel heat rising to my own cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through me. ¡°Is that something you¡¯d want to do?¡± I ask, my voice coming out huskier than I intended. Claire¡¯s head snaps up, her eyes wide with surprise. She seems taken aback by my willingness as if she hadn¡¯t expected me to agree so readily. After a moment of stunned silence, she nods emphatically, a smile spreading across her face. ¡°We¡¯re married, so it¡¯s normal, right?¡± I say with a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. Claire¡¯s eyes widen slightly, and she lets out a laugh that sounds just a bit forced. ¡°Of course it is,¡± she says, but there¡¯s an odd note in her voice as if the idea is somehow novel or surprising to her. ¡°Hey, let me shower alone for five minutes, okay?¡± I say, running a hand through my greasy hair. ¡°I just want to wash the smell of the hospital off first.¡± ¡°Yes! Of course!¡± she exclaims, her voice pitched higher than usual. ¡°Take all the time you need! I¡¯ll just... Uhhh¡­ Just call for me whenever you want!¡± She¡¯s practically vibrating with energy, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. It¡¯s as if she¡¯s afraid that if she says the wrong thing or moves too suddenly, I¡¯ll take back my offer to shower together afterward. I blink, taken aback by her enthusiasm. ¡°Uh, okay,¡± I say slowly. ¡°I¡¯ll just be a few minutes then.¡± As I head towards the bathroom, I can feel Claire¡¯s eyes following me, her gaze almost physical in its intensity. I glance back over my shoulder to see her still standing in the same spot, watching me with an expression of mingled hope and anxiety. I strip off my clothes, feeling a sense of relief as I shed the last remnants of the hospital. The bathroom is small but clean, with pale blue tiles and a frosted glass shower door. As I step into the shower and turn on the water, I let out a contented sigh. The hot spray hits my skin, and I can almost feel the tension of the past weeks washing away. I close my eyes, tilting my face up into the stream. The water cascades over me, enveloping me in its warmth. It¡¯s like a baptism, cleansing me of my old life and welcoming me into this new one. For the first time since waking up in the hospital, I feel truly present in my body, grounded in this reality. As I lather up with soap, my mind wanders to Claire. I picture her waiting just outside, perhaps pacing nervously or fidgeting with anticipation. The thought sends a jolt of excitement through me, and I feel myself starting to get hard. I glance down at my erection, a mix of guilt and arousal swirling in my gut. Part of me feels like I¡¯m betraying the other Adam, the one whose life I¡¯ve stepped into. But another part argues that this is my life now, my wife. I have a responsibility to her, to us, to at least try to make this work. As I rinse off the soap, I make a decision. I¡¯m going to embrace this new life, this new me. Claire deserves a husband who will give their relationship a real chance. And who knows? Maybe I¡¯ll grow to love her as much as the other Adam did. ¡®We will have to talk about the money she owes Jessica, but that doesn¡¯t have to be today.¡¯ I take a deep breath. ¡°Claire?¡± I call out, my voice echoing slightly in the bathroom. ¡°I¡¯m ready if you are.¡± ¡°Coming!¡± Claire¡¯s voice calls back, a mix of excitement and nervousness evident in her tone. The bathroom door creaks open slowly. Claire steps in, her body completely bare. She¡¯s petite and lithe, with small breasts and delicate curves. Her skin is pale and smooth, dotted with a few freckles here and there. Short chestnut hair frames her face, accentuating her warm brown eyes. She¡¯s not exactly my usual type, but there¡¯s an undeniable cuteness to her. Her body may be slight, but it¡¯s toned and graceful. As she joins me in the shower, I can see a faint blush spreading across her cheeks and chest. Claire¡¯s eyes roam over my body, drinking in every detail. Her gaze lingers on my chest before traveling lower, finally stopping at my erect cock. A smile spreads across her face, her eyes lighting up with pleasure and a hint of pride. ¡°You¡¯re so hard for me,¡± she says softly, her voice filled with warmth and affection. I feel heat rising to my cheeks. ¡°I guess my body is anticipating you,¡± I reply with a nervous chuckle. Claire¡¯s eyes flash with sudden intensity. Before I can react, she lunges forward, pressing her body against mine and pushing me back against the cool tile wall. Water cascades over us as she turns around, her back to my chest. ¡°Whoa,¡± I gasped, caught off guard by her boldness. Claire reaches between her legs, grasping my cock and guiding it to her entrance. The head of my shaft brushes against her slick folds. ¡°Oh shit, do we need a condom?¡± I ask hurriedly. Claire glances over her shoulder, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. ¡°No, we¡¯re married, honey,¡± she purrs. ¡°I didn¡¯t know if you were ovulating or...¡± Before I can finish, Claire pushes back, impaling herself on my length in one swift motion. I let out a strangled moan as her heat envelops me. ¡°I¡¯m on the pill,¡± Claire says with a breathy laugh. She starts to move, rocking her hips back and forth. As Claire moves back and forth, I grab her hips and start thrusting myself. Her eyes widen in surprise as she moans and says, ¡°You¡¯re not usually this eager.¡± I pause, uncertain. ¡°Do you want me to slow down?¡± She smiles and speeds herself up. ¡°No,¡± she breathes. I kiss her neck as we move together under the warm spray of the shower. The bathroom fills with the sounds of our lovemaking, skin sliding against skin, breathless moans, the steady patter of water. Claire¡¯s body trembles against mine. ¡°Fuck,¡± she gasps, her inner walls clenching around me as she starts to climax. I make sure to hold her firmly so she doesn¡¯t slip on the wet tile. Watching her come undone throws me over the edge. With a guttural groan, I bury myself deep inside her as the bliss of blowing my load into this lithe body embraces me. We cling to each other, shuddering through the aftershocks. As our breathing slowly returns to normal, Claire turns in my arms and kisses me deeply. When we finally break apart, she looks up at me with wonder in her eyes. ¡°That was amazing,¡± she whispers. ¡®But we were both such quick shots.¡¯ I think to myself, embarrassed with my overall performance. ¡®But it¡¯s nice it was both of us.¡¯ As Claire presses against me, her eyes widen in surprise as she feels my dick hardening all over again. ¡°Oh,¡± she breathes, a hint of excitement in her voice. ¡°You¡¯re still...?¡± ¡°Yeah, I guess I am,¡± I reply. Claire¡¯s lips curve into a sultry smile. She runs her hands down my chest, her touch feather-light and teasing. ¡°Do you want to take this to the bedroom?¡± she purrs, her voice low and inviting. I swallow hard, my heart racing. ¡°I¡¯d love to.¡± Claire¡¯s eyes light up with excitement. She quickly rinses off and steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel. I follow suit, my eyes roaming over her body form as she dries herself off. ***** I¡¯m laying in Claire¡¯s arms, her soft breath tickling my neck as she dozes. The sex was incredible, intense, passionate, and surprisingly kinky. Claire took charge in a way I never expected, pinning me down and riding me with wild abandon. It was like something straight out of one of those femdom stories I loved to read online. ¡®How do I get her to rape me though?¡¯ I wonder into the abyss. As amazing as it felt in the moment, now I¡¯m left feeling confused. Is she really cool with me being in her arms. Like this is a vibe and a half but is this what she wants? ¡®She chose it. She led.¡¯ I posit to myself. The doorbell rings, its shrill chime shattering the peaceful silence. Claire flutters awake, her eyelashes brushing against my neck as she blinks sleepily. ¡°Hmm, who¡¯s that?¡± she mumbles, her voice thick with drowsiness. We reluctantly disentangle ourselves from each other¡¯s embrace. Claire slides out of bed, the sheets whispering against her skin as she moves. She grabs a simple shirt and pants from the closet. I throw on just my pants, not bothering with a shirt. As I¡¯m about to head for the door, Claire¡¯s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist in a panic. Her fingers are like a vice, digging into my skin with surprising strength. ¡°You can¡¯t get the door like that!¡± she hisses, her eyes wide with alarm. I stare at her, confusion furrowing my brow. ¡°Like what?¡± Claire¡¯s gaze darts nervously between my bare chest and the bedroom door. ¡°With your shirt off,¡± she explains, her voice strained and urgent. I blink, utterly baffled by her reaction. It seems like such a strange thing to be worried about. But the fear in her eyes is real, almost palpable. ¡°Okay, sure,¡± I say slowly, deciding it¡¯s easier to just go along with her wishes than to argue. I rummage through a nearby drawer, finding a plain white t-shirt and pulling it over my head. Claire visibly relaxes as soon as I¡¯m fully clothed, the tension draining from her shoulders. She gives me a quick, grateful smile before hurrying towards the front door. I follow Claire down the hallway, my bare feet padding softly on the cool hardwood floor. ¡®Fuck I gotta get socks pronto.¡¯ Claire reaches for the doorknob, her hand hesitating for just a moment before turning it. The door swings open, revealing a striking woman standing on our porch. She has short black hair, and she¡¯s wearing a white tailored suit that screams power and money. The woman is holding a large shopping bag, the kind you¡¯d get from a high-end boutique. It¡¯s made of thick, glossy paper with rope handles, and I can see the edges of tissue paper peeking out from the top. Claire¡¯s reaction is immediate and visceral. All the color drains from her face, leaving her looking pale and sickly. Her eyes widen in shock, and I can see her throat working as she swallows hard. ¡°Maddy?¡± Claire gasps. ¡°I thought... I thought I had more time.¡± Maddy raises an eyebrow, her expression full of concern. ¡°No, no,¡± she says, her voice smooth and controlled. ¡°I¡¯m not here for any of that.¡± Claire¡¯s shoulders sag with relief, but there¡¯s still tension in her stance, like a cornered animal ready to bolt at any moment. Maddy¡¯s gaze shifts to me, her green eyes assessing me with cool detachment. ¡°The boss sent me over to give your husband these two things,¡± she explains, reaching into the shopping bag. With a flourish, she pulls out a sleek, brand-new iPhone. It¡¯s the latest model. God only knows how much it¡¯s worth. She hands it to me. ¡°It¡¯s all set up and good to go.¡± She says. I look over to Claire, my brow furrowed in concern. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can accept this,¡± I say to Maddy, holding the iPhone gingerly as if it might bite me. Claire has a look of resignation on her face. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± I ask, searching her eyes for any hint of what she¡¯s really feeling. She nods, a sadness creeping into her expression. ¡°Yeah,¡± she says softly, not quite meeting my gaze. Maddy reaches back into the shopping bag, pulling out what looks like a purse. It looks a little expensive, but I¡¯d never know. ¡®Oh, that¡¯s nice. Caterina must have gotten Claire a purse.¡¯ Claire¡¯s eyes widen as she stares at the bag, her mouth falling open slightly. ¡®Oh, it must be a nice one.¡¯ Maddy holds the bag out to me. ¡°The boss wanted you to have a Birkin bag,¡± she says with a confident ease. I blink in confusion. ¡°A purse?¡± I ask, taking the bag from her. It¡¯s heavier than I expected. ¡°Yeah,¡± Maddy confirms with a nod. ¡°For me?¡± I ask. ¡°Yeah,¡± Maddy nods again with a smile. ¡°Um, thank you,¡± I say to Maddy, feeling incredibly awkward. ¡°Please tell your boss we appreciate the gifts.¡± Maddy nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. ¡°Will do,¡± she says. ¡°Take care, you two.¡± With that, she turns and walks back to her car, a sleek black sedan parked at the curb. As soon as Maddy¡¯s car pulls away, Claire shuts the door, leaning against it as if she needs the support to stay upright. She¡¯s trembling slightly, her eyes fixed on the Birkin bag in my hands. ¡°Claire?¡± I ask gently, concerned by her reaction. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Claire¡¯s eyes widen in disbelief, her mouth falling open. ¡°Aren¡¯t you happy?¡± she asks, her tone tinged with annoyance. I glance down at the iPhone in my hand, then back up at Claire. ¡°For the phone? I guess,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s nice, but I feel a bit weird accepting such an expensive gift from your boss.¡± Claire¡¯s brow furrows, her eyes narrowing. ¡°What? No, the Birkin bag!¡± she exclaims, gesturing wildly at the purse in my other hand. I look at the bag, then back at Claire, confusion etched across my face. ¡°The purse? Uhh... I don¡¯t want it,¡± I say hesitantly. ¡°It would suit you a lot more.¡± Claire¡¯s jaw drops, her eyes bulging in shock. ¡°What?¡± she sputters, her voice rising in pitch. ¡°Why would I want a purse?¡± Now, it¡¯s my turn to be confused. I stare at her, baffled by her reaction. ¡°You don¡¯t like purses?¡± I ask slowly, trying to make sense of the situation. Claire throws her hands up in exasperation. ¡°I¡¯m a woman! Why would I like purses?¡± she snaps, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I blink rapidly, feeling like I¡¯ve stepped into some bizarre alternate reality. ¡°What?¡± ¡°What?¡± Claire echoes, her tone equally bewildered. We stand there for a moment, staring at each other in mutual confusion. The silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, I break it, gesturing at the bag in my hand. ¡°Is this bag special or something?¡± I ask tentatively. Claire¡¯s eyes narrow, her expression a mixture of disbelief and frustration. ¡°It¡¯s a Birkin bag,¡± she says slowly as if explaining something to a child. I tilt my head, still not understanding. ¡°What¡¯s a Birkin bag?¡± I ask. Claire¡¯s mouth falls open again, her eyes wide with shock. She stares at me for a long moment, her expression a kaleidoscope of emotions, disbelief, frustration, and something that looks almost like fear. ¡°You... you don¡¯t know what a Birkin bag is?¡± she says, seemingly feeling better. ¡°I don¡¯t like purses,¡± I say, lost in the sauce. ¡°Huh? No, you love purses.¡± She speaks as though I claimed 9/11 was done by George Bush. ¡°Nah.¡± I retort. We sit in silence for a while. I decide to just shoot my shot because we¡¯ve already done it a bunch. ¡°Do you want to go fuck again?¡± I ask while praying to based god in my mind palace. Claire eagerly grabs my wrist and leads me to the bedroom. ¡°Obviously.¡± A/N: Maddy Sullivan Chapter 5: Please Stop Going Beast Mode In The Discord The morning sun filtering through the curtains feels warm on my face as I sit on the edge of the bed, watching Claire get ready for work. I can¡¯t help but feel a pang of sadness as I watch her. Last night was incredible, hours of passionate lovemaking that left us both breathless and exhausted. But now, in the harsh light of day, I¡¯m reminded of the strange situation I¡¯ve found myself in. This woman, my supposed wife, is still essentially a stranger to me. ¡°I¡¯m gonna miss you,¡± I say softly, the words feeling both true and false at the same time. Claire pauses, her hand hovering over her collar. She turns to me, a gentle smile playing on her lips. As she unpops her collar, she says, ¡°Honey, you¡¯re still recovering. Why don¡¯t you go back to bed?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t feel tired.¡± I say. Her eyes sparkle with a mixture of affection and concern. ¡°You were insatiable last night,¡± she adds, a hint of pride in her voice. ¡°I¡¯ve never felt so wanted before.¡± I feel heat rising to my cheeks, memories of our passionate night flooding back. ¡°Yeah, it was... intense.¡± Claire¡¯s smile widens, a mischievous glint in her eye. ¡°It certainly was,¡± she purrs. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had it in you.¡± Claire finishes buttoning her blouse and smooths out the fabric, her movements precise and practiced. She turns to me, her warm brown eyes searching my face. ¡°What are you gonna do for the day?¡± she asks, her tone casual but tinged with curiosity. I run a hand through my disheveled hair, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle on my shoulders. ¡°I honestly have no idea,¡± I admit, my voice soft and a little lost. Claire¡¯s expression softens, a mixture of sympathy and understanding crossing her features. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my arm in a gesture of comfort. ¡°Well, there¡¯s plenty of food in the house,¡± she says, her voice taking on a reassuring tone. ¡°And I gave you my number if you have an emergency.¡± I nod, grateful for the information, even as I feel a twinge of embarrassment at needing such basic instructions. ¡°Yes,¡± I reply, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll try to get my bearings.¡± Claire leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. The gesture is tender, filled with an affection I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve earned. ¡°Alright then,¡± she murmurs as she pulls away. She heads towards the door. Her shoes click against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing in the quiet house. As she reaches for the doorknob, she pauses, turning back to me. ¡°I¡¯m leaving now,¡± she says, her voice carrying a hint of reluctance. ¡°Goodbye,¡± I respond, watching as she opens the door, letting in a sliver of the bright morning sun. Claire hesitates in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the golden light. ¡°I love you,¡± she says softly, the words hanging in the air between us. I don¡¯t say it back. I can¡¯t. The words stick in my throat, refusing to come out. It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t care for her. I do, in a way. But love? I hardly know her. That feels like too much, too soon. Too dishonest. Claire¡¯s face falls almost imperceptibly at my silence, a flicker of hurt crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smile. ¡°See you tonight,¡± she says, her voice slightly strained, and then she¡¯s gone, the door clicking shut behind her. I sit in the empty house, the silence pressing in around me. The weight of Claire¡¯s unreciprocated ¡°I love you¡± hangs in the air, making me feel like an imposter in someone else¡¯s life. ¡®Well, I am, so that¡¯s fair.¡¯ With a sigh, I grab my phone. It¡¯s set up, but I don¡¯t know any of my accounts or anything, so it¡¯s like starting life from scratch. I don¡¯t even open it. I just stare at the blank screen, my reflection distorted in the glass. ¡°Might as well get out of the house,¡± I mutter to myself. ¡°Sitting here feeling sorry for myself isn¡¯t gonna help.¡± I remember seeing a subway stop not far from here when Claire drove us home. I could head into Boston, maybe walk around a bit, try to get my heading in this new life. ¡°Shoot, I¡¯ve got no money, though,¡± I realize, patting my empty pockets. I head into our bedroom to see if I keep money anywhere or even a wallet. It seems all that stuff got stolen during the attack. I¡¯m rummaging through drawers when I notice the Birkin bag sitting open on the dresser. I peer inside, curiosity getting the better of me. To my surprise, there¡¯s a thick envelope tucked inside. I pull it out, my eyes widening as I see what¡¯s inside. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I whisper, thumbing through the stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills. There must be thousands of dollars here. ¡°Well, there¡¯s no fucking way I can just accept this cash,¡± I mutter to myself, shoving the envelope back into the bag. I pace around the bedroom, running my hands through my hair. This is insane. Who gives someone they barely know a bag full of cash? And why would Caterina give this to me, her employee¡¯s husband? But then I remember Claire¡¯s reaction when I tried to refuse the gifts. She seemed resigned, almost afraid. Like refusing wasn¡¯t an option. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s something I¡¯m missing here,¡± I say to the empty room. I look at the bag again. I really look at it this time. It¡¯s beautifully crafted, the leather supple, and clearly expensive. I¡¯ve never been into fashion, but even I can tell this is high-end. ¡°I know some purses can go for like two thousand,¡± I muse, picking up my new phone. I open the browser and type ¡°Birkin bag price¡± into the search bar. As the results load, my eyes widen, and my jaw literally drops open. ¡°WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?¡± I exclaim, my voice echoing through the empty house. The minimum price for a Birkin bag is $20,000. MINIMUM. Some of them go for over $100,000. I can¡¯t tell which one mine is. ¡®I don¡¯t even want the damn thing.¡¯ And Claire must have known that. She didn¡¯t even bat an eye when her boss¡¯s lackey handed me a bag potentially worth more than most cars. I sink down onto the bed, my mind reeling. Claire didn¡¯t try to stop me from accepting a gift worth tens of thousands of dollars from her boss. What kind of relationship does she have with Caterina? What kind of power does this woman hold over my wife? ¡°How could Claire owe my sister money if Caterina is this kind of person.¡± I wonder. ¡°I guess I can take the cash then,¡± I say weakly, ¡°if Claire let me take a purse worth a small fortune, It¡¯s not like it really matters at that point.¡± I reach into the bag and pull out the envelope again, the weight of the cash heavy in my hands. As I do, I notice something else inside the bag, a small, folded note tucked into an inner pocket. With trembling fingers, I unfold it, revealing elegant handwriting in deep red ink: ¡°What the fuck is going on here?¡± I whisper, reading and re-reading the note until the elegant red script blurs before my eyes. ¡°Is she hitting on me?¡± I pace around the bedroom, the note clutched in my hand. My mind is racing, trying to make sense of this bizarre situation. Caterina De Luca, a statuesque blonde goddess with strong red eyes who apparently owns a casino and can casually gift bags worth potetnailly more than my old student loans, was loving up on me? ¡°This makes no fucking sense,¡± I mutter, running a hand through my hair. ¡°She¡¯s literally better than my dream girl. Women like that don¡¯t go for guys like me.¡± I stop in front of the mirror, studying my reflection. I¡¯m not ugly by any means, average height, average build, decent face. But I¡¯m certainly not in the league of someone who can destroy Hiroshima with her tits. ¡°I wonder if Claire is aware,¡± I stare, staring at the note again. ¡°Does she know her boss is trying to seduce her husband?¡± I think back to Claire¡¯s reaction when Maddy delivered the gifts. She hadn¡¯t seemed surprised, just resigned. ¡°There¡¯s something really weird going on here,¡± I decide, folding the note and shoving it into my pocket. ¡°I need to tell Claire tonight. This isn¡¯t normal boss-employee behavior. I can¡¯t just cheat on my new wife. I want to be a man of honor in this new world.¡± ¡®I mean, it¡¯s not like I wasn¡¯t honorable before.¡¯ I turn back to the Birkin bag, eyeing the envelope full of cash. Taking all of it feels dangerous. I¡¯d hate to get mugged again and lose it all. ¡°Just a few hundreds,¡± I say, pulling out seven crisp bills and tucking them into an empty wallet i found. ¡°Any more would make me nervous.¡± I put the envelope back in the Birkin bag and close it, feeling like I¡¯m hiding evidence of a crime. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, I tuck the bag into the back of the closet, behind some boxes where it won¡¯t be immediately visible. ¡°Out of sight, out of mind,¡± I mumble, though I know the knowledge of its existence will continue to gnaw at me. I rummage through the drawers in the entryway until I find a small ceramic dish containing a few keys. I pick one that looks like it might be a spare house key and slip it into my pocket alongside the wallet with my borrowed cash. As I step outside and lock the door, the warm early fall air hits my face, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant aroma of someone grilling. I take a deep breath, relishing the feeling of freedom after being cooped up in the hospital for so long. ¡°Oh, Adam! Good morning!¡± I turn toward the cheerful voice, spotting a woman in the yard next door. She¡¯s pushing a lawn mower across her perfectly manicured lawn, wearing shorts that barely contain her generous curves and a tank top that¡¯s stretched tight across her ample chest. Her auburn hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face, which is flushed from exertion. I sigh, my eyes widening slightly at the sight of her. ¡°Is everyone in this world built like a fucking succubus?¡± I whisper under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief. The woman pauses, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her movements are almost hypnotic, drawing attention to the swell of her breasts with each motion. I walk over to the low fence separating our properties, plastering a friendly smile on my face. ¡°Good morning,¡± I call out, raising a hand in greeting. ¡®God, I hope she¡¯s not a Karen.¡¯ She abandons her lawn mower and approaches the fence, her hips swaying with each step. Up close, I can see she¡¯s probably in her mid-forties, with laugh lines around her eyes that only add to her appeal. ¡°I heard you were in the hospital from your wife,¡± she says, concern etched across her features. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± ¡°Yeah, I, uhh, have memory issues,¡± I admit. ¡°It¡¯s been a bit of an adjustment.¡± Her eyes widen with sympathy. ¡°Oh, you poor thing,¡± she coos, reaching across the fence to place a comforting hand on my arm. Her touch lingers just a bit too long to be purely neighborly. ¡°Do you remember me at all?¡± I shake my head apologetically. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Veronica,¡± she says with a warm smile. ¡°We¡¯ve been neighbors for about a year now. We always talk about having a glass of wine together but have yet to had the chance. Perhaps today?¡± She says in a flirty way. I chuckle awkwardly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m actually going out right now,¡± I say, taking a small step back from the fence. Veronica¡¯s perfectly shaped eyebrows rise, her green eyes flicking to my driveway. ¡°But your wife¡¯s car is gone,¡± she points out, her voice tinged with confusion. ¡°How are you planning to get around?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just going to walk to the subway,¡± I explain with a shrug. ¡°Figured I¡¯d head into the city.¡± ¡°What?¡± Veronica exclaims, her eyes widening in concern. She places a hand on her chest, drawing my attention to her ample cleavage. ¡°On your own? It¡¯s a half mile away!¡± I blink at her, genuinely confused by her reaction. ¡°What? It¡¯s fine,¡± I say with a dismissive wave. ¡°In fact, isn¡¯t that so great? That¡¯s like the perfect distance to get a little walk in, too.¡± Veronica looks at me like I¡¯ve just suggested killing John Lennon. Her brow furrows, and she bites her lower lip, a gesture that somehow manages to be both concerned and oddly seductive. ¡°How about I drive you over?¡± she offers, already reaching for her back pocket as if to grab her keys. ¡°It¡¯s really no trouble at all.¡± I try to weasel out of Veronica¡¯s offer as politely as possible. ¡°That¡¯s really nice of you, but I don¡¯t want to interrupt your lawn mowing. Besides, I could use the exercise after being cooped up in that hospital bed for so long.¡± Veronica doesn¡¯t seem convinced. She props one hand on her hip, causing her tank top to ride up slightly and reveal a strip of tanned midriff. ¡°Adam, I really don¡¯t think you should be wandering around on your own just yet. What if something happens? What if you get confused?¡± I¡¯m about to respond when the quiet morning air is shattered by the purr of an expensive engine. We both turn to see a gleaming Rolls Royce Phantom gliding down our suburban street, looking as out of place as a gun in a school toilet. The vehicle is midnight black, its chrome accents catching the morning sun and throwing back blinding flashes of light. The Phantom slows to a stop directly in front of our houses, its massive presence dominating the modest street. For a moment, all is silent except for the soft idle of the engine, which sounds more like a contented cat¡¯s purr than a machine. Then, with theatrical slowness, the rear window slides down. Caterina De Luca sits in the backseat, looking like she¡¯s stepped straight out of a dream. Her golden hair cascades over her shoulders in perfect waves, and she¡¯s wearing oversized sunglasses that cover half her face. Even through the dark lenses, I can feel the intensity of her gaze. She pulls the sunglasses down slightly, revealing those hypnotic crimson eyes. They lock onto mine with laser-like precision, and a slow smile spreads across her perfect lips. ¡°Oh, Adam,¡± she purrs, her voice carrying easily across the yard. ¡°Good to see you again.¡± I¡¯m frozen for a moment, caught like a deer in headlights. There¡¯s something almost predatory about the way she¡¯s looking at me as if I¡¯m a particularly delicious meal she can¡¯t wait to devour. Next to me, I can feel Veronica tense up. Her previously flirtatious demeanor has vanished, replaced by something that looks almost like fear. ¡°Sorry, Veronica,¡± I say, already backing away from the fence. ¡°I have to go talk with her.¡± Veronica nods quickly, her eyes darting nervously between me and the Rolls Royce. ¡°Of course,¡± she says, her voice several octaves higher than before. ¡°We¡¯ll catch up another time.¡± I flash her what I hope is a reassuring smile. ¡°Goodbye,¡± I call over my shoulder, already moving toward the idling car. I approach the Phantom, trying to hide my nervousness. The car is even more impressive up close. The paint is so perfectly black it seems to absorb the very sunlight around it. ¡°Good morning, Caterina,¡± I say, trying to sound casual. She chuckles, the sound low and melodious, but then her expression shifts. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows draw together slightly, creating the tiniest crease between them. Her red lips form a small, disappointed pout. ¡°Cat, remember?¡± she says, her tone almost annoyed, though there¡¯s a playfulness lurking beneath the surface. She taps one fingernail against the door frame, creating a soft clicking sound that somehow manages to convey impatience. ¡°Yes, sorry,¡± I reply. ¡°Good morning, Cat.¡± At this, she smiles wide, her entire face lighting up with genuine pleasure. The smile transforms her features from merely beautiful to breathtaking. ¡°Good morning, Adam,¡± she purrs, my name rolling off her tongue like she¡¯s savoring the taste of it. ¡°What¡¯re you doing here?¡± I ask. Cat sighs dramatically, the sound both theatrical and somehow elegant. She removes her sunglasses completely, hooking them into the neckline of her blouse. The movement draws my eyes briefly to her chest before I force my gaze back up to her face. ¡°Well, I thought I was supposed to meet your wife here,¡± she explains, waving a hand dismissively, ¡°but I forgot we had her head to the office this morning.¡± She pauses, her eyes traveling over my face and body in a slow, appreciative sweep that makes my skin tingle. ¡°And then I figured I¡¯d say hello.¡± ¡°Well, that was kind of you.¡± ¡°Where are you off to?¡± she asks. ¡°Oh, you know, around,¡± I reply vaguely, gesturing toward the general direction of the subway. Cat¡¯s lips curve into a knowing smile, revealing perfect white teeth. She leans forward slightly, the movement causing her blouse to shift, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. ¡°Hop in,¡± she says, patting the buttery leather seat beside her. ¡°I can drive you wherever you want to go.¡± Her voice drops to a whisper, intimate and inviting. ¡°I don¡¯t really have a destination,¡± I say, my fingers fidgeting with the wallet in my pocket, the wallet containing the cash she gave me. ¡°All the better,¡± Cat purrs, her smile widening to reveal a hint of perfectly white teeth. She shifts over slightly, making room for me on the plush leather seat. ¡®God, I would love to get in a car with a goddess like her. The thought is almost overwhelming. To be enclosed in that intimate space, surrounded by her scent, her presence. To have those crimson eyes focused solely on me. Literally, Dream Woman vibes. But I¡¯m a married man.¡¯ ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Cat,¡± I say, taking a step back from the car. ¡°I don¡¯t think that would be appropriate. I¡¯m a married man, after all.¡± The change in Cat¡¯s demeanor is instant and chilling. It¡¯s like watching a tropical paradise suddenly freeze over. The warmth in her crimson eyes vanishes, replaced by a cold, calculating glint that sends a shiver down my spine. Her smile, once inviting and seductive, hardens into something brittle and dangerous. ¡°Oh?¡± she says, her voice dropping several degrees. The single syllable hangs in the air between us like an icicle. ¡°I hope you know I would never do anything to you that would upset Claire,¡± Cat continues, each word precise and clipped, like shards of ice falling from her perfect lips. ¡°Of course,¡± I stammer awkwardly. Cat¡¯s gaze is penetrating, boring into me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. She stares at me for a full minute, the silence stretching between us like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for her reaction. I almost feel like im going to laugh for how awkward I feel. Finally, Cat breaks the silence. ¡°I just remembered I have a meeting to get to, Adam.¡± Her voice is flat, emotionless, a stark contrast to the sultry purr from moments ago. She slides her sunglasses back on, once again hiding those mesmerizing crimson eyes. The barrier makes her seem even more distant, unreachable. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll see you later,¡± she says, the words more statement than question. There¡¯s a finality to her tone that makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. ¡°Okay, have a nice day,¡± I reply. Cat doesn¡¯t respond. She simply nods once, a sharp, dismissive gesture, before pressing a button. The window slides up smoothly, cutting off any chance for further conversation. The last thing I see is my own reflection in the dark glass, looking small and uncertain. As the Rolls Royce pulls away, I sigh to myself, ¡°Well, that ruined the vibe.¡± I stand there for a moment, watching the space where the car had been, half expecting it to reappear. The whole encounter has left me feeling annoyed. ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± I mutter, running a hand through my hair. ¡°What is with that woman?¡± Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I glance over at Veronica¡¯s yard, but she¡¯s nowhere to be seen. Smart woman. She probably retreated inside the moment Cat pulled up, sensing the dangerous undercurrents in the air. With heavy steps, I trudge back toward my house, my earlier enthusiasm for exploration completely evaporated. I go back into the house. The silence inside is oppressive, pressing against my eardrums like cotton wool. I stand in the entryway for a long moment, listening to the soft hum of the refrigerator, the distant tick of a clock from somewhere deeper in the house. ¡°I¡¯m just gonna go watch YouTube in bed or something,¡± I announce to the empty house, my voice sounding hollow and strange in the stillness. ¡°The day¡¯s a total wash at this point.¡± Chapter 6: Disclosure I¡¯m lying on my stomach in bed with my legs up, eating Goldfish from a bowl. The tiny orange crackers make a satisfying crunch between my teeth as I chew loudly, eyes glued to the screen of my new iPhone. Hours have slipped away like water through fingers as I¡¯ve fallen down the rabbit hole of Elden Ring boss versus boss videos. ¡°Man, the DLC bosses are too strong,¡± I groan, shoving another handful of Goldfish into my mouth. ¡°This is so lame. Malenia should be at least number 2 next to Consort Radahn.¡± The moonlight slips in through the shades reminding me i should shut them soon. I sigh, clicking on ¡®Bayle the Dread vs. Radagon of the Golden Order. Gone sexual?¡¯ ¡°Radagon is gonna get his ass handed to him,¡± I mutter through a mouthful of Goldfish. I sigh, stretching a bit. ¡°Wait... ¡®gone sexual¡¯? What the fuck does that mean?¡± I squint at the title, puzzled by the clickbait. Before I can investigate further, I hear the front door opening, the creak of the hinges followed by the soft thud as it closes. ¡°Oh dope, Claire¡¯s home,¡± I say, relief washing over me at the thought of having company after a day of solitude. I¡¯m about to call out to her when I hear a strange noise coming from the living room, a muffled thump followed by what sounds like a struggle. Concerned, I roll off the bed, the bowl of Goldfish clutched protectively in one hand. ¡°Claire?¡± I call out, padding down the hallway. ¡°Everything okay?¡± As I round the corner into the living room, the scene before me freezes me in my tracks. Claire is on her knees, head bowed low. She¡¯s in tears. Caterina towers over her, one shoe planted firmly on Claire¡¯s back, pressing her down toward the floor. Off to the side stands Maddy, her face impassive, arms crossed over her chest. I stand there, frozen in shock, my brain struggling to process the bizarre scene before me. ¡°Woah, woah, woah, what the hell is going on?¡± I exclaim my mouth still full of Goldfish. Caterina¡¯s head snaps up at the sound of my voice, those crimson eyes locking onto mine with laser-like precision. She doesn¡¯t remove her foot from Claire¡¯s back. If anything, she seems to press down harder, causing Claire to whimper. ¡°Swallow and put the bowl down, alright, darling?¡± Caterina says smugly, her voice dripping with Honey even as her actions speak of violence. ¡°Okay,¡± I mumble, hastily swallowing the mouthful of Goldfish and setting the bowl down on the nearby coffee table with shaking hands. The crackers feel like sawdust in my throat as I force them down. ¡°Look, we don¡¯t want any trouble,¡± I say, holding my hands up in a placating gesture. My heart is hammering against my ribs so hard I¡¯m surprised the women can¡¯t hear it. Caterina¡¯s smile widens, revealing perfect white teeth that suddenly seem more predatory than beautiful. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve got it,¡± she purrs, pushing her shoe harder into Claire¡¯s back. The pressure forces Claire¡¯s face closer to the floor as she lets out a strangled sob. ¡°Claire!¡± I cry out, taking an instinctive step forward. Maddy shifts slightly at my movement, her hand drifting toward her jacket in a way that makes my blood run cold. Is she carrying a weapon? The thought freezes me in place, my muscles locking up with fear. Claire¡¯s face is twisted in anguish, tears streaming down her cheeks and pooling on the hardwood floor beneath her. Between sobs, she manages to choke out, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m so sorry.¡± The words seem directed at me rather than at the woman currently grinding a heel into her spine. Claire¡¯s eyes, red-rimmed and desperate, lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my stomach twist. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Adam,¡± she continues, her voice cracking with emotion. ¡°Please don¡¯t hate me. Please.¡± I feel like I¡¯ve stepped into some bizarre nightmare. My new wife is being physically restrained on our living room floor, begging for my forgiveness while I stand helplessly by. ¡°What happened?¡± I ask, directing the question at Caterina, my voice surprisingly steady despite the fear coursing through my veins. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes flash with annoyance, her perfect brow furrowing slightly. She clicks her tongue against her teeth, the sound sharp and disapproving in the tense silence of the room. ¡°I told you to call me Cat earlier, remember?¡± she says, her tone dripping with condescension as if I were a child who had failed to grasp a simple instruction. I swallow hard, forcing myself to slow down and think. Whatever game is being played here, it¡¯s clear that Caterina holds all the cards. If playing along with her bizarre demands will help defuse the situation, then that¡¯s what I¡¯ll do. ¡°Okay,¡± I say, deliberately slowing my words. ¡°Cat, what is going on?¡± The change in her demeanor is immediate and unsettling. Her annoyance melts away like snow in sunshine, replaced by a radiant smile that transforms her face. She seems genuinely pleased by my compliance, like a teacher whose troublesome student has finally grasped a difficult concept. ¡°There we go,¡± she purrs, her voice warm with approval. ¡°That wasn¡¯t so hard, was it?¡± Claire lets out another sob from her position on the floor, drawing my attention back to her pitiful state. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Adam,¡± she whimpers, her voice barely audible. ¡°Please don¡¯t hate me.¡± I kneel down to Claire¡¯s level, my knees hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud. From this angle, I can see the full extent of her misery. Her short brown hair disheveled. Her eyes are wide with terror and shame, like a wounded animal caught in a trap. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I say softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder. My fingers hover uncertainly for a moment before making contact with her quivering form. ¡°Whatever it is, we¡¯ll work it out.¡± The gentleness in my voice seems to make Claire cry even harder, her shoulders shaking violently with each sob. Caterina lets out a laugh. She removes her foot from Claire¡¯s back, allowing my wife to sit up slightly. ¡°Ask your wife what she¡¯s done, Adam,¡± Caterina suggests. She crosses her arms over her ample chest, her crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation as if she¡¯s watching a particularly entertaining show unfold before her. I turn back to Claire, trying to keep my expression supportive despite the fear and confusion swirling in my gut. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I repeat, my voice steady and reassuring. ¡°Tell me what happened.¡± Claire¡¯s face crumples anew, fresh tears welling up and spilling over. Her hands reach for mine, clutching them with desperate strength. Her palms are clammy with sweat, her fingers trembling against mine. ¡°I have a gambling problem,¡± she finally chokes out, the words seeming to physically pain her as they leave her lips. I feel surprised, but not that much so. I mean, I literally barely know her, and I already know she borrowed money from my sister. ¡°Okay,¡± I say simply, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. Claire stares at me, her eyes wide with disbelief at my calm reaction. ¡°Oh, is that all you¡¯re going to tell him, Claire?¡± she asks, her voice sharp with mock disappointment. ¡°Don¡¯t you think your husband deserves the whole truth?¡± Claire looks at me, her eyes swimming with shame and regret. ¡°I owe Caterina four hundred thousand dollars,¡± she confesses, each word seemingly ripped from her throat. The number hits me like a physical blow. Four hundred thousand. The amount is so absurd, so astronomical that it takes a moment for my brain to fully process it. ¡°Four... hundred... thousand?¡± I repeat slowly, the words feeling strange and unwieldy on my tongue. Claire nods miserably, her chin quivering. ¡°I kept losing,¡± she whispers, ¡°and I kept thinking I could win it back. But I just kept digging myself deeper and deeper.¡± I run a hand through my hair, trying to process this information. ¡®That¡¯s a lotta cheddar.¡¯ I sigh in my mind. And yet, as shocking as the revelation is, I find myself oddly calm. Growing up with an alcoholic father, I¡¯ve seen firsthand how addiction can warp a person¡¯s judgment, how it can make the irrational seem perfectly logical. The pattern is familiar, the secrecy, the shame, the escalating consequences. ¡®Addiction is a disease. Without treating it, she¡¯s powerless.¡¯ ¡°Alright,¡± I say softly, reaching out to rub Claire¡¯s back in small, comforting circles. ¡°We¡¯ll figure this out.¡± Claire stares at me, her expression a mixture of disbelief and desperate hope. ¡°You¡¯re not... you¡¯re not angry?¡± she asks, her voice cracking. ¡°I¡¯m surprised,¡± I admit, continuing the gentle motion of my hand on her back. ¡°But anger isn¡¯t going to help us right now.¡± Claire¡¯s face crumples completely at my words, and she breaks into fresh, heaving sobs. Her entire body shakes with the force of her anguish, making her seem smaller, more fragile than ever. ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± she chokes out between gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as if she can¡¯t bear to look at me. ¡°There¡¯s more, and it¡¯s so much worse.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I say, my voice steady despite the growing knot of dread in my stomach. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t get mad. Just tell me.¡± From the corner of my eye, I can see Caterina¡¯s expression darkening. My kindness seems to irritate her as if she was expecting, perhaps even hoping for, a dramatic explosion of anger. Her crimson eyes narrow slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line of disapproval. Claire looks to Caterina, her eyes wide with desperation. ¡°It¡¯s too much,¡± she whispers, her voice breaking. ¡°I can¡¯t tell him. I just can¡¯t.¡± Something shifts in Caterina¡¯s expression, a flash of triumph quickly masked by a veneer of sympathy that doesn¡¯t quite reach her crimson eyes. ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± she purrs, her voice silky smooth. ¡°I can do the rest.¡± Before I can react, Caterina glides to me. She crouches down beside me. With lightning speed, her hand shoots out, fingers gripping my chin with surprising strength. She forces my face up, making me look directly into those hypnotic red eyes. There¡¯s something unhinged in her expression, a manic quality that sends ice through my veins. ¡°Your wife,¡± she says slowly, savoring each word like a fine wine, ¡°has sold you to me to pay off her debts.¡± The world seems to tilt sideways. My stomach drops as if I¡¯ve just plummeted down the first hill of a roller coaster. I blink rapidly, certain I must have misheard. ¡°What?¡± I manage to croak out, my voice barely audible. Claire lurches forward, her hands reaching out as if to pull me back from the edge of a cliff. ¡°Only for four months!¡± she cries out, the words tumbling from her lips in a desperate rush. ¡°Just four months, and then everything will be fine again!¡± I whip my head toward her, breaking free of Caterina¡¯s grip. ¡°What?¡± I repeat, louder this time, confusion and disbelief warring in my mind. The word hangs in the air between us, a simple question that seems to contain multitudes. My eyes dart around the room, seeking some sign that this is all an elaborate prank. Maddy stands emotionlessly by the door, her face a mask of professional detachment. She might as well be waiting for a bus, not witnessing the sale of a human being. I turn back to Caterina, who¡¯s watching me with undisguised glee, like a cat that¡¯s finally cornered a particularly elusive mouse. ¡°You¡¯re all mine,¡± she whispers, her voice thick with possessive hunger. She reaches out again, her fingertips brushing against my cheek in a gesture that feels surprisingly tender. I stagger to my feet, feeling like I¡¯ve been hit by a truck. My legs are unsteady beneath me, but I manage to stand, pulling away from both women. ¡°Four months?¡± I repeat, my voice hollow with exasperation. Claire remains on her knees, her face a mask of misery and shame. Tears continue to stream down her cheeks, dripping onto the hardwood floor. I turn to her, my expression hardening into a frown. ¡°Is this really what you want?¡± I ask, my voice low and controlled despite the storm raging inside me. Claire doesn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she places her hands flat on the ground, bowing her head so low that her forehead nearly touches the floor. The position is one of complete submission, of utter supplication. ¡°Please, Adam,¡± she begs, her voice cracking with desperation. ¡°Please do this for me. I don¡¯t have any other way out.¡± As I watch her grovel, something shifts inside me. The sympathy I felt moments ago begins to curdle, transforming into something colder, more distant. There¡¯s something pathetic about her now, something that makes me recoil internally. ¡®She¡¯s literally selling me like I¡¯m property,¡¯ I think, the realization sending a chill down my spine. I let out a sigh, gazing at Caterina with a blend of resignation and defiance. ¡°Are you gonna do weird shit to me like put me in a torture chair, slicing my Achilles, and then giving me a chance to escape, only to laugh at me and shut the door just as I reach it before punishing me for attempting to flee?¡± Caterina¡¯s perfectly sculpted eyebrows shoot up in shock, her crimson eyes widening to almost comical proportions. She stares at me for a long, silent moment before letting out a sharp bark of laughter. ¡°What the fuck? No!¡± she exclaims, genuine amusement dancing in those hypnotic red eyes. ¡°My God, Adam, what kind of person do you think I am?¡± She shakes her head. She takes a step closer to me, her expression softening into something almost unguarded. ¡°You will be treated as my lover for four months,¡± she says, her voice dropping to a silky purr. ¡°And you will treat me with the love and kindness you showed your wife just now.¡± Her words hang in the air between us, heavy with implications. I glance at Claire, still on her knees, tears streaming down her face. She looks utterly broken, a shadow of the woman who confidently seduced me in the shower just yesterday. ¡°What exactly does ¡®treated as your lover¡¯ mean?¡± I ask, turning back to Caterina. ¡°It means,¡± Caterina says, her crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation, ¡°that you will live with me. You will dine with me. You will sleep in my bed.¡± She takes another step closer, her scent, something expensive and intoxicating, washing over me. ¡°And yes, you will make love to me.¡± Claire lets out a choked sob at these words but makes no move to object. Her acceptance of these terms feels like an even further betrayal, cutting deeper than I would have expected, given how little I truly know her. ¡°And if I refuse?¡± I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. Caterina¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t waver, but something shifts in her eyes, a flash of steel beneath the velvet. ¡°Then your wife¡¯s debt remains,¡± she says simply. ¡°And I will be forced to collect it through... other means.¡± Silence falls heavy over the room as I process this information. The weight of the situation settles on my shoulders like a physical burden, pressing me down, making it hard to breathe. Caterina watches me with those unsettling crimson eyes, patient as a spider waiting for its prey to exhaust itself in its web. There¡¯s a smugness to her posture, a certainty that she¡¯s already won. Maddy remains by the door, her presence a silent reminder that even if I wanted to run, there would be consequences. ¡°She borrowed money from my sister, too,¡± I finally say, my voice flat and emotionless. Claire¡¯s head snaps up, her eyes wide with shock and guilt. ¡°She told you about that?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I confirm with a nod. ¡°At the hospital.¡± Claire¡¯s face crumples with shame, and she lowers her gaze again, unable to meet my eyes. Her shoulders slump further, making her look even smaller and more pathetic than before. The sight of her, so broken and defeated, stirs a complex mixture of emotions within me, pity, disappointment, and a strange, detached curiosity about the woman I supposedly married. ¡°How much?¡± I ask, my tone clinical, as if we¡¯re discussing nothing more significant than a grocery bill. Claire doesn¡¯t look up. She keeps her head bowed, her forehead nearly touching the floor, in a posture of complete submission. ¡°Thirty thousand,¡± she admits. Caterina lets out a low whistle, her perfectly shaped eyebrows rising in genuine surprise. ¡°Wow,¡± she says, a note of admiration in her voice as if Claire¡¯s capacity for financial self-destruction is somehow impressive. I straighten my shoulders. If I¡¯m going to be traded like property, I might as well negotiate the terms. ¡°Add that to the four months,¡± I say firmly, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. ¡°Pay off Jessica¡¯s thirty thousand, and I¡¯ll be as obedient as you want.¡± Caterina¡¯s eyes widen slightly, a flash of surprise quickly replaced by delighted jubilation. Her ruby lips curve into a smile that¡¯s both seductive and victorious. She reaches out, her fingertips brushing against my cheek in a gesture that feels possessive. ¡°Deal,¡± she purrs, the word dripping with satisfaction. I turn to Claire, who remains crumpled on the floor, her body shaking with silent sobs. ¡°And don¡¯t hurt her,¡± I add, my voice hardening as I look back at Caterina. Caterina tilts her head, studying me with those unsettling crimson eyes. ¡°I have no intention of hurting her,¡± she says smoothly. ¡°She¡¯s of no interest to me anymore. I have what I want.¡± The way she looks at me as she says this makes kind of turns me on. But it feels like a bad time. As I gaze at Claire I can¡¯t help but notice she looks so small, so fragile, huddled on the floor in her rumpled work clothes. ¡°And you,¡± I say, my voice softer but no less firm. ¡°You need to get help. This is disgusting. I was just raped, and now you¡¯re selling me. Please go to Gamblers Anonymous or whatever the fuck it¡¯s called.¡± ¡°Yes, of course,¡± she chokes through tears, nodding frantically. ¡°I¡¯ll get help. I promise. I¡¯ll go to meetings. I¡¯ll do therapy. Whatever it takes.¡± Her words tumble out in a desperate rush, each one punctuated by a small, hiccupping sob. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Adam. I¡¯m so, so sorry.¡± She looks utterly broken, kneeling there on our living room floor, trembling like a leaf in a storm. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Caterina watches this display with thinly veiled amusement, her crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She seems to relish Claire¡¯s breakdown, drinking in her misery like a succubus of sadness. ¡°Come on, darling,¡± she purrs, turning to me with a predatory smile. ¡°A new life awaits.¡± She reaches out, her hand finding my hip with unfailing precision. Her touch is warm through the thin fabric of my t-shirt, her fingers curling possessively around the curve of my hip bone. With gentle but insistent pressure, she pulls me close until we¡¯re standing flush against each other. Up close, Caterina¡¯s height is even more impressive. She towers over me, her crimson eyes gazing down with triumphant hunger. The top of my head barely reaches her chin, forcing me to tilt my face up to meet her gaze. Against my will, I feel a warmth spreading through me at her proximity. There¡¯s something about being so close to her that feels oddly right like finding a puzzle piece you didn¡¯t know was missing. I feel kind of snug in her partial embrace, my body responding to her despite the chaos in my mind. ¡®Come on, Adam, what the fuck, buddy?¡¯ ¡°I¡¯ll see you at work, Claire,¡± Caterina says mockingly as we step outside. Chapter 7: It Felt Like a Kiss The Rolls Royce Phantom purrs down the street, its massive engine barely audible within the cocoon of luxury that is the cabin. I sink into the buttery leather seat, staring out the window as my brief but new life disappears around the corner. Caterina sits beside me, not touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her body. In the front, Maddy sits ramrod straight in the passenger seat, her eyes occasionally flicking to the rearview mirror to check on us. The driver, a burly woman with close-cropped gray hair, keeps her gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead, her expression professionally blank. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy with unspoken words. I stare straight ahead, my mind reeling as I try to process what just happened. One minute I was in bed watching YouTube videos, the next I¡¯m being whisked away by a woman who bought me from my wife. Cat shifts beside me, the leather creaking softly beneath her. I feel her eyes on me, studying me with that predatory intensity that seems to be her default state. After what feels like an eternity, she reaches out, placing her hand on my thigh. Her touch is warm through the fabric of my jeans, her fingers long and elegant as they splay across my leg. The weight of her hand, so casually possessive, sends an unwelcome jolt of electricity through my body. I hate myself for it, but I can feel a stirring in my groin, blood rushing to my cock as it begins to harden. ¡®She is just so unbelievably hot.¡¯ I swallow hard, trying to ignore the growing tightness in my pants. ¡°So, where are we going?¡± Cat doesn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she slides closer, her thigh pressing against mine. She reaches up, her thumb brushing against my lower lip in a gesture that¡¯s both tender and domineering. ¡°As badly as I want to treat you as a lover,¡± she purrs, her voice low and husky, ¡°I must punish you tonight.¡± My blood runs cold at her words, the budding arousal instantly replaced by fear. My mind races with horrific possibilities, images of torture chambers and cruel implements flashing behind my eyes. ¡°I thought you said no torture,¡± I stammer, my voice cracking slightly. She shakes her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. ¡°Adam, I¡¯m never going to torture you,¡± she says, her tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. ¡°Did Claire threaten to torture you?¡± I stare at her. ¡°No.¡± Caterina sighs. ¡°Anyways,¡± she continues, her finger tracing lazy patterns on my thigh, ¡°you do need to be punished.¡± ¡°Why?¡± I ask, genuinely confused. Her crimson eyes flash dangerously. ¡°You pissed me off today,¡± she says simply. ¡°I came by your house, invited you into my car, and you made me feel unwelcome.¡± ¡°Clearly, I didn¡¯t have a full grasp on the situation,¡± I protest, my voice rising slightly. In one swift motion, Cat grabs my face, her fingers digging into my cheeks with surprising strength. She pulls me closer until our noses are almost touching, her crimson eyes boring into mine with hypnotic intensity. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she whispers, her voice silky yet unyielding. ¡°What matters is how you made me feel.¡± I try to pull away, but her grip is iron. My heart hammers in my chest, a caged bird desperate for escape. I¡¯m acutely aware of Maddy in the front seat, watching our interaction through the rearview mirror with clinical detachment. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, the words coming out slightly garbled due to her grip on my face. Cat¡¯s expression softens marginally. She loosens her hold but doesn¡¯t release me entirely. Instead, her thumb strokes my cheek in a gesture that¡¯s almost tender. ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± she purrs. ¡°But apologies aren¡¯t enough, darling. Actions have consequences.¡± Her fingers trace along my jawline, really activating my dommy mommy neurons. Despite the fear, despite the bizarre circumstances, my body responds to her touch like a flower turning toward the sun. ¡°So what¡¯s my punishment going to be?¡± I ask. ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± As she speaks, her hand drifts lower, sliding down my chest back down to my thigh with agonizing slowness. The moment her fingers brush against the bulge in my jeans, her eyes widen slightly, a flash of genuine surprise crossing her perfect features. She presses her palm against my erection, feeling its shape and size through the denim. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°My, my,¡± she breathes, a note of delighted discovery in her voice. ¡°You really are quite excited, aren¡¯t you?¡± I swallow hard, not knowing how to play this. I want to deny it purely because the thought of being sold like cattle is so fucking lame, but the evidence is literally in her hand. ¡®Who am I hiding this for? Me? Claire? I¡¯m locked in here for four months. I honestly do hope we fuck a lot.¡¯ She begins to rub slowly, her palm moving in firm, circular motions over my clothed cock. The friction is maddening, enough to stoke the fire but not enough to satisfy. My hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of her. ¡°I really am your type, aren¡¯t I?¡± she asks, her voice filled with genuine curiosity as if this revelation is somehow surprising to her. ¡°What?¡± I manage to gasp, the word coming out breathless and strained. Cat doesn¡¯t respond to my question. Her expression shifts, becoming more focused, more intent. She continues her methodical rubbing, watching my face closely as pleasure builds within me. A small whimper escapes my lips, a sound so vulnerable and needy that I would be mortified if I weren¡¯t so far gone in the sensations she¡¯s creating. She stops. Her hand lifts from my crotch as suddenly as if she¡¯s been burned, leaving me aching and confused. The abrupt absence of her touch is almost painful, my body straining toward a release that¡¯s been yanked away. ¡°No more,¡± Cat says, her voice suddenly cool and distant. ¡°You¡¯re being punished, not rewarded.¡± She sighs and makes a cold face as if getting into character. The transformation is remarkable and unsettling, one moment she¡¯s a seductive temptress, the next an ice queen, her crimson eyes hardening like gemstones. ***** The Rolls Royce glides to a stop in front of a towering edifice of glass and steel that pierces the night sky. In front of us is a grand hotel sitting in the heart of Boston. ¡®The Luciano¡¯ the building reads. ¡®I¡¯ve never heard of this one before? It¡¯s huge, though.¡¯ The driver exits smoothly and circles around to my door with practiced efficiency. When she opens it, the cool night air rushes in. I step out onto the cobblestone driveway, my legs slightly wobbly from the tension of the car ride. The doorman, a tall woman in an impeccable uniform, stands at attention nearby, her face a careful mask of professional neutrality. Caterina emerges from the other side of the car, her movements fluid and graceful despite her imposing height. She strides toward me with purpose. When she reaches me, she takes my hand in hers, her grip firm and possessive. Her skin is warm against mine, her fingers interlacing with my own in a gesture that feels oddly intimate given the circumstances. ¡°This is where we¡¯re going?¡± I ask, gazing up at the gleaming tower of luxury. Caterina¡¯s expression remains cold and distant, her crimson eyes flashing with warning. ¡°Stop talking,¡± she commands, each word clipped and precise, like the snap of a whip. I oblige immediately, swallowing the rest of my questions. The doorman hurries to open the massive glass doors for us, bowing slightly as we pass. The lobby is a symphony of marble and gold, soaring ceilings, and plush carpets that swallow our footsteps. Crystal chandeliers hang like frozen waterfalls, casting prismatic light across the vast space. As we cross the lobby, I notice the effect Caterina has on the staff. The concierge straightens her spine and the bellhops freeze mid-motion. It¡¯s like watching prey animals sense a predator in their midst, every movement becomes calculated, every expression carefully controlled. The concierge hurries from behind her marble desk. Her heels click urgently against the polished floor as she approaches. ¡°Ah! Hello, Miss De Luca!¡± she exclaims, her voice pitched perfectly between professional and fawning. Her eyes dart nervously to me, then quickly back to Caterina, as if afraid to look at me for too long. Caterina acknowledges her with the barest incline of her head, her grip on my hand tightening slightly. ¡°Is the room prepared?¡± she asks, her tone making it clear she expects nothing less than perfection. ¡°Yes, of course,¡± the concierge responds, producing a key card from her jacket pocket with a flourish. ¡°The Presidential Suite has been prepared exactly to your specifications.¡± Caterina takes the card. ¡°Good,¡± she says simply. We make our way to a private elevator tucked discreetly at the back of the lobby. Maddy follows a few paces behind, her presence a silent reminder that there is no escape. ¡°Stay down here, Maddy,¡± Caterina says casually. Maddy nods her head in acknowledgment as she takes guard by the elevator. The elevator doors slide open silently, revealing an interior of polished mahogany and gleaming brass. Once inside, Caterina swipes the key card, and the elevator begins its ascent without any buttons being pressed. The ride is swift and smooth, the only sound the soft hum of the machinery and my own slightly ragged breathing. Caterina still hasn¡¯t released my hand. The doors open directly into the Presidential Suite, and my jaw nearly drops at the sight. The space is vast and opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Boston¡¯s glittering skyline. The d¨¦cor is a tasteful blend of modern and classic, all rich woods and sumptuous fabrics in deep jewel tones. Caterina strides into the suite with the confidence of someone who owns the place, which, for all I know, she might. She releases my hand and walks to the center of the room, surveying her domain with those hypnotic crimson eyes. I stand awkwardly by the elevator, unsure what to do with myself in this palace of luxury. My clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, feel suddenly shabby and out of place among such opulence. Caterina turns to me, her expression still cold and distant. For a moment, she simply stares, those crimson eyes assessing me like I¡¯m a piece of merchandise she¡¯s considering purchasing. Then, without warning, she strides toward me. Before I can react, she grabs my arm with surprising strength and drags me across the living area toward another door. She throws it open to reveal an enormous bedroom dominated by a massive four-poster bed draped in rich silk. The mattress looks plush and inviting, covered in what must be the highest thread count sheets money can buy. With a sudden, violent shove, Caterina pushes me into the bedroom. I stumble forward, nearly losing my balance, as I catch myself against one of the bedposts. ¡°Strip,¡± she commands, her voice cold and imperious. I turn to face her, my heart hammering in my chest. Despite the circumstances, despite knowing I should be outraged or terrified, I feel a thrill of exhilaration coursing through my veins. ¡°Wait, really?¡± I ask, trying and failing to keep the excitement from my voice. Her response is immediate and shocking. Her hand flashes out, connecting with my cheek in a sharp, stinging slap that echoes through the room. My head snaps to the side from the force of it, and I taste the metallic tang of blood where my teeth have cut into the inside of my cheek. ¡°Strip,¡± she repeats, her voice even colder now, brooking no argument. I raise my hand to my stinging cheek, genuinely surprised by both the pain and her strength. The slap hurt way more than I expected, like she¡¯s somehow stronger than me despite her slender frame. ¡°That hurt,¡± I say, more out of surprise. Caterina¡¯s eyes narrow dangerously, her perfectly sculpted features contorting into a mask of cold fury. ¡°It was supposed to hurt, Adam,¡± she hisses, each word dripping with venom. Her crimson eyes flash like warning signals, promising more pain if I continue to test her patience. ¡°That¡¯s what a punishment is. Now take your fucking clothes off before I decide to make this worse for you.¡± I feel a little confused by the sudden shift in her demeanor, but something in her tone makes me oblige without further protest. My fingers tremble slightly as I grab the hem of my t-shirt and pull it over my head, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. I kick off my shoes next, then my socks. As I unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs, I can feel Caterina¡¯s eyes on me, burning into my skin like twin lasers. The intensity of her gaze makes my heart race, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through my veins. While I strip, Caterina moves toward a massive walk-in closet. She steps inside and begins to remove her own clothing, but there¡¯s a stark difference in how she treats her garments. Where I¡¯ve left mine in a careless heap on the floor, she meticulously hangs each piece of her tailored suit with practiced grace. She emerges from the closet, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. The goddess standing before me is even more magnificent than in my dreams. Her body is a masterpiece of curves and planes, her skin glowing like polished ivory in the soft bedroom light. I am instantly, painfully hard. My cock stands at attention, throbbing with need as I drink in the sight of her. I couldn¡¯t hide my reaction even if I wanted to. Caterina¡¯s eyes travel down my body, lingering on my obvious arousal. A smirk plays at the corners of her perfect lips, equal parts mocking and satisfied. She takes a step closer, her crimson eyes raking over my nakedness with predatory intensity. The smirk on her perfect lips widens, transforming into something crueler, more mocking. ¡°Look at you,¡± she purrs, her voice dripping with contempt. ¡°A punished dog about to cheat on his wife, and you¡¯re hard as a rock. You are shameless. Don¡¯t you even feel bad for your wife?¡± I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. The question hangs between us, heavy with implications. In the brief time I¡¯ve known Claire, I¡¯ve felt many things, confusion, attraction, pity, disgust, but right now, standing naked and aroused before this statuesque blonde goddess, it¡¯s hard to summon much guilt. ¡°Between the memory issues and being sold, it¡¯s hard to feel bad for Claire right now,¡± I reply, my voice steadier than I expected. The words have barely left my mouth when Caterina¡¯s hand flashes out again, connecting with my other cheek in a slap even harder than the first. My head snaps to the side, stars dancing at the edges of my vision. The sound echoes through the luxurious bedroom like a gunshot. ¡°Don¡¯t say her name,¡± she growls, her eyes burning with hatred so intense it¡¯s almost tangible. My head feels a little rattled, my eyes widening in shock. The pain radiates across my face, hot and throbbing. My erection deflates a little as I struggle to compose myself. ¡®If I fight back, I don¡¯t know what she¡¯ll do to Claire.¡¯ I try to resist fighting back. Caterina¡¯s gaze drifts downward, and I watch as her expression shifts. Her crimson eyes widen slightly as she notices my flagging erection, a flash of panic crossing her perfect features. For a brief, startling moment, the cold mask slips, revealing something raw beneath, something that looks almost like fear. Her eyes dart back up to mine, and in that fleeting instant, I swear I see pity swimming in those crimson depths. It¡¯s gone so quickly I might have imagined it. The icy demeanor returns, her features hardening once more into that beautiful, terrible mask of control. She grabs my wrist with bruising force. Without a word, she yanks me toward the bed, her strength surprising me yet again. I stumble forward, unresisting, feeling oddly detached from the situation, as if I¡¯m watching it happen to someone else. The sheets are cool against my bare skin as she pushes me down onto the mattress. The bed is ridiculously comfortable, the kind of luxury I¡¯ve never experienced before. Caterina looms over me, her golden hair falling around her face in a curtain. She reaches for something on the nightstand, a length of what looks like black silk rope. She grabs both my wrists and pulls them above my head, stretching my arms until my shoulders strain slightly. She wraps the silk rope around them, binding them together with quick, expert movements. The knots are intricate and tight, securing my hands to the ornate headboard. I test the bonds reflexively, but there¡¯s no give. I¡¯m completely at her mercy now, my arms rendered useless, stretched taut above me. My face remains calm, oddly serene, despite the storm of emotions churning inside me. I don¡¯t want to speak, don¡¯t want to risk another slap or worse. So I remain silent, watching her with wary eyes as she steps back to admire her handiwork. The bindings have set me over the edge, my dick hardening right back up. The silk rope against my wrists, the absolute surrender of control, it¡¯s triggering something primal in me that I can¡¯t deny. My erection stands proudly between my legs, a betrayal of my conflicted feelings. Caterina notices immediately. Her eyes lock onto my hardness, her perfect eyebrow arching in surprise. For a moment, she simply stares at it, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she leans down. Her lips, soft and warm, press against the very tip of my cock in the briefest of kisses. The contact is so light, so fleeting, yet it sends electricity shooting through my entire body. ¡°Just because you¡¯re being punished doesn¡¯t mean your mistress hates you,¡± she purrs, her breath hot against my sensitive flesh. The word ¡®mistress¡¯ does something to me, igniting a fire in my belly that spreads outward in waves of heat. She straightens up, towering over me like a goddess from some ancient myth. ¡°But you embarrassed me today when you said it wouldn¡¯t be appropriate to go for a ride with me,¡± she continues, her voice taking on that cold edge again. ¡°Do you know how that made me feel?¡± I say nothing, looking at her blankly as arousal courses through me. Staring at her naked body is driving me to the edge of sanity. ¡°Answer me,¡± she demands, her hand suddenly gripping my jaw, forcing me to look into her eyes rather than at her body. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I stammer. ¡°Rejected,¡± she says, the word sharp and precise. ¡°You made me feel rejected. Do you have any idea how long I¡¯ve waited for you? How long I¡¯ve wanted you?¡± I look at her and speak honestly, ¡°I really don¡¯t, Cat.¡± Her crimson eyes flash with irritation, her perfect features hardening into a mask of annoyance. ¡°Years,¡± she hisses, the single word dripping with intensity. ¡°I¡¯ve wanted you for years, Adam. But every time we talked after the first, you were always so cold, so distant. Not anymore, huh?¡± There¡¯s something unhinged in her expression now. Her chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath, her perfect breasts heaving with emotion. ¡°I don¡¯t remember,¡± I say. Without warning, she clasps my ankles in her hands. She pushes them back toward my chest, folding me nearly in half. The position is vulnerable, almost humiliating, but my cock doesn¡¯t seem to mind, throbbing eagerly as she positions herself above me. In one swift, fluid motion, she mounts me. Her wet pussy engulfs me completely as she sinks down, taking me all the way inside her in a single, determined thrust. The sensation is overwhelming, tight, hot, perfect. Like nothing I¡¯ve ever felt before. I groan loudly, the sound tearing from my throat as pleasure crashes through me like a tidal wave. My hips buck involuntarily, my body writhing against the restraints as I immediately start cumming inside her. The orgasm hits me with no warning, no build-up, just an explosive release that seems to go on forever. ¡°Fuck!¡± I whimper out, my voice breaking as pulse after pulse of pleasure tears through me. My vision blurs at the edges, my entire world narrowing to the point where our bodies connect. To my surprise, Caterina looks absolutely thrilled. Her crimson eyes widen with delight, her perfect lips parting in a smile of pure, primal satisfaction. There¡¯s something almost triumphant in her expression like she¡¯s just won a long-fought battle. She looks overjoyed. Proud of herself, even. ¡°How dare you cum before your mistress,¡± she scolds, her voice attempting sternness even as her face betrays her. ¡°I didn¡¯t give you permission to cum.¡± Her words completely contradict the expression of pure joy illuminating her features. She looks almost giddy, like a child who¡¯s just received exactly what they wanted for Christmas. I moan as the final waves of my climax wash over me, my body trembling with aftershocks. The intensity of the orgasm has left me dazed, my thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. Through the haze of pleasure, I notice that Caterina hasn¡¯t moved off me. She remains firmly seated on my cock. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I gasp, though I¡¯m not entirely sure what I¡¯m apologizing for. Caterina leans forward. She reaches toward the nightstand, her movements causing her to shift slightly on my oversensitive cock, drawing another whimper from me. When she turns back, she¡¯s holding a small blue pill between her thumb and forefinger. She holds it up before my eyes, the tiny tablet catching the light. ¡°Open up,¡± she commands, her voice soft yet authoritative. I eye the pill suspiciously, my post-orgasmic haze clearing enough for caution to reassert itself. ¡°What is that?¡± I ask, my voice still shaky from the intensity of my climax. ¡°It¡¯ll make it easier to get you hard again,¡± she explains, her tone almost gentle, nurturing. ¡°I¡¯m not done with you yet, darling, and I need you as hard as possible to punish you.¡± I harden up at her words as I open my mouth and stick my tongue out, offering no resistance. The sight of her towering above me, her crimson eyes burning with desire. It¡¯s more intoxicating than any drug could ever be. ¡°Oh,¡± Cat says with a delighted purr, feeling my renewed hardness inside her. Her eyebrows arch in surprise, a smile playing at the corners of her ruby lips. ¡°I wonder if you even need it?¡± She places the tiny blue pill on my outstretched tongue anyway, her fingertip lingering against my lower lip in a gesture that¡¯s both tender and possessive. ¡°Well, it can¡¯t hurt,¡± she murmurs, her voice a silky caress against my senses. ¡°Swallow.¡± I do as I¡¯m told, feeling the pill slide down my throat. Cat¡¯s laugh is like musical bells, light and tinkling yet somehow predatory. She grabs my ankles and pushes them again. ¡°Do try to last longer this time,¡± she says mockingly, her tone playful yet edged with command. Without warning, she starts violently smashing her hips down on my cock. The sensation is overwhelming her tight, wet heat, enveloping me completely before rising up only to slam back down with punishing force. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through my body, so intense it borders on pain. Her movements are relentless, almost brutal in their intensity. The bed creaks beneath us, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. She rides me like she¡¯s trying to break me. She sees me wincing in bliss, my eyes half-closed, mouth parted in ecstasy as she rides me with savage intensity. Her rhythm falters for a moment as she studies my expression. ¡°No,¡± she says suddenly, her voice sharp as a blade. ¡°Absolutely not.¡± The warmth vanishes from her face, her features hardening into that cold, imperious mask once more. Her crimson eyes flash with displeasure. ¡°You don¡¯t get to enjoy this,¡± she hisses, her voice dripping with venom. ¡°This is punishment, not pleasure.¡± Without warning, her hands shoot out, wrapping around my throat. Her fingers press against my windpipe, not enough to crush it but enough to restrict the flow of air. The sudden pressure makes my eyes widen in shock, my body tensing beneath her. But to my horror and her visible dismay, my cock responds with enthusiasm, growing impossibly harder inside her. The lack of oxygen sends my senses into overdrive, heightening every sensation until even the slight shifting of her weight atop me feels like exquisite torture. Cat tilts her head. ¡°Are you a masochist?¡± she asks, her voice a mixture of surprise and what almost sounds like delight, though she tries to mask it with disgust. I try to respond, but her grip makes it impossible to form words. Only a strangled gurgle escapes my lips, my face beginning to flush from lack of oxygen. She loosens her hold just enough to allow speech, though her fingers remain threateningly poised around my neck. ¡°I... I think so,¡± I choke out, the words raw and raspy from my constricted throat. The admission hangs in the air between us, a confession I hadn¡¯t even fully acknowledged to myself until this moment. Her grip tightens again, completely cutting off my air supply. The pressure is intense, frightening in its totality. Black spots begin to dance at the edges of my vision as oxygen deprivation sets in. Just as the darkness begins to close in, as consciousness starts to slip away like water through cupped hands, she releases her hold. Air rushes back into my lungs in a painful gasp, my body convulsing beneath her as I gulp down oxygen. As the oxygen floods back into my system, a euphoric wave crashes over me. Each cell in my body feels electrified, hyperaware. My cock throbs inside her with renewed vigor, my hips bucking upward of their own accord, driving deeper into her wet heat. Cat senses my heightened arousal immediately. Her crimson eyes widen in disbelief, then narrow in fury. ¡°Stop it!¡± she screams, her voice echoing off the walls of the luxurious suite. ¡°Stop enjoying this right now!¡± Her hand flies through the air, connecting with my cheek in another slap. This one is only about half as hard as the previous ones, more performative than punishing. The sting blooms across my skin, but instead of deterring me, it only fans the flames of my desire. A moan escapes my lips, unbidden and unrestrained. My body arches beneath her, seeking more contact, more friction, more of everything she¡¯s giving me. ¡°I said stop!¡± Cat shrieks, her composure crumbling before my eyes. There¡¯s something almost desperate in her tone now, as if my unexpected reaction to her punishment is throwing her completely off balance. Her palm connects with my face again. Something inside me snaps. The cumulative pain, the confusion, the bizarre situation, it all comes crashing down on me at once. ¡°Stop hitting me!¡± I scream, my voice raw and ragged. The words tear from my throat with unexpected force, surprising both of us with their intensity. My legs thrash beneath her as I try to dislodge her from atop me. The silk ropes bite into my wrists as I pull against them, desperate to free myself from this beautiful, terrifying woman. Cat throws her weight forward, pinning my legs down. Her hands press my thighs into the mattress. ¡°How dare you,¡± she hisses, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that somehow feels more threatening than her screams. Before I can respond, her hand flies through the air again. This time, there¡¯s no holding back. The slap lands with devastating precision, directly across my left eye. The impact is like a hammer blow, sending shockwaves of agony through my skull. My vision instantly blurs, the world dissolving into a haze of pain and fractured light. I can feel the tissue around my eye swelling immediately, puffing up as blood rushes to the traumatized area. I groan in pain, the sound raw and primal. ¡°Please stop,¡± I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. Cat looms over me, her beautiful face contorted with rage. ¡°I need you to fear me!¡± she screams, her voice cracking with emotion. There¡¯s something desperate in her tone, something almost pleading beneath the fury. ¡°Please stop hitting me,¡± I say, trying to turn my face away to protect my injured eye from further assault. Cat grabs my chin with bruising force, her fingers digging into my jaw as she wrenches my face back toward her. ¡°I need you to be obedient!¡± she shrieks. Spittle flies from her perfect lips, landing on my cheeks and mixing with the tears I hadn¡¯t even realized were streaming from my good eye. The weight of the situation crashes down on me all at once. I¡¯m bound to a bed in a strange hotel, being assaulted by a woman who bought me from my wife. ¡°I want to go home,¡± I whisper, the words carrying all the broken fragments of my heart. ¡°You aren¡¯t going fucking anywhere,¡± she says, her voice suddenly quiet, controlled, and all the more frightening for it. Each word falls from her lips like a shard of ice, precise and cutting. ¡°Please, I¡¯ll be good. I would have been good. Please,¡± I beg, my voice breaking as the words tumble out. The fight has drained from me, leaving only desperation in its wake. Cat stares down at me, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she remains perfectly still, like a predator assessing its prey. Then, without warning, she begins to move her hips again. This time, her movements are different, slower, more deliberate, almost gentle. A soft moan escapes her lips as she rocks against me. The sound is startlingly at odds with the violent woman from moments ago. ¡°Shhh,¡± she whispers, her voice suddenly tender. ¡°We¡¯re almost done with your punishment, my love.¡± The unexpected endearment, spoken with such softness, confuses me even more than the violence did. Tears well up in my good eye, spilling over and tracking warm paths down my cheek. ¡®I don¡¯t like this.¡¯ ¡°Look at me,¡± Cat commands, though her tone lacks the earlier harshness. I obey, lifting my gaze to meet hers. Something shifts in her expression as she takes in the damage she¡¯s caused. Her perfect brow furrows slightly, a flicker of what might be regret crossing her features. She studies my rapidly swelling eye, watching as the tissue puffs up, already beginning to close from the force of her blow. She sighs, a sound so heavy with emotion it seems to physically deflate her magnificent form. Her shoulders slump slightly, the imperious posture giving way to something almost defeated. ¡°I can¡¯t do this,¡± she says softly, the words barely audible. Without another word, she dismounts me, leaving me feeling dissatisfied. She gets off the bed, her movements fluid despite the abrupt change in mood. I lie there, bound and confused, watching through my one good eye as she walks to the door. There¡¯s something fragile in her posture, a vulnerability that wasn¡¯t there before. She pauses at the doorway, her hand resting on the frame. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± she says softly, not turning around. I hear her footsteps receding, bare feet padding against marble floors. I stare up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what just happened. The rapid shifts in Cat¡¯s demeanor have left me emotionally whiplashed. One moment she¡¯s a cold, sadistic tormentor, the next a passionate lover, then suddenly vulnerable and regretful. It¡¯s impossible to predict which version I¡¯ll face when she returns. ¡®I don¡¯t know if I should do this for Claire. If this is how it¡¯s going to be, maybe I should just run away and live with Jessica for a while. Claire dug this hole. This isn¡¯t fair for me.¡¯ Minutes pass. Eventually, I hear her returning, her footsteps growing louder as she approaches the bedroom. She appears in the doorway holding something in her hands. As she comes closer, I see it¡¯s a small face cloth wrapped around what must be ice. Without a word, Cat sits on the edge of the bed beside me. She doesn¡¯t immediately apply the ice or even look at my face. Instead, she stares down at the cloth in her hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Adam,¡± she says finally. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to do this. I wanted to punish you, but I took it too far.¡± She lifts her gaze to meet mine, and I¡¯m startled to see genuine remorse in those crimson eyes. It transforms her face, softening the sharp edges of her beauty into something more human, more approachable. With gentle hands that seem incapable of the violence they delivered just minutes ago, she helps me shift position, cradling my head and guiding it onto her lap. The movement pulls at my bound arms. I close my eyes as she tenderly applies the ice to my swollen eye. The cold seeps through the cloth, numbing the throbbing pain that pulses with each heartbeat. Her lap is warm beneath my head. She holds the compress with one hand while the other strokes my hair, her fingers weaving through the strands with surprising gentleness. Each caress feels like an apology, the soft touch at odds with the violence that preceded it. ¡°Does that hurt?¡± she asks, but she¡¯s not referring to my eye. Her gaze has drifted lower to where my cock still stands erect despite everything that¡¯s happened. I follow her gaze, noticing with some surprise that I¡¯m still hard. The blue pill has done its work well, perhaps too well. My erection juts upward, flushed and insistent, seemingly disconnected from the emotional turmoil roiling inside me. ¡°Is it safe?¡± I ask, my voice hoarse from shouting and crying. ¡°With the pill, I mean.¡± Cat¡¯s expression softens further, a small smile playing at the corners of her perfect lips. She shifts the ice pack slightly, adjusting it to cover the worst of the swelling around my eye. ¡°Let your mistress take care of you,¡± she speaks warmly. There¡¯s something different in how she says it now, not commanding or cruel, but nurturing, loving even. Chapter 8: Let’s Take Ibuprofen Together [Madison¡¯s POV] I¡¯m sitting in front of the elevator just doing lookout. Truth be told, this whole body guard act is kinda fake. This hotel is owned by the De Lucas, so I¡¯m more just window dressing. The security team has everything handled, and nobody would dare make trouble in Caterina¡¯s territory anyway. I check my watch. It¡¯s been almost an hour since the boss took Adam upstairs. I¡¯ve been scrolling through emails on my phone, answering the occasional text from our casino managers. Nothing that requires immediate attention. Just routine business matters that help pass the time. The soft ding of the elevator pulls my attention away from my screen. The doors slide open, and Caterina steps out alone. Something¡¯s off. Her usually perfect hair is slightly disheveled, and there¡¯s a tightness around her eyes I rarely see. But what really catches my attention is the expression on her face, a mixture of distress and uncertainty that looks completely foreign on her normally confident features. She motions for me, her movements lacking their usual fluid grace. ¡°Madison,¡± she says, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. ¡°Come upstairs with me.¡± I¡¯m on my feet immediately, slipping my phone into my jacket pocket. ¡°Of course,¡± I respond, stepping into the elevator beside her. The doors close, and Caterina swipes her keycard. As the elevator begins its ascent, I study her reflection in the polished brass panels. She¡¯s fidgeting with her hands, Caterina De Luca, who I¡¯ve seen stare down cartel leaders without blinking, is fidgeting. ¡°You alright, boss?¡± I ask, keeping my tone casual. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes meet mine in the reflection. She hesitates, something she never does. ¡°I made a mistake,¡± she finally says, the words coming out in a rush. ¡°With Adam.¡± I carefully maintain my neutral expression, though internally, I¡¯m surprised. Caterina doesn¡¯t admit mistakes. Ever. ¡°What kind of mistake?¡± I ask, my voice deliberately steady. She runs a hand through her golden hair, further disturbing its perfect arrangement. ¡°I hit him,¡± she says, her voice dropping low. ¡°I hit him too hard. He has a black eye.¡± I process this information quickly. Violence isn¡¯t unusual in our line of work, but Caterina has always been calculating with it, never impulsive. I¡¯ve never seen Caterina hit a man¡­ have I? And I know how long she¡¯s wanted Adam, years of watching from afar, orchestrating events to bring him closer to her orbit. The elevator rises in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of machinery. I weigh my next words carefully. In our world, offering unsolicited advice to someone like Caterina De Luca can be dangerous, potentially even fatal. But the woman standing beside me now, with her uncertain eyes and trembling hands, seems less like the untouchable crime boss I¡¯ve served for years and more like someone who genuinely needs guidance. ¡°Was it the coke?¡± I ask quietly, voicing the question that¡¯s been forming since she stepped out of the elevator downstairs. The elevator slows as we near the top floor. Caterina¡¯s shoulders sag slightly, the admission coming with a physical release of tension. ¡°Yes,¡± she whispers, her crimson eyes meeting mine with rare vulnerability. ¡°I was nervous for our first time, and I wanted to be really intimidating at his house, so I think I ripped too many lines before I showed him how pathetic his wife is.¡± ¡°After he upset me earlier, I felt a bit annoyed,¡± Caterina explains, her eyes flitting around the room. ¡°I hit him twice at first because I wanted him to feel uneasy. I thought instilling a little fear would be beneficial since I wanted him to be obedient. But every time I escalated the abuse while I was fucking him, iy only made him harder.¡± She pauses, a flicker of sorrow crossing her face. ¡°Some part of me just couldn¡¯t let go of the fact that he said he wanted to be loyal to Claire earlier. I felt such an intense rage building inside me. And then when he fought back, I don¡¯t know¡­ I just lost control. I had no intention to hurt him so bad.¡± The confession hangs in the air between us, raw and unfiltered. The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, revealing the opulent foyer of the Presidential Suite. Neither of us moves immediately. I nod, understanding washing over me. ¡°What can I do to help?¡± I ask, stepping out of the elevator. The marble floor gleams under the soft lighting, reflecting our figures like a still pond. Caterina follows, her movements lacking their usual predatory grace. ¡°Can you just check him out to see if he¡¯s alright?¡± she asks, gesturing vaguely toward the bedroom door across the expansive living area. I glance in that direction, noting that the door is partially open. ¡°I¡¯m no doctor, boss,¡± I say carefully, ¡°but I can check to see if he¡¯s concussed, I guess.¡± We walk across the living room together, our footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. The suite smells of sex. As we approach the bedroom, I steel myself, unsure of what condition I¡¯ll find Adam in. ¡°Boss,¡± I say, pausing just before we reach the door. The words form in my throat, dangerous but necessary. ¡°You know I would never tell you to quit drugs, but maybe...¡± I let the suggestion hang incomplete, bracing myself for a potential explosion of anger. In five years, I¡¯ve never once commented on her personal habits. It¡¯s the kind of boundary overstepping that has gotten others killed. But Caterina just nods, surprising me with her quiet acceptance. Her crimson eyes, usually so sharp and focused, seem clouded with something like shame. ¡°I know,¡± she says softly. ¡°I know, Maddy.¡± S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Caterina pushes the bedroom door open, the heavy wood swinging silently on well-oiled hinges. The room beyond is dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the city lights, casting everything in soft shadows. My eyes immediately find Adam. He¡¯s lying on his back, propped up slightly against a mountain of pillows. He¡¯s dressed in a plain T-shirt and pants. His left eye is grotesquely swollen, the skin around it already darkening to an angry purple-black. The swelling has nearly closed the eye completely, forcing him to view the world through just his right. He¡¯s holding what looks like a makeshift ice pack to the injury, his hand trembling slightly with the effort of keeping it in place. The contrast between the luxury of the room and his obvious suffering creates a jarring dissonance that tightens something in my chest. This isn¡¯t a business associate who crossed the line or a rival who needed to be taught a lesson. This is the man my boss has been obsessing over for years, the one she¡¯s schemed and manipulated to possess. ¡®What the fuck was she thinking.¡¯ Adam¡¯s good eye flicks toward us as we enter. There¡¯s no fear in his gaze, which surprises me. Instead, I see resignation mixed with a dull sort of pain that seems to go beyond the physical. He doesn¡¯t speak, doesn¡¯t acknowledge our presence beyond that initial glance. ¡°Boss, you got any ibuprofen or Tylenol?¡± I ask, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the hushed room. ¡°To help with the swelling.¡± Caterina stands frozen in the doorway, her tall frame silhouetted against the light from the living room. I can¡¯t see her face clearly, but the stiffness in her posture speaks volumes. She¡¯s not used to feeling regret, and it sits on her like an ill-fitting coat. She looks over at Adam, really looks at him, taking in the damage she¡¯s done. Her crimson eyes widen slightly, and I watch as something crumbles in her expression. The tyrannical crime boss dissolves, leaving behind a woman who suddenly seems lost, almost childlike in her uncertainty. ¡°Yes, I think we have something.¡± She doesn¡¯t move immediately, her gaze still fixed on Adam¡¯s swollen face. Her fingers twitch at her sides like she wants to reach out to him but doesn¡¯t quite dare. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Caterina turns and disappears down the hallway toward the bathroom, her footsteps fading into silence. I take a deep breath and approach the bed where Adam lies. ¡°Hey,¡± I say softly, perching carefully on the edge of the mattress. The bed dips slightly under my weight, causing Adam to wince as the movement jostles his injury. ¡°Sorry,¡± I mutter, trying to keep still. Adam¡¯s good eye focuses on me, surprisingly clear despite everything he¡¯s been through. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he says, his voice rough and tired. I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a small penlight flashlight I always carry. It¡¯s slim and silver, designed for emergencies. Right now, checking for a concussion qualifies. ¡°Look at me,¡± I instruct, keeping my voice professional but gentle. He complies, turning his face toward me. The bruising looks even worse up close, spreading across his cheekbone in a violent bloom of purple and black. I flick on the penlight, the bright beam cutting through the dim room like a laser. ¡°I¡¯m just going to check if you¡¯re concussed,¡± I explain, holding the light up to his good eye. Before I can begin the examination, Adam¡¯s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist. His grip is weak. ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this anymore,¡± he says, his voice low and urgent. ¡°You can just take Claire. I barely know her. I can¡¯t do four months of this.¡± My heart breaks for the guy but I know if he tries to leave, Caterina might actually lock him up. I check over my shoulder for Caterina and whisper, ¡°Listen, Adam. This isn¡¯t something you can just walk away from.¡± His fingers tighten around my wrist, desperate. The look in his one good eye reminds me of a trapped animal, and suddenly, I¡¯m thinking about my brother. How I¡¯d feel if he was in this situation, traded like property, beaten and confused. The thought makes my stomach twist. ¡°I think tonight was a one-off, alright?¡± I continue, keeping my voice barely audible. ¡°She¡¯s not usually like this. But I really don¡¯t know how upset she¡¯ll get with you if you say that to her.¡± He just blinks at me, the movement causing him to wince slightly as it pulls at the swollen tissue. ¡°I don¡¯t even understand why she hurt me this much,¡± he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. ¡°One minute she was... and then she just...¡± ¡°Just hang in there for a week, okay? If you still want to leave, tell me privately.¡± I offer him a little bit of hope. In truth, it¡¯s not something I could follow up on even if I wanted too. I just don¡¯t know what else to say. ¡®This poor guy.¡¯ I gently extract my wrist from his grip and hold up the penlight again. ¡°Let me just check if you¡¯re concussed, okay?¡± He nods, resignation washing over his features. I shine the light in his good eye, watching as the pupil contracts normally in response to the brightness. I move the beam back and forth, observing as his eye tracks the movement smoothly. No dilation issues, no tracking problems. ¡°You¡¯re not concussed,¡± I confirm, clicking off the penlight and slipping it back into my pocket. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± I feel a small sense of relief that at least his brain isn¡¯t scrambled, though the eye looks bad enough. The bruising has deepened in the short time we¡¯ve been talking, spreading outward from the socket like spilled ink on parchment. The bedroom door creaks open, and Caterina returns carrying a crystal tumbler of water in one hand and a small white pill bottle in the other. Her movements are careful, almost hesitant, so unlike her usual commanding presence that it¡¯s jarring to witness. She¡¯s trying to make herself smaller somehow, hunching her shoulders slightly as if afraid she might startle Adam if she moves too suddenly. ¡°Here,¡± she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft as she sits on the side of the bed. ¡°I found some Advil,¡± she continues, twisting the cap off the bottle. Two orange pills tumble into her palm. ¡°It should help with the pain and swelling.¡± Adam watches her warily through his one good eye, his face a mask of caution. His hand still holds the makeshift ice pack to his injury. ¡°He¡¯s not concussed,¡± I report, breaking the tense silence that hangs between them. ¡°Pupil response is normal, and he¡¯s tracking fine.¡± Caterina nods, her golden hair catching the dim light as it falls forward. ¡°Thank you for looking,¡± she says, not taking her eyes off Adam. The moment feels oddly intimate as if I¡¯m intruding on something private despite the bizarre circumstances that brought us all here. I shift my weight, preparing to leave them to whatever comes next, reconciliation, more apologies, or perhaps just silence. ¡°Do you want me to do anything else?¡± I ask, already knowing the answer but feeling compelled to offer nonetheless. Caterina finally turns to look at me, her crimson eyes filled with a vulnerability. For a moment, she looks almost lost, like a child unsure of what to do next. But then her expression shifts, the mask of control sliding back into place, though not as perfectly as usual. ¡°No, that will be all,¡± she says, her voice regaining some of its usual authority, though it remains softer than normal. ¡°Thank you, Madison.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± I take my leave. Maddy. Pretend the pen is a flashlight. Chapter 9: I’m Sorry [Adam¡¯s POV] I wake up in a world of pain as my head throbs, each pulse of blood through my veins bringing fresh waves of agony to my swollen eye. I try to move but discover I¡¯m nestled between Caterina¡¯s naked, huge breasts, my face partially buried in the soft valley of her bosom. Her skin is warm against my cheek, smelling faintly of booze and something uniquely her, a scent that makes my body respond even as my mind recoils. I sigh, realizing I¡¯m still in this confusing and erotic hell. The events of last night flash through my mind in disjointed fragments. The violent slaps, the sex, the ropes binding my wrists, the blinding pain when her hand connected with my eye. Caterina must sense that I¡¯m awake because she shifts slightly, adjusting her position so she can look down at me. Her crimson eyes are somber in the soft morning light filtering through the partially drawn curtains. ¡°Good morning,¡± she says, her voice hesitant. I look her in the eyes, terrified to talk. My throat feels dry, constricted with fear. ¡®What if I say something wrong? What if I trigger that rage again?¡¯ The memory of her hand flying toward my face makes me tense involuntarily. Something in my expression must reveal my thoughts because her perfect features crumple. To my shock, tears well up in those hypnotic crimson eyes, gathering at her lower lashes before spilling over onto her flawless cheeks. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Adam,¡± she whispers, her voice breaking. ¡°Last night... I never meant to hurt you like that.¡± I refuse to speak. She hit me every time I said something she didn¡¯t like. My silence seems to hurt her more than any words could. Her lips tremble slightly, a vulnerability I wouldn¡¯t have thought possible from the bullish woman who terrorized me just hours ago. She reaches out slowly, telegraphing her movement as if approaching a wounded animal. I flinch violently, jerking my head away from her approaching fingers. The sudden movement sends a spike of pain through my injured eye, making me gasp involuntarily. Caterina pulls her hand back instantly, pain flashing across her face at my reaction. Her tears flow more freely now, tracking glistening paths down her cheeks. ¡°The swelling is still pretty bad,¡± she says softly, her eyes fixed on my injury. I can barely open the eye, the tissue around it puffy and tender. ¡°Are you afraid to speak because you think I might hit you again?¡± she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. I hesitate for a moment, weighing my options. Lying seems pointless. My reaction has already given me away. Slowly, cautiously, I nod my head, the slight movement sending another pulse of pain through my injured face. Something breaks in Caterina¡¯s expression. Her face crumples completely, and a sob escapes her perfect lips. In one fluid motion, she pulls me against her, wrapping her arms around me and pressing my face gently back into her chest. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll never hurt you again,¡± she whispers fiercely into my hair, her voice thick with emotion. ¡°Even if you make me mad, okay? I¡¯m so sorry, baby. So, so sorry.¡± Her fingers thread through my hair, the touch gentle and soothing, nothing like the violent woman from last night. She rocks me slightly, her body curled protectively around mine as if she could shield me from the pain she herself inflicted. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Adam. I¡¯m so fucking sorry,¡± she says, her voice breaking on the words. ¡°Last night, I got nervous to see you, so I did too much cocaine, and I think that made me go a little crazy, you know?¡± The confession hangs in the air between us, raw and unexpected. I blink at her with my good eye, trying to process this new information. ¡°Cocaine?¡± I repeat, my voice hoarse from disuse and the lingering effects of her hands around my throat last night. She looks at me and wipes her tears, closing her eyes for a moment to compose herself. When she opens those crimson eyes again, they¡¯re clearer, more focused, though still rimmed with red. ¡°Adam, it¡¯s a stressful job being a mafia boss,¡± she says softly, her voice steadier now. Her fingers continue their gentle exploration of my hair, careful to avoid the tender areas of my face. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to understand everything about my world, but there are pressures you can¡¯t imagine.¡± ¡°Mafia?¡± I say, the word coming out high-pitched and panicked. Caterina¡¯s eyes widen in surprise, her perfect lips forming a small ¡°o¡± shape. She stares at me for a long moment, her crimson eyes searching my face with growing realization. ¡°Oh my... I forgot,¡± she says slowly, her hand freezing mid-stroke in my hair. ¡°Wait, does that mean you forgot Claire was working for the mafia?¡± I bolt upright in the bed, ignoring the pain. The sheets pool around my waist as I stare at Caterina, my good eye-widening. ¡°M-mafia?¡± I repeat, my voice climbing even higher, cracking like a teenage boy¡¯s. My heart hammers against my ribs so violently I¡¯m certain Caterina can see it through my chest. ¡°Like, actual mafia? With guns and hits and concrete shoes and people sleeping with the fishes? That kind of mafia?¡± My hands begin to tremble uncontrollably, and I press them flat against the silk sheets to hide their shaking. A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead as memories from last night slot into a terrifying new context, the way the hotel staff had practically bowed as Caterina walked past, how Maddy had stood guard like a soldier, the casual way Caterina had mentioned ¡°collecting¡± Claire¡¯s debt through ¡°other means.¡± S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Yes!¡± I shriek, the word exploding from me in a burst of panicked comprehension. ¡°YES, CLAIRE FORGOT TO MENTION SHE WORKS FOR THE MAFIA!¡± Caterina stares at me, her crimson eyes blinking slowly as she processes my reaction. ¡°But... but you¡¯re blonde?¡± I blurt out, my anxiety-addled brain latching onto this detail as if it¡¯s somehow the most important fact in this horrifying revelation. ¡°What?¡± Caterina asks. ¡°You can¡¯t be Italian if you¡¯re blonde,¡± I insist, gesturing wildly at her golden hair cascading over her bare shoulders. ¡°Italians have dark hair. You know, like in The Godfather. Al Pacino. Robert De Niro. Dark hair!¡± ¡°You mean the Godmother?¡± She murmurs with confusion. Caterina¡¯s jaw drops slightly, her expression morphing from confusion to utter disbelief. She reaches up to touch her own hair as if confirming it¡¯s still there. ¡°My last name is De Luca,¡± she says slowly, enunciating each syllable as if speaking to a particularly dim child. ¡°I thought that was Irish,¡± I counter. ¡°God, no!¡± Caterina exclaims, throwing her hands up in exasperation. ¡°It¡¯s as Italian as it gets!¡± I stare at Caterina, the reality of my situation crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. The room seems to tilt and spin, the opulent surroundings suddenly feeling like the gilded cage they truly are. ¡°So my... wife...¡± I speak the word with utter disgust, the taste of it bitter on my tongue, ¡°sold me to a mob boss.¡± The statement hangs in the air between us, stark and undeniable. Caterina¡¯s expression softens, those crimson eyes watching me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. She reaches toward me, but I flinch away instinctively. ¡°I... Can I go back?¡± I whisper. ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s worth this.¡± The change is immediate and terrifying. Like a switch being flipped, Caterina¡¯s gentle demeanor vanishes. Her face hardens, those crimson eyes blazing with a fury that turns my blood to ice. ¡°Adam,¡± she says, her voice low and dangerous, each syllable precisely controlled, ¡°I¡¯m not letting you go.¡± I shrink back against the headboard. The look on her face reminds me of a predator about to pounce, and I¡¯m acutely aware of how much stronger she is than me, how completely at her mercy I am. Seeing my reaction, something shifts in her expression. The rage doesn¡¯t disappear entirely, but it recedes like a tide pulling back from shore. Her features soften marginally, though the steel remains in her gaze. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for hurting you,¡± she continues, her voice gentler now but still edged with warning, ¡°and I promise I¡¯ll make you feel safe. But please don¡¯t push it.¡± Before I can respond, her arms encircle me, pulling me against her warm body in an embrace that¡¯s both comforting and terrifying. ¡°Just give me a chance, Adam,¡± she whispers into my hair, her voice suddenly warm and pleading. ¡°Let me show you true love.¡± The contrast between her threat and her tenderness leaves me dizzy with confusion. My body responds to her warmth even as my mind screams in protest. A single tear escapes my good eye, tracking a warm path down my cheek. ¡°Okay,¡± I say, feeling like a trapped animal. ***** The morning sunlight slices through the partially opened curtains in geometric patterns across the Presidential Suite¡¯s dining area. I sit awkwardly at an ornate table that could comfortably seat twelve but currently hosts just two. Caterina insisted I sit beside her rather than across, saying something about ¡°not wanting distance between us.¡± A private chef, a woman in her forties with salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a tight bun, moves efficiently around us, setting down plate after plate of exquisite breakfast foods. There are delicate crepes folded around fresh berries, a towering stack of golden pancakes glistening with authentic maple syrup, and some kind of egg dish with truffle shavings that probably costs more than my old monthly rent. As she leans in to place a pitcher of coffee near my right hand, her eyes dart to my face, lingering for a microsecond on my swollen eye. I catch the flicker of shock before she quickly averts her gaze, suddenly very interested in the perfect alignment of the silverware. ¡°Will there be anything else, Miss De Luca?¡± she asks, her voice carefully modulated to betray nothing. ¡°No, that will be all, Elise,¡± Caterina replies, her tone casual as if having a man with a freshly blackened eye at her breakfast table is an everyday occurrence. ¡°Please ensure we¡¯re not disturbed for the next hour.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± The chef nods, backing away with practiced deference. As she retreats, I notice her shoot one final glance my way, something like pity flashing across her face before she disappears through a side door. A flat-screen TV mounted on the wall plays silently, captioned news scrolling across the bottom. Something about a political scandal, the stock market, a celebrity divorce, normal life continuing while mine has been turned inside out. I can see the anchor¡¯s mouth moving, but the sound has been muted, rendering her animated gestures meaningless. Caterina looks radiant this morning, dressed in a simple silk robe that somehow manages to appear both casual and elegant on her statuesque frame. ¡°You must be starving,¡± she says, her voice warm with concern. ¡°You barely ate yesterday.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I admit. The rich aromas of the breakfast spread make my mouth water involuntarily. Despite everything, my body still has basic needs, and food is definitely one of them right now. Caterina beams at my response as if my simple acknowledgment of hunger is some great victory. She picks up a fork and knife, cutting into the stack of pancakes with elegant precision. ¡°Let me feed you,¡± she offers, her crimson eyes sparkling with eagerness as she lifts a syrup-drenched bite toward my mouth. ¡°No, it¡¯s okay,¡± I say quickly, pulling back slightly. ¡°I can feed myself.¡± I reach for my own fork, but misjudge the distance completely. My hand grasps at empty air several inches from where the silverware actually sits. The lack of depth perception throws me off. ¡°Oh honey,¡± Caterina coos, her voice dripping with sympathy that makes my skin crawl. ¡°Let me help you out until your eye gets better.¡± Before I can protest, she pushes our chairs even closer together until our thighs are pressed against each other. ¡°What do you want?¡± she asks, gesturing to the elaborate spread before us. I scan the table, looking for something simple that won¡¯t require much coordination to eat. Most of the pancakes are drowning in syrup. ¡®I don¡¯t like syrup.¡¯ ¡°Can I have a pancake with the least amount of syrup on it?¡± I ask, trying to spot one that isn¡¯t completely soaked. She says, ¡°Uhhhh,¡± looking at the mountains of pancakes with syrup. Her crimson eyes scan the elaborate stack, brow furrowed in concentration. She grabs a stack and removes the first two layers, revealing a few golden discs beneath that have somehow escaped the syrupy deluge. ¡°Found some!¡± she announces triumphantly as if she¡¯s discovered buried treasure rather than unsweetened breakfast food. With surprising gentleness, she transfers the dry pancakes to my plate, arranging them with the care of a museum curator handling a priceless artifact. The pancakes land with a soft plop, perfectly centered on the fine bone china. ¡°Is this okay?¡± she asks, looking at me with an expression so earnest it¡¯s almost painful to witness. ¡°Yeah,¡± I nod, reaching for my fork again. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°I really can do it on my own,¡± I insist as i try to reach for the fork again. Caterina¡¯s hand closes over mine, stilling my movements. Her touch is warm. ¡°No,¡± she says firmly, though her voice remains gentle. ¡°When you¡¯re in pain, it¡¯s my job to nurse you back to health.¡± ¡®You were the one to hurt me.¡¯ Before I can protest further, she takes the fork from my unresisting fingers. With quick, efficient movements, she cuts the pancake into neat, bite-sized pieces. The knife makes a delicate scraping sound against the fine china as she works. ¡°Open wide,¡± she says with a smile that transforms her face, making her look almost girlish in her enthusiasm. The pancake, while plain, is surprisingly delicious. The texture is impossibly light and fluffy, like biting into a cloud that somehow maintains substance. ¡°How is it?¡± Caterina asks, leaning in close. Her crimson eyes track the movement of my jaw as I chew, fixated on my mouth with an intensity that makes heat rise to my cheeks. ¡°Good,¡± I manage after swallowing, the single word inadequate to describe the quality but all I can muster under her intense scrutiny. Caterina shifts even closer, her silk robe parting slightly to reveal the curve of her breast. Her eyes drop to my lips, lingering there with unmistakable intent. ¡°May I?¡± she whispers her voice husky with desire, her face now mere inches from mine. I want to refuse. I want to push her away, to scream that she can¡¯t just beat me one minute and expect kisses the next. I want to tell her that this whole situation is insane, that normal people don¡¯t buy other people, that relationships aren¡¯t supposed to start with violence and captivity. But what choice do I even have at this point? She¡¯s made it clear I¡¯m not going anywhere. She¡¯s a mafia boss with resources I can¡¯t begin to comprehend. If I anger her again... So I just say nothing and close my eyes, surrendering to the inevitable. Her lips meet mine, gentle at first, almost tentative. Her lips are warm and plush, moving against mine with a reverence that feels completely at odds with everything that¡¯s happened between us. Then, without warning, the kiss transforms. Her tongue breaks into my mouth like a robber blowing a bank vault, skilled and determined and unstoppable. She tastes faintly of coffee. Her tongue leads mine in a dance, coaxing, teasing, demanding response. Her hand comes up to cup my jaw, careful to avoid my injured eye, her touch firm but gentle as she angles my head to deepen the kiss further. Despite my hang-ups, despite everything that¡¯s happened, I¡¯m lost for a brief moment in the kiss. My body responds traitorously, a warm current of desire flowing through me as she explores my mouth with practiced expertise. As Caterina¡¯s tongue explores my mouth, I find myself responding against my better judgment. My hand drifts to her thigh, feeling the smooth silk of her robe and the warmth of her skin beneath. ¡®Fuck this. If I¡¯m stuck, I¡¯m going to at least enjoy her body.¡¯ She moans softly into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, igniting something primal that I¡¯ve been trying desperately to suppress. Her fingers thread through my hair, careful to avoid the tender areas around my swollen eye. My cock stiffens beneath the silk pajama bottoms she provided me this morning, tenting the expensive fabric in a way that¡¯s impossible to hide. Caterina notices immediately, her crimson eyes flicking downward before returning to my face with a triumphant gleam. ¡°Someone¡¯s feeling better,¡± she purrs her voice a husky whisper that sends shivers down my spine. Her hand slides from my hair down my chest, her fingers trailing fire through the thin cotton of my t-shirt. She traces lazy circles around my nipple, teasing it into a hard peak before continuing her downward journey. Each touch feels electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my groin. I hate how good it feels. I hate that I want her even after everything that¡¯s happened. I hate the way my breath catches when her fingers dip below my waistband, brushing against the sensitive skin of my lower abdomen. ¡°Cat,¡± I gasp, the word half-protest, half-plea. She smirks, clearly enjoying the power she holds over me. Her hand inches lower, tantalizingly close to where I¡¯m throbbing with need. ¡°Yes, my love?¡± she asks, feigning innocence even as her fingers dance along the elastic of my waistband. I¡¯m about to give in, to surrender completely to the desire coursing through my veins, when movement on the TV screen catches my eye. The news is still playing silently, but words scrolling across the bottom of the screen make me freeze. ¡®President Jill Biden addresses nation on economic policy¡¯ [A/n: Current setting is fall 2024. Also, I am not a Chargers fan.] I blink, certain I¡¯ve misread. But no, there it is in bold text, clear as day. ¡°Look at that,¡± I say, nodding toward the screen, momentarily distracted from Caterina¡¯s seduction. She follows my gaze, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. ¡°What?¡± ¡°They have a typo,¡± I explain, pointing at the TV. Caterina squints at the screen, her perfect features scrunching up adorably as she tries to spot the error. ¡°What typo?¡± ¡°Jill Biden isn¡¯t the president,¡± I say, as if explaining something obvious. Caterina pulls back slightly, her crimson eyes widening with genuine confusion. ¡°What?¡± she asks, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows drawing together. ¡°Jill Biden has been president for almost four years now.¡± ¡°What?¡± I sputter, my good eye darting between her face and the television screen. ¡°No, Joe Biden is president.¡± Caterina stares at me as if I¡¯ve suddenly started speaking in tongues. ¡°Joe Biden is the First Gentleman,¡± Caterina says slowly, her tone suggesting she¡¯s explaining something painfully obvious. ¡°Has been since the 2020 election.¡± My jaw literally drops open, hanging slack as the implications of this information cascade through my mind like dominoes. Memories flash before me in rapid succession, the female doorman, the female chef, Maddy¡¯s position as bodyguard, Claire wanting to fuck me in the shower, it was even women that gang raped me. ¡°Oh my God,¡± I whisper, my voice barely audible. ¡°I¡¯m in a reverse world.¡± ¡®Just like the slop I loved to read in my last world.¡¯ ¡°What?¡± Caterina asks, her perfectly sculpted features contorting with bewilderment. ¡°Adam, what are you talking about?¡± My mind races, connecting dots that suddenly form a clear and terrifying picture. The gender dynamics, the power structures, everything is flipped. Women dominate society, politics, even organized crime. Women are strong. Men are weak. Men are demure. Men are vulnerable. ¡®I need to test this theory immediately.¡¯ ¡°If I said I wanted to fuck you right now,¡± I blurt out, my voice surprisingly steady despite the chaos in my mind, ¡°what would you say?¡± Caterina¡¯s expression transforms instantly. The confusion melts away, replaced by a predatory hunger that makes her crimson eyes gleam like polished rubies. Her perfect lips curve into a smirk that¡¯s equal parts seductive and dangerous, a look that screams dominance and desire in equal measure. ¡°Bring it on.¡± Chapter 10: I Can’t Stop Winning I don¡¯t know what¡¯s come over me. Maybe it¡¯s the revelation that I¡¯m in some gender-reversed world, maybe it¡¯s the pent-up frustration from being sold like property, or maybe it¡¯s just that Caterina¡¯s body is a fucking masterpiece that I can¡¯t resist anymore. Whatever the reason, I¡¯ve snapped. Our clothes lie scattered across the floor like casualties of war. The breakfast spread has been pushed aside, plates and silverware hastily shoved to one end of the polished mahogany table. A pitcher of orange juice teeters dangerously close to the edge, wobbling with each powerful thrust of my hips. Caterina is bent over the table, her perfect ass raised high, her magnificent breasts pressed against the cool wood. Her golden hair cascades down her back like a waterfall of sunlight, swaying with each impact of my body against hers. Her hands grip the edges of the table so tightly her knuckles have turned white as if she¡¯s afraid she might float away if she lets go. I¡¯m behind her, my hands gripping her hips for dear life as I slam into her again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by our mingled moans and gasps. The table creaks ominously beneath us, fine china rattling like we¡¯re experiencing an earthquake centered precisely where our bodies join. ¡°Fuck,¡± I grunt. ¡°You feel so fucking good.¡± Caterina whimpers beneath me, a sound so unexpected from the powerful woman who purchased me that it sends a fresh surge of arousal through my veins. Her inner walls clench around me, hot and tight. ¡°I¡¯m only¡ªah!¡ªletting you take charge this once,¡± she manages between moans, her words coming out staccato as my thrusts interrupt her speech. ¡°Because I hurt you. But this is fucking embarrassing.¡± I lean forward, my chest pressing against her back, my mouth close to her ear. My injured eye throbs with the exertion, but the pain only seems to sharpen the pleasure, creating a heady cocktail of sensations that has me teetering on the edge of sanity. ¡°Shhhhhhh,¡± I whisper, my breath hot against her ear. ¡°Dirty talk or don¡¯t talk at all.¡± She doesn¡¯t seem to like the challenge at all. Her body goes rigid beneath me, and I can feel the shift in her energy immediately, like a storm front moving in. ¡°Excuse me?¡± she hisses, her voice dropping to a dangerous register that makes my heart skip a beat. ¡°Did you just try to command me?¡± Before I can respond, Caterina reaches back with lightning speed, her hand finding my hip with unerring precision. Her fingers dig into my flesh with bruising force, stopping my momentum mid-thrust. ¡°Just fucking stay still and let your mistress show you how it¡¯s done,¡± she growls, the words rumbling from deep in her chest. I freeze, my cock still buried to the hilt inside her. The sudden shift in power is disorienting, leaving me lightheaded as blood rushes from my brain straight to my groin. Caterina doesn¡¯t wait for my agreement. With a nimbleness that seems impossible for someone bent over a dining table, she begins to move. Her supple ass pushes back against me, taking control of our rhythm with devastating precision. Each backward thrust is calculated for maximum impact, her body swallowing mine with an expertise that leaves me gasping. The tempo increases gradually, building like a symphony reaching its crescendo. Sweat beads on my forehead, trickling down into my good eye as I struggle to remain upright. My legs tremble with the effort of keeping still while Caterina works her body against mine with furious determination. ¡°Oh god, Cat,¡± I moan helplessly as the pressure builds inside me, coiling tighter with each skillful movement of her hips. ¡°I¡¯m going to fucking cum.¡± Her internal muscles clench around me in response, squeezing my cock with deliberate pressure that sends stars exploding behind my eyelids. The sensation is so intense it borders on painful, pleasure stretched to its breaking point. ¡°That¡¯s right, baby,¡± she purrs, her voice honeyed despite the ferocity of her movements. ¡°Cum in me. Cum deep inside your lover.¡± She arches her back impossibly further, changing the angle so that I hit a spot deep within her that makes her gasp. ¡°Show me how much you need me, baby,¡± she commands me. Her words push me over the edge. I lurch forward, wrapping my arms around her waist and hugging her tightly as my entire body convulses with pleasure. My face presses against her back, my lips brushing against her sweat-slicked skin as I begin moaning wildly, the sounds escaping me primal and unrestrained. ¡°Cat... oh god, Cat,¡± I whimper, my voice breaking as the orgasm tears through me like a tornado. My hips stutter against her perfect ass, all rhythm lost in the overwhelming tide of sensation. The world narrows to just this moment, just our bodies joined together as I empty myself inside her. Each pulse of my cock sends another wave of ecstasy crashing through me, my nerves singing with a pleasure so intense it borders on agony. I squeeze her body tighter, my fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her stomach as if I¡¯m afraid she might disappear if I let go. ¡®Fuck, I¡¯m the type of guy to fall in love with a girl that lets me cum in her,¡¯ I think hazily as my seed pumps deeper and deeper inside her. The thought floats through my mind like a neon sign, embarrassing but undeniable in this moment of complete vulnerability. I continue to moan and groan, unintelligible sounds escaping my lips as I blast my hot load deeper and deeper into her waiting body. Her pussy milks me expertly, squeezing around my length with perfect pressure, coaxing out every last drop until I¡¯m completely spent. ¡°That¡¯s it, baby,¡± Caterina purrs, her voice thick with satisfaction as she feels me throbbing inside her. ¡°Give it all to me.¡± As the final waves of orgasm wash through me, my legs begin to tremble violently, muscles quivering from exertion and pleasure. My knees buckle without warning, sending me staggering backward, my softening cock slipping free from Caterina¡¯s body with an obscene wet sound. I collapse onto the plush carpet, landing hard on my ass with a muffled thud. My chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath, sweat cooling rapidly on my flushed skin. I watch as a thick rivulet of my cum trickles down the inside of Caterina¡¯s thigh, marking her perfect skin with evidence of our coupling. ¡°Adam!¡± Caterina gasps, spinning around with surprising agility. Her crimson eyes widen with alarm as she takes in my crumpled form on the floor. ¡°Are you okay?¡± She drops to her knees beside me. Concern etches itself across her perfect features. I stare up at her, taking in her flushed cheeks. ¡°Your pussy is unreal,¡± I finally manage to wheeze out, the words tumbling from my lips before my brain can filter them. Caterina¡¯s expression transforms instantly, concern melting into delight. A smile spreads across her face, radiant as sunrise, her crimson eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and amusement. She glows visibly prideful at the compliment, shoulders straightening, chin tilting upward in a gesture of unmistakable satisfaction. ¡°So you¡¯ll give me a chance?¡± she asks, her voice soft yet eager, like a child asking for a promised treat. The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications. A horrifying thought suddenly crystallizes in my mind, cutting through the post-orgasmic haze like a knife. ¡®Being with her is like being with a richer female Tony Soprano. Unpredictable. Violent. Possessive. Powerful beyond measure.¡¯ ¡®Is my life over? Is this just a prison?¡¯ The thought sends a chill down my spine despite the lingering warmth of our passionate encounter. As I ponder her question, I can¡¯t help but wonder, What choice do I even have? I say nothing. Instead, I hold out my arms, a wordless invitation for her to come closer. It¡¯s easier than answering, easier than confronting the reality of my situation. Besides, despite everything, the violence, the manipulation, the fact that I¡¯ve essentially been purchased like cattle, my body craves her warmth. The postcoital dysphoria demands it. Caterina¡¯s face softens immediately. Without hesitation, she crawls into my outstretched arms, her magnificent body pressing against mine as we lay tangled together on the dining room floor. She nestles her head against my chest, her golden hair spreading across my skin like spilled sunlight. Her weight feels surprisingly right against me, her curves fitting perfectly against the planes of my body as if we were made for each other. ¡°I promise you won¡¯t regret it, Adam,¡± she whispers, her breath warm against my skin. Her voice carries a reverence that catches me off guard as if she¡¯s making a sacred vow rather than speaking to a man she¡¯s essentially kidnapped. ¡°I love you.¡± ¡®Fuck. This woman is going to kill me someday, isn¡¯t she?¡¯ ***** [Claire¡¯s POV] The slots make that irritating electronic melody as I feed another twenty into the hungry machine. The casino floor pulses with noise and flashing lights, a sensory overload designed to make you forget about time, money, and all your terrible life choices, like selling your husband to your psychotic boss. I pull the lever with more force than necessary, watching the digital wheels spin in a blur of colors. It¡¯s almost hypnotic, this moment of suspended possibility before the inevitable disappointment, just like my life. ¡°Come on, come on, come on,¡± I mutter, tapping my foot anxiously against the base of the machine. The wheels stop one by one. Cherry, cherry, lemon. Nothing. ¡°Fuck!¡± I slam my palm against the machine, earning disapproving glances from the elderly woman at the neighboring slot. I don¡¯t care. I¡¯ve got bigger problems than being judged by some grandmother with an oxygen tank. I shouldn¡¯t be here. I promised Adam I¡¯d get help, ¡°whatever it takes,¡± I¡¯d said through pathetic, hiccupping sobs while kneeling on our living room floor. That was yesterday. And yet here I am, back at the casino, the very place where I work, shoving money into the same machines that helped kickstart this whole nightmare. The irony isn¡¯t lost on me. I¡¯m using the cash I found stashed in that ridiculous Birkin bag Caterina gave Adam, my husband, my Adam, to dig myself deeper into the hole that made me sell him in the first place. But I can¡¯t stop. When I found the cash this morning, stuffed carelessly in the closet inside that stupidly expensive bag, something in me just snapped. Five thousand dollars, just sitting there. Caterina¡¯s pocket change, probably, but to me it was a lifeline, a chance, five thousand little reasons to believe I could win it all back. Win what back? Adam? My dignity? My life before gambling consumed everything? I know it¡¯s insane. But then, what part of my life isn¡¯t insane right now? Caterina gave me the week off to ¡°get my head on straight.¡± I should be at a Gamblers Anonymous meeting. I should be researching therapists. I should be doing literally anything except what I¡¯m doing right now. But the pull was too strong. The what-ifs are too tempting. What if this is the day my luck changes? What if I win enough to buy Adam back? What if, what if, what if... ¡°Claire at the slot machines again. Are you fucking serious? With all you lost?¡± The voice cuts through the electronic cacophony of the casino like a blade. I freeze, my finger hovering over the spin button as if caught in the act of something far more shameful than gambling. I know that voice. That slightly unhinged, musical lilt that always sounds like its owner is perpetually on the edge of violence. Slowly, I turn around. Lara Rosso, one of Caterina¡¯s top girls, stands behind me, her tall, lean frame practically vibrating with manic energy. Her long red hair cascades down her back like bloody water. Those intense blue eyes of hers are wide with genuine amusement, dancing with barely contained mania as she takes in the sight of me hunched over the slot machine like a junkie getting a fix. ¡°I¡­¡± I begin, but she cuts me off with a burst of laughter so loud that several nearby gamblers turn to stare. ¡°Oh my GOD!¡± Lara howls, actually doubling over, her perfectly tailored suit jacket stretching across her shoulders as her body shakes with uncontrolled mirth. ¡°This is too fucking perfect!¡± She straightens up, wiping an actual tear from the corner of her eye, her angular features contorted in a grin that¡¯s too wide, too delighted, like a shark that¡¯s just spotted a bleeding swimmer. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­¡± I try and fail again. ¡°You¡¯re just what?¡± Lara interrupts, taking a step closer. ¡°Throwing away more money? Digging yourself an even deeper hole? After you literally sold your husband to pay your debts?¡± Each question lands like a slap. I flinch, my eyes darting around to see if anyone¡¯s listening. But, of course, no one cares. This is a casino. People have their own problems to worry about. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°It¡¯s none of your business,¡± I mutter, knowing how pathetic I sound even as the words leave my mouth. Lara throws her head back and laughs again, the sound so genuinely amused it¡¯s almost contagious. Almost. ¡°Look,¡± she says, wiping another tear from her eye, ¡°I get I¡¯m not exactly a good person¡­¡± she breaks off, overcome by another fit of laughter, her blue eyes sparkling with genuine delight at my misery, ¡°but what you¡¯re doing...¡± She can¡¯t even finish the sentence. Her laughter echoes through the casino floor, drawing more stares our way. I feel my face heating up, shame burning through me like acid. ¡°What you¡¯re doing is just evil,¡± she finally manages, her voice choked with hilarity. ¡°I mean, game recognize game, Claire. I¡¯m honestly impressed.¡± Lara Rosso: Claire (The winner): Chapter 11: Caterina’s Monster [Adam¡¯s POV] Caterina and I walk out of the shower, steam billowing around us like a foggy morning. Her golden hair is damp, dripping down her back in wet waves as she wraps herself in a towel. My left eye is still swollen and black, a glaring reminder of how I ended up here in this absurdly luxurious hotel suite. She stands in front of the mirror, drying off with deliberate strokes that somehow manage to be both casual and seductive. Her eyes meet mine in the reflection, a manic smile curling her lips. ¡°You really like fucking me, don¡¯t you?¡± she says with a teasing twang. ¡°We had to clean ourselves three times.¡± I feel a pang of regret for giving in so easily, but it was hard not to when she looks like that, like an Amazonian goddess with mafia connections. I try to play it cool. ¡°Well,¡± I say, pulling on the t-shirt and pajama bottoms she bought for me, ¡°you paid four hundred thousand dollars for me. I gotta give you your money¡¯s worth, right?¡± She looks at the swelling with a slight frown. ¡°Do you want me to get a doctor to look at it?¡± I blink, caught off guard by the concern in her voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admit, feeling a bit sheepish. ¡°I¡¯ve never had a black eye before.¡± Caterina steps closer, gently gripping my chin and turning my head for a better view. She sighs, a soft sound that carries more weight than I expect. ¡°Can you see out of it?¡± she asks, her crimson eyes watching me intently. I squint a little, wincing at the pressure. The vision doesn¡¯t seem too bad, just swollen nearly shut. ¡°Yeah,¡± I say finally. ¡°It¡¯s mostly just puffy.¡± Her fingers linger on my face. She holds my chin in place and kisses the bruised skin. The tenderness of the gesture is so at odds with the violence she inflicted last night. ¡°There,¡± she murmurs, pulling back slightly to examine her handiwork. ¡°Hopefully, that will help with the swelling.¡± I say nothing. I¡¯m not sure how to respond to that. Caterina doesn¡¯t seem bothered by my silence. She simply smiles, her crimson eyes gleaming with an emotion I can¡¯t quite decipher, before taking my hand and leading me back to the presidential suite bedroom. The room looks different in the morning light. Less intimidating, somehow. The massive four-poster bed where I was tied up last night has been made, the silk sheets pulled taut, erasing all evidence of what happened there. It¡¯s as if the room itself is pretending, along with Caterina, that everything is normal, that this is just an ordinary morning between lovers. She walks to the closet and pulls out a suit that must have been brought up this morning. It¡¯s a deep blue color. She lays it carefully on the bed before slipping off her towel, completely comfortable in her nakedness. I watch as she dresses, transfixed by the change. Each piece of clothing she puts on seems to add another layer to her persona, not just covering her body but building a formidable woman who commands respect and fear in equal measure. First, the crisp white shirt, then the perfectly tailored pants that hug her curves in all the right places. With each button fastened, each zipper pulled, Caterina the lover recedes, and Caterina the mafia boss emerges. It¡¯s like watching Tony Stark slap on the suit. ¡°Caterina De Luca was able to build this in a cave! With a box of scraps!" I mutter to myself. ¡°Huh?¡± She says to me, oblivious to my fire reference. ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°Look, honey,¡± she says as she shrugs into the matching jacket, her voice taking on a more businesslike tone, ¡°I have to go to work, okay?¡± Work?¡± I repeat stupidly. For some reason, I hadn¡¯t considered that mob bosses have regular schedules, that they go to ¡®work¡¯ like normal people. She nods, adjusting her cuffs with meticulous precision. ¡°You can text me if you have any issues. Madison is downstairs, god forbid you need anything.¡± I stare at her blankly, feeling like I¡¯ve missed something important. ¡°Wait, I can just... stay here? In the presidential suite?¡± Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes soften as she looks at me, a smile playing at the corners of her perfect lips. ¡°Of course, darling. This is where we¡¯re staying until my penthouse renovated. It should be ready in a couple of weeks.¡± ¡°A couple of weeks?¡± I repeat, my voice rising slightly in pitch. ¡°We¡¯re staying in a hotel for weeks?¡± She laughs as if my confusion is somehow endearing. ¡°Adam, I own this hotel. The Luciano is part of the De Luca empire.¡± She says this casually, like mentioning she owns a coffee maker or a toaster, not an entire luxury establishment. ¡°Oh,¡± I say, the single syllable utterly inadequate to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. ¡°Right. Of course, you do.¡± Caterina walks over to the dresser, picking up her wallet. The smooth leather glides through her fingers as she opens it with a practiced flick of her wrist. From within, she extracts a sleek black credit card. There¡¯s something about the way it gleams that suggests this isn¡¯t your average piece of plastic. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She extends it toward me, the card balanced delicately between her long, elegant fingers. ¡°Here,¡± she says casually. ¡°Just charge anything you want, okay?¡± I stare at the card, momentarily forgetting to breathe. The black surface is so dark it seems to absorb the light around it, and when I finally take it from her, I¡¯m surprised by its weight. It¡¯s heavier than it should be. ¡°Is it metal?¡± I ask, turning the card over in my hands with a mixture of awe and confusion. Caterina smiles indulgently, her crimson eyes dancing with amusement. It¡¯s the kind of smile you¡¯d give a child who¡¯s just asked if the moon is made of cheese, fond but tinged with gentle condescension. ¡°Yes, honey, it¡¯s a metal credit card,¡± she explains, watching me like I¡¯m a particularly entertaining pet. ¡°Titanium, actually.¡± ¡°Interesting,¡± I say, pretending I understand. ¡®Credit cards must just be metal in this world. Wild.¡¯ She steps closer. Before I can process what¡¯s happening, her hands are on my waist, pulling me toward her with gentle insistence. I think about pulling away, about maintaining some semblance of dignity or resistance, but her touch ignites something in me that¡¯s becoming alarmingly familiar. At her touch, I already want more. The realization is both annoying and exhilarating. I try to keep my eye on the target, survival. That¡¯s what this is about, I remind myself. Getting through this bizarre situation with my sanity intact. Nothing more. She leans in for a kiss, her crimson eyes closing as her perfect lips approach mine. Despite minimal effort on my part to reciprocate, I give in fast. Too fast. Her mouth captures mine with practiced ease, her tongue teasing and exploring as if she has all the time in the world. ¡®Dude, I would not make it if Isis kidnapped me in this world.¡¯ It¡¯s okay to enjoy these moments, I tell myself as I surrender to the sensation. It¡¯s not like I have anything else to ground me. My old life is gone, My new life shattered by Claire¡¯s betrayal and Caterina¡¯s violent possession. In this new reality, perhaps these fleeting moments of pleasure are all I can hope for. Her tongue dances with mine, a waltz of passion and possession. Her lips, soft as velvet yet demanding as steel, move against mine with practiced precision. The kiss deepens, her hand sliding up to cradle the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair with just enough pressure to send shivers cascading down my spine. I melt into her embrace, my body betraying my mind¡¯s admittedly weak protests. My hands find her waist, the crisp fabric of her suit jacket smooth beneath my fingertips. I can feel the heat of her skin through the expensive material, calling to me like a siren song. Her teeth graze my lower lip, a gentle nip that makes me gasp against her mouth. She takes advantage of my parted lips, her tongue delving deeper, claiming every inch of me with a thoroughness that leaves me breathless. My knees weaken, and I sway slightly, grateful for her steadying grip. A small, embarrassing whimper escapes me when she finally pulls away. Her crimson eyes are dark with desire, her pupils dilated as she gazes at me with an intensity that makes my heart stutter in my chest. She places a finger against my lips. ¡°Save that for tonight,¡± she purrs, her voice husky with want. I nod dumbly, still dazed from the kiss, my lips tingling where hers had been moments before. As she gathers her things, preparing to leave, a thought strikes me. ¡°Am I allowed to hang out with my sister while you¡¯re gone?¡± I ask, my voice smaller than I¡¯d like. Caterina pauses. Her expression shifts, annoyance flickering across her perfect features like a shadow. The sudden change makes my stomach knot with anxiety, my body tensing instinctively. ¡®Fuck.¡¯ ¡°Not until your eye has fully healed,¡± she says, her tone brooking no argument. She smiles wide. ¡°Unless you want to tell her, Claire did it.¡± I see no reason to stir the pot in such a dramatic way. ¡°I¡¯ll just stay inside today, then,¡± I say with a resigned shrug. Caterina nods, seemingly pleased with my decision. Her crimson eyes soften slightly, and she steps forward to give me one last quick peck on the lips. ¡°Be good,¡± she murmurs against my mouth. ¡°I¡¯ll be thinking of you all day.¡± ¡°Bye,¡± I say simply, watching as she turns and strides toward the door, her movement fluid and confident. She pauses at the threshold, glancing back over her shoulder. ¡°Goodbye, Adam,¡± she says, and then she¡¯s gone, the heavy door clicking shut behind her with a sound of finality that echoes through the empty suite. ***** A few hours pass, and it¡¯s lunchtime. I pocket the titanium credit card, running my thumb over its smooth surface. The weight of it feels strange in my jeans like I¡¯m carrying something illicit. The black eye throbs dully as I make my way to the elevator, a constant reminder of last night¡¯s violence. The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, revealing the same car that brought us up yesterday. I step inside and press the button for the lobby. My stomach lurches slightly with the motion, or maybe it¡¯s just nerves. I haven¡¯t been alone in public since I got this shiner. What if someone recognizes me as Caterina¡¯s new toy? What if I do something wrong and it gets back to her? ¡®Stop it,¡¯ I tell myself firmly. ¡®You¡¯re just going to get some food. That¡¯s normal. She didn¡¯t explicitly forbid it.¡¯ The elevator slows to a stop, and I take a deep breath as the doors slide open, revealing the gleaming marble expanse of the lobby. It¡¯s busier now than it was last night, filled with well-dressed businesswomen moving with purpose, hotel staff attending to guests with practiced efficiency. The elevator doors slide open, and I step into the lavish lobby of The Luciano. The midday sun streams through the massive windows, catching on the crystal chandeliers and sending prismatic rainbows dancing across the marble floors. The space bustles with activity, women in tailored business suits striding purposefully across the lobby, bellhops maneuvering luggage carts with practiced precision, concierges bent toward guests in attentive conversation. I hesitate at the threshold of the elevator, suddenly feeling exposed. The black eye pulses beneath my gaze as if reminding me of my new status in this world. A man owned. A man marked. My fingers instinctively drift toward my face, hovering near the swollen tissue without quite touching it. ¡®It¡¯s kind of hot being owned, but I¡¯m not going to tell Cat that.¡¯ As I take my first tentative step into the lobby, I spot her immediately. Maddy stands near the entrance, her tall frame perfectly still amidst the flow of movement around her. Her sharp green eyes scan the lobby in a continuous sweep, missing nothing. Her attention snaps to me the moment I emerge from the elevator. Recognition flashes across her face, followed immediately by surprise. She moves toward me with quick, purposeful strides, weaving through the crowd with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to navigating obstacles. ¡°What¡¯s up? Is everything alright?¡± Madison asks as she reaches me, her voice low and concerned. Her eyes flicker to my swollen eye and then quickly away as if trying not to stare at the damage her boss inflicted. She glances around the lobby, her posture subtly shifting to place herself between me and the main entrance. ¡°I¡¯m feeling hungry,¡± I explain, awkwardly shifting my weight from one foot to the other under her intense scrutiny. Madison¡¯s eyebrows rise slightly. ¡°We have room service, you know. You won¡¯t even have to bat an eye.¡± The moment the words leave her mouth, she winces visibly, her gaze darting to my swollen eye. Horror washes over her features as she realizes her unfortunate choice of words. ¡°Sorry,¡± she says quickly, looking genuinely mortified. I can¡¯t help it. A laugh bubbles up from my chest, surprising both of us with its genuine sound. It feels good to laugh, even if it makes my eye throb a little harder. ¡°No, I think it¡¯s great that you¡¯re making fun of my eye,¡± I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯m happy you can appreciate your boss¡¯s artwork.¡± Madison¡¯s eyes widen to saucers, her normally composed face transforming into a mask of absolute horror. Her mouth opens and closes several times, resembling a fish suddenly plucked from water and gasping for life on dry land. ¡°No¡­ I¡¯d never¡­¡± she stammers, her voice jumping an octave higher than her usual controlled tone. Her hands fly up in a defensive gesture, palms out as if physically pushing away the very suggestion. ¡°Miss De Luca would¡­I mean, I would never dream of¡­¡± ¡°Relax,¡± I say, unable to suppress my grin. ¡°I¡¯m just joking with you.¡± The relief that washes over her face is so palpable it¡¯s almost comical. Her shoulders slump forward as she exhales, a breath she must have been holding since I made my comment. She runs a hand through her short, dark hair, disturbing its perfect styling. ¡°Christ,¡± she mutters, regaining some of her composure, though her voice still trembles slightly. ¡°Don¡¯t do that to me, Adam. You have no idea...¡± I decide to take pity on her. ¡°The room service food was too weird,¡± I explain, shoving my hands into my pockets. ¡°I just want like a plain cheeseburger or something.¡± Madison nods quickly, eager to move past the moment of panic. Her professional demeanor slides back into place like a familiar mask, though her eyes still hold a lingering wariness, as if I might suddenly accuse her of something else equally terrifying. ¡°Yeah, I can get them to make you that,¡± she says, her voice steadier now. She glances toward the elevators, then back to me. ¡°Go back to your room, and I¡¯ll bring it to you, okay?¡± I can¡¯t resist one more little jab. I feign a frown. ¡°Is it because I look like Frankenstein?¡± I ask, gesturing to my swollen eye with exaggerated dismay. ¡®Is Frankenstein Jewish?¡¯ I can¡¯t help but wonder in this moment. The panic returns instantly, flooding her features like a tidal wave. Her eyes grow impossibly wider, and I swear I can see her pulse throbbing in the vein at her temple. Her hands begin that frantic dance again, gesturing wildly in denial. ¡°No, no, no, that¡¯s not¡­¡± she begins, her voice cracking with distress. ¡°I¡¯m fucking with you, Maddy,¡± I chuckle, shaking my head slightly. ¡°I get it. You actually think i look like Frankenstein¡¯s monster.¡± Chapter 12: Aww Dang It I¡¯m eating at the dining table across from Maddy, who also got a cheeseburger. The Presidential Suite¡¯s dining area feels less intimidating without Caterina¡¯s overwhelming presence. My burger is exactly what I wanted, simple, unpretentious comfort food. The first bite is heaven, juicy, and perfectly cooked. Grease drips down my fingers as I devour it with embarrassing enthusiasm, not caring how I look. Maddy eats hers with more restraint, taking small, measured bites between glances at her phone. The silence between us isn¡¯t exactly comfortable, but it¡¯s not unbearable either. ¡°How¡¯s the eye?¡± she finally asks, breaking the quiet. Her voice is casual, but I can see the genuine concern in her green eyes as they flick up to my swollen face. I swallow my mouthful of burger and wipe my greasy fingers on a napkin before responding. ¡°Maddy, it¡¯s great,¡± I say, deadpan. ¡°It makes me feel beautiful and strong.¡± She freezes mid-bite, her eyes widening slightly before she catches the sarcasm. A snort escapes her, followed by a short burst of laughter that she quickly tries to suppress. ¡°Sorry,¡± she says, composing herself. ¡°It¡¯s just... you¡¯re not what I expected.¡± ¡°What did you expect?¡± I ask, curious despite myself. Maddy sets her burger down, considering her words carefully. ¡°Someone more intimidated, I guess. Most men would be terrified after...¡± She trails off, gesturing vaguely toward my face. I take another bite of my burger, chewing slowly as I consider Maddy¡¯s words. The juicy meat has lost some of its flavor, turning bland in my mouth as the reality of my situation settles over me like a heavy blanket. I set the burger down, suddenly less hungry than before. ¡°Maddy, I am terrified,¡± I sigh. The admission feels like releasing a breath I¡¯ve been holding since Caterina left this morning. ¡°I just don¡¯t know what else to do.¡± The words hang in the air between us, raw and honest, in a way that makes the opulent room feel smaller, more intimate. Maddy looks around awkwardly, her gaze darting to the corners of the room as if checking for hidden cameras or listening devices. Her shoulders slump slightly, the perfect posture of the professional bodyguard giving way to something more human, more vulnerable. ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± she says simply. I lean forward, lowering my voice even further. My heart pounds against my ribs like a trapped bird. ¡°Can you really get me out like you said last night?¡± The question seems to physically impact Maddy. She stiffens, her hand freezing halfway to her mouth with a french fry suspended in mid-air. The fry trembles slightly, betraying the sudden tension in her fingers. She sets the fry down. When she finally meets my gaze again, her expression has shifted into something carefully neutral, a professional mask sliding into place with practiced ease. ¡°You don¡¯t even want to give her a chance?¡± she asks, her voice carefully modulated, neither judging nor encouraging. I gesture to my face, the movement sharp with frustration. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like I can trust her.¡± Maddy¡¯s eyes soften slightly, a flicker of sympathy breaking through her professional veneer. ¡°Caterina never treats her people poorly,¡± she says with conviction, though her eyes briefly drop to the table, avoiding my gaze as she speaks. ¡°She¡¯s fair and generous to those who are loyal to her.¡± Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I point to my eye again. ¡°Right, I¡¯m so happy she would never, ever treat someone she wants to be lovers with poorly,¡± I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm so thick it practically coats the room. ¡°I mean, this black eye? Just a love tap, right? A little memento so I don¡¯t forget who I belong to.¡± The words come out harsher than I intended, echoing in the cavernous dining room of the Presidential Suite. Maddy sighs deeply, the sound coming from somewhere profound within her. ¡°Look, you¡¯re right,¡± she admits, her voice low and controlled despite the weight of her confession. ¡°I can¡¯t get you out. I probably can¡¯t even offer you any real help.¡± My composure slips completely, shattering like fine china dropped on marble. I give her a dirty look. ¡°So you lied to me,¡± I say flatly, the words falling between us like stones. ¡°Last night, when I was desperate and hurt, you just... what? Decided to give me false hope for fun?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says, meeting my gaze directly despite the discomfort evident in the tightness around her eyes. ¡°I just didn¡¯t know what to say last night. You looked so... broken.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s cool, Maddy,¡± I reply, waving a hand dismissively, my voice pitched high with exaggerated understanding. ¡°Really, it¡¯s fine. I mean, what¡¯s a little false hope between friends? Or, wait, we¡¯re not friends, are we? You¡¯re just my owner¡¯s employee, making sure the new pet doesn¡¯t run away.¡± The words hang in the air between us, ugly and mean-spirited. I don¡¯t feel bad saying them. Fuck the mob. It¡¯s not like she can do shit to me. Maddy absorbs the verbal blow with the same stoic composure she probably brings to actual physical confrontations in her line of work. ¡°Look, I can probably give you advice, okay?¡± she offers, her green eyes intense and focused. ¡°You¡¯re the only man I¡¯ve ever seen Caterina with besides her ex-husband.¡± The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, shocking me out of my self-righteous anger. My good eye widens as I process this new information, this unexpected glimpse into Caterina¡¯s past. ¡°Ex-husband?¡± I repeat, the burger completely forgotten now. A nervous flutter passes through my chest, a mixture of curiosity and dread that makes my next question tumble out before I can stop it. ¡°Did she kill him?¡± I ask, my voice barely audible, the words carrying the weight of genuine fear. Maddy quickly waves her hand in dismissal, her eyes widening at the suggestion. ¡°No, nothing like that,¡± she assures me. Suddenly, I feel a little annoyed. An ex-husband? ¡°They barely saw each other. They hated each other,¡± she explains, her eyes flicking back to mine periodically. ¡°He¡¯s the son of another family. They divorced quietly.¡± She pops a fry into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before adding, ¡°I¡¯m not joking when I say I never saw them in the same room together.¡± Relief washes over me, though I¡¯m not entirely sure why. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m jealous of Caterina¡¯s ex-husband. If anything, I should be envious that he managed to escape her orbit unscathed. ¡®Fuck. I¡¯m totally jealous.¡¯ ¡°Okay,¡± I say simply, not knowing what else to add. Maddy sets down her burger. Her expression grows even more serious. ¡°Look,¡± she says, her voice taking on an urgent quality that immediately captures my full attention, ¡°Caterina has another girl. Like me. Her name is Lara.¡± Something in the way she says the name, Lara, sends a chill down my spine. There¡¯s a weight to it, a warning embedded in those two simple syllables that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. ¡°Be careful of Lara,¡± Maddy continues, her normally composed features tightening with what appears to be genuine concern. ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯d ever do anything to you, but she¡¯s actually crazy. Like a certified psycho.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t kill a lot of people, you know,¡± Maddy says softly. ¡°But when we do...¡± She pauses, her green eyes darkening with something that looks uncomfortably like dread. ¡°Lara jumps at the opportunity. She loves it.¡± I gulp hard. ¡°What do you mean, she loves it?¡± I ask, though some part of me already knows the answer. ¡°She loves to hurt people,¡± Maddy says bluntly. ¡°And she especially loves to hurt men. You know how some people just have a job? Lara has a calling.¡± ¡°She has a particular... interest in men,¡± Maddy continues, choosing her words with obvious care. ¡°She loves to rape them. It¡¯s like a hobby for her.¡± My stomach lurches violently. ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± I mutter, setting down the fry and pushing my plate away entirely. ¡°I know you don¡¯t trust me,¡± Maddy says, her eyes locked on mine with an intensity that feels impossible to doubt. ¡°But give that girl a wide berth, okay? If you see red hair coming, walk, no. Run in the opposite direction.¡± The urgency in her voice sends another chill down my spine. Despite my earlier anger, despite the lingering sense of betrayal from her false promise of help, I can¡¯t detect any deception in her warning. This, at least, feels genuine. ¡°But why would she go after her boss¡¯s boy toy?¡± I ask, trying to sound casual despite the cold knot of fear forming in my gut. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be, like, career suicide in your world?¡± Maddy¡¯s expression grows even more grim, the corners of her mouth pulling down into a tight frown. ¡°She probably won¡¯t,¡± she admits, pushing her own plate away and leaning her elbows on the table. ¡°I hope she doesn¡¯t. Caterina would go scorched earth.¡± She pauses, and the silence stretches between us for several long seconds before she adds, ¡°But I¡¯m just saying, she¡¯s an actual wild card. If you¡¯re ever alone with her, be as careful as possible. Don¡¯t antagonize her. Don¡¯t joke around. Just... Be invisible until you can get away.¡± I sit in silence for a moment, digesting this information. The warning about Lara hangs in the air like a toxic cloud. My fingers absently trace the edge of the titanium credit card in my pocket. ¡°Look,¡± Maddy says, her voice gentler now, breaking through my spiraling thoughts. ¡°It¡¯s not all doom and gloom. Caterina genuinely cares for you. That¡¯s... rare. In our world.¡± ¡°And for what it¡¯s worth,¡± she continues, her Boston accent thickening slightly with emotion, ¡°I¡¯ve never seen her this torn up about anything. She seemed pretty shaken up for hurting you.¡± ¡°Alright, thanks then, I guess,¡± I mumble. ¡°For the warning about Lara, at least.¡± Maddy nods, understanding in her green eyes. She wipes her hands meticulously on a napkin, folding it precisely before placing it beside her half-eaten burger. ¡°I should probably get back downstairs,¡± she says, rising from her chair. ¡°Alright,¡± I reply, suddenly feeling exhausted. She pauses at the edge of the table, her tall frame casting a long shadow across the polished wood. ¡°If you need anything else, just let me know.¡± ¡°Sounds good,¡± I say, staring at the rest of my burger. ***** I¡¯m laying on the bed watching YouTube videos about the planets to make sure they¡¯re still the same here. ¡®They are, thank God.¡¯ Jupiter still has its great red spot, Saturn its rings, and Pluto its controversial dwarf planet status. At least the cosmos remained unchanged in this gender-flipped reality. I¡¯d already confirmed that World War II happened with the same outcomes, though apparently, Hitler was a woman. ¡®I wonder if it¡¯d be hot if I was a little Jewish guy being saved by a big scary Nazi officer. Enemies to lovers and all. I could be Adam Frankenstein.¡¯ ¡­¡­.. ¡®Wait, no. That¡¯s a bad thought.¡¯ The familiar ding of the elevator pulls me from my potentially offensive stream of conscience. My heart does a little jump in my chest. It¡¯s sooner than I expected, but I¡¯m honestly a tad bit excited to see Caterina. Despite everything, the violence, the possession, the overall insanity of my situation, there¡¯s something about her that draws me in like gravity. I set my phone down and slide off the bed, wincing slightly as the movement jostles my injured eye. The swelling has gone down marginally since this morning, but it still throbs with a dull, persistent ache. The elevator doors slide open with a soft hydraulic hiss, and my stomach drops to my feet. Standing in the elevator isn¡¯t Caterina with her golden hair and crimson eyes. Instead, a tall woman with striking red hair that cascades down her back in fiery waves steps into the suite. Her angular features are arranged in an expression of mild surprise at finding me waiting, her intense blue eyes locking onto me with predatory focus. Lara. It has to be. Maddy¡¯s warning from barely an hour ago echoes in my mind like a siren. ¡®If you see red hair coming, run in the opposite direction.¡¯ But my feet remain rooted to the plush carpet, my body frozen in place as she steps fully into the suite. She¡¯s dressed in an impeccably tailored grey suit that accentuates her lean frame. In her hand, she carries what I recognize as my Birkin bag, the one Caterina gifted me what feels like a lifetime ago. ¡°Hello there,¡± Lara says, her voice silky and melodic. I feel incredibly unlucky. ¡®Is this how Claire feels every day.¡¯ Chapter 13: I Wanna Be A Clairillionaire ¡°Hello there,¡± Lara says, her voice silky and melodic. I sigh unable to stop myself for what¡¯s about to happen next. ¡°General Kenobi,¡± I say as if it¡¯s my divine duty. For a moment, the world seems to freeze. My heart hammers against my ribs as I realize what I¡¯ve just done, made a nerdy Star Wars reference to the psychopathic redhead Maddy explicitly warned me about. The one who ¡°loves to hurt men¡± as a hobby. But instead of the violent reaction I¡¯m bracing for, Lara¡¯s expression transforms. Her face soften, and her blue eyes widen with delighted surprise. A smile spreads across her face, not the predatory grin I expected, but something almost childlike in its enthusiasm. ¡°A boy that likes Star Wars!¡± she exclaims, her voice rising with genuine pleasure. She clutches my Birkin bag tighter. ¡°How refreshing! Most men I meet are so busy trying to impress me they forget to be interesting.¡± The tension in my shoulders eases fractionally, though wariness still pulses through me with each heartbeat. This playful reaction doesn¡¯t match the monster Maddy described, which somehow makes her even more unsettling. ¡°I, uh... yeah. I¡¯m a man of many mysteries. ¡°I stammer out. ¡®Chat is my life, Joever?¡¯ Lara tilts her head, studying me with those intense blue eyes that seem to take in every detail, my nervous posture, my swollen eye, my disheveled appearance. There¡¯s something clinical in her gaze, like a scientist observing a particularly interesting specimen. ¡°Shall we sit? I¡¯ve brought your bag, but I¡¯d love to chat for a moment.¡± She says, her voice surprisingly gentle. She gestures toward the living area with a graceful movement of her hand. Every instinct screams at me to make an excuse, to retreat to the bedroom and lock the door until Caterina returns. But what choice do I have? Refusing might anger her, and according to Maddy, that¡¯s the last thing I want to do. ¡°Sure,¡± I agree, my voice surprisingly steady despite the fear churning in my gut. We walk to the seating area, her movements fluid and catlike beside me. The plush carpet muffles our footsteps, creating an eerie silence broken only by the soft rustle of her tailored suit. She places the Birkin bag carefully on the coffee table, treating the expensive accessory with a reverence that seems at odds with her supposedly violent nature. We settle onto opposite ends of the plush sofa, the expensive leather creaking softly beneath our weight. Lara crosses her legs with elegant precision, her posture perfect yet somehow not rigid. ¡°I like your bag,¡± she says, nodding toward the Birkin. ¡°The craftsmanship is exquisite. Caterina has excellent taste.¡± S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Thanks,¡± I reply, watching her carefully. Lara smiles warmly. ¡°Caterina is quite generous with those she cares about.¡± Her blue eyes drift to my swollen eye, and something flickers across her face, not the sadistic pleasure I might have expected, but what appears to be genuine concern. She doesn¡¯t comment on it, though, which I appreciate. ¡°I saw Claire today,¡± she says casually as if mentioning she¡¯d spotted a mutual acquaintance at the grocery store rather than the woman who sold me like property. I sigh heavily. ¡°She¡¯s alive?¡± The question comes out flat, devoid of the concern one might expect when asking about a spouse¡¯s well-being. Lara notices this, her head tilting slightly as she studies my reaction. ¡°Yes,¡± she confirms. ¡°Very much so.¡± I stare at Lara, my jaw clenching involuntarily. Claire. Even the thought of her name sends a wave of disgust crashing through me. My so-called wife, who not only failed to help when the other Adam was gang-raped but then turned around and sold me to the fucking mafia to settle her gambling debts. ¡°Is she adjusting well to her new life?¡± I ask, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into my voice. Each word tastes like ash on my tongue. Lara nods,. ¡°She seemed to be doing well,¡± she says, her tone carefully neutral. ¡°Oh, she¡¯s living happily?¡± The question comes out sharp with annoyance. I picture Claire, free of both her debt and her husband, perhaps celebrating her newfound liberation with a nice dinner or shopping spree, while I sit here with a black eye and an uncertain future. Lara¡¯s perfect brow furrows slightly. ¡°No,¡± she says slowly, deliberately. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say she¡¯s living happily. I¡¯d never say that.¡± I nod, dropping my gaze to my hands. ¡°I¡¯m not really a big fan of Claire at this point,¡± I admit quietly. The understatement of the century. What I feel for Claire has transcended mere dislike, morphing into something cold and hard that sits like a stone in my chest. Lara¡¯s expression softens, a sympathetic frown pulling at her lips. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± she says, and the gentleness in her voice catches me off guard. ¡°Marriage should be a sacred bond. Breaking that trust...¡± She trails off, shaking her head slightly. Her blue eyes drift to my swollen eye again, lingering longer this time. Something shifts in her expression, a calculation happening behind those intense eyes. She leans forward slightly. ¡°Do you want me to save you?¡± The question hangs in the air between us, so unexpected that for a moment, I wonder if I¡¯ve misheard. I blink at her with my good eye, confusion washing over me. ¡°What?¡± I manage, my voice barely audible. ¡°I¡¯ve saved dozens of people from Caterina and the rest of the mob,¡± she continues, her voice still low, intimate, as if sharing a precious secret. Her blue eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes it difficult to look away. ¡°Men and women like you who found themselves trapped in situations they never asked for.¡± The question hangs in the air between us, so unexpected that for a moment, I wonder if I¡¯ve misheard. I blink at her with my good eye, confusion washing over me. I stare at her, trying to keep my expression neutral despite the alarm bells clanging in my head. Something feels off about this entire interaction. The way she just happened to show up with my bag, the casual mention of Claire, and now this sudden offer of salvation, it¡¯s too convenient, too perfectly engineered to prey on my desperation. ¡®This is a test,¡¯ I realize with startling clarity. ¡®She¡¯s testing my loyalty to Caterina.¡¯ I remember Maddy¡¯s warning about Lara being unpredictable, dangerous, someone who enjoys hurting men. What better way to justify hurting me than to catch me plotting escape? ¡°Caterina has taken other men before me?¡± I ask a bit annoyed that Maddy may have lied to me. ¡°Am I just the latest in a long line?¡± Lara¡¯s expression shifts subtly, something flashing behind those intense blue eyes. ¡°No,¡± she says, shaking her head slowly. ¡°You¡¯re quite special to her. Caterina doesn¡¯t take male companions. You¡¯re the first I¡¯ve seen in... well, ever.¡± The confirmation of what Maddy told me earlier makes my heart rate kick up a notch. I¡¯m not just another toy to Caterina, I¡¯m something unique. The knowledge should terrify me, but instead, it sends an unexpected flutter through my chest. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be saved,¡± I say, the lie feeling better than I expected. ¡°I¡¯m staying with Caterina.¡± Lara studies me intently, her gaze so penetrating I feel like she¡¯s trying to peel back my skin to examine the truth beneath. Her head tilts slightly, red hair cascading over one shoulder like a curtain of blood. ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asks, her voice taking on an almost maternal quality, gentle and concerned. ¡°This is your chance. I can help you disappear, start a new life somewhere Caterina would never find you.¡± I force myself to stay composed, to meet her gaze without flinching. Every instinct screams at me to accept her offer, to grab this lifeline and run. But the rational part of my brain, the part that¡¯s keeping me alive, knows better. This is a trap, an elegantly laid snare designed to catch me in an act of betrayal. ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± I say, keeping my voice steady. ¡°Caterina has been good to me. Last night was... a misunderstanding.¡± I gesture vaguely toward my swollen eye, trying to appear casual about the violence inflicted upon me less than twenty-four hours ago. ¡°I provoked her. It won¡¯t happen again.¡± The words taste like copper in my mouth, bitter and metallic, but I maintain eye contact with Lara, refusing to blink or look away. Every muscle in my body is tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap at the slightest provocation. There seems to be a brief hint of pity in Lara¡¯s eyes before she pulls herself back. Finally, something in her expression shifts. Her shoulders relax. ¡°Alright,¡± she says, her voice lighter now, the maternal concern evaporating like morning dew. ¡°Well, I¡¯m gonna take a shit and bounce.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± I blurt out, my carefully maintained composure cracking under the weight of a new and confusing panic. ¡°You gotta be careful not to say stuff like that.¡± Now it¡¯s Lara¡¯s turn to look confused, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows drawing together in a delicate frown. ¡°What?¡± she asks, genuine puzzlement in her voice. ¡°At my old job, I used to love making shit jokes,¡± I explain with a warning that transcends social order, ¡°but then everyone accused me of having a scat fetish.¡± Lara stares at me, her expression a perfect blend of disbelief and bewilderment. ¡°You think I have a scat fetish because I said I have to shit? I didn¡¯t even make a shit joke, Adam.¡± she finally asks, her voice carefully controlled, as if she¡¯s speaking to someone particularly fragile or deranged. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think you do,¡± I reply hastily, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. ¡°But someone else might. You know how people are, they hear one bathroom joke and suddenly they¡¯re convinced you¡¯ve got some weird fetish.¡± ¡°That¡¯s stupid,¡± she says as she laughs at me. ¡°No, I know,¡± I agree enthusiastically, nodding like one of those dashboard bobbleheads. ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous how quick people are to judge. Like, can¡¯t a person just make a bunch of poop jokes without it being some deep psychological revelation?¡± Lara¡¯s expression shifts from amusement to something more quizzical. ¡°I read your file, Adam,¡± she says, cutting through my verbal diarrhea with surgical precision. ¡°You¡¯ve never worked a job.¡± I sigh deeply, my shoulders slumping in defeat. ¡°Yup, you¡¯re right. I forgot.¡± I lie in admission, not bothering to explain that I¡¯m not the original Adam, that I¡¯ve somehow been transported into this gender-flipped world and dropped into the life of a man who apparently has never held employment. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m gonna go shit then¡­ And I won¡¯t like it.¡± Lara jokes at me with a smile. ***** [Claire¡¯s POV] Since the slots weren¡¯t giving me any returns, I switched to roulette. Ole reliable. I¡¯m on a hot streak. Since I got to the table, I¡¯m up one thousand. I have yet to break even from my losses though. I see the ball land on black 17. I win four hundred bucks. ¡°I can¡¯t stop winning!¡± I yell, drawing annoyed glances from the other players at the table. I don¡¯t care. The rush of winning is like a drug, better than sex, better than love, better than anything I¡¯ve ever known. My heart pounds against my ribs as I watch the dealer push more chips toward me. My hands shake slightly as I stack them, already calculating my next bet. ¡°Ohhh, you¡¯re off the slots,¡± a familiar voice sings from behind me. My shoulders tense instantly, the euphoria of winning evaporating like water on hot pavement. I don¡¯t need to turn around to know who it is. Lara¡¯s presence is like a physical weight pressing against my back, suffocating and inescapable. ¡®Hasn¡¯t she had enough of me today?¡¯ ¡°Thought you¡¯d be home by now, Claire,¡± Lara continues, sliding into the empty space beside me at the roulette table. Her tall frame looms over me even as she leans casually against the green felt. ¡°I figured I¡¯d scared you off when I called you evil. That was what? Four hours ago?¡± I refuse to look at her, keeping my eyes fixed on the spinning wheel as the dealer releases the ball. The little white sphere bounces and skips, a blur of motion that somehow feels more real than anything else in my life right now. ¡°Leave me alone, Lara,¡± I mutter, the words barely audible above the ambient noise of the casino. She doesn¡¯t move. Of course, she doesn¡¯t. Lara never does what you want her to do. It¡¯s like her entire existence is dedicated to being as contrary and unsettling as possible. ¡°Place your bets,¡± the dealer announces, her voice professionally detached. I reach for my chips, but Lara¡¯s hand shoots out, her long fingers wrapping around my wrist. ¡°Skip this round,¡± she suggests, her voice deceptively casual. ¡°I want to show you something.¡± I pull my hand back, irritation flaring hot in my chest. ¡°I¡¯m on a winning streak,¡± I protest, gesturing to my pile of chips. ¡°I can¡¯t stop now.¡± ¡°No more bets,¡± the dealer declares nervously looking at Lara, effectively making the decision for me. I sigh, leaning back in my chair as the wheel spins and the ball dances. Lara takes advantage of my momentary stillness, pulling out her phone with a flourish. Her long fingers tap and swipe across the screen. ¡°I visited your husband today,¡± she says, her voice carrying a sing-song quality that makes my skin crawl. ¡°Lovely man. Very polite. Has quite the shiner, though.¡± My stomach drops, a sickening lurch that has nothing to do with the thousands I¡¯ve gambled away today. I force myself to look at her, to meet those manic blue eyes that never seem to blink quite enough. ¡°What?¡± I manage, my voice small and uncertain. Lara¡¯s smile widens, stretching across her face like a wound opening. With theatrical slowness, she turns her phone toward me. ¡°Look,¡± she commands, her voice soft but brooking no refusal. I look. The photo punches the air from my lungs. It¡¯s Adam, my Adam, sitting on a couch in some hotel room. He¡¯s caught in profile, unaware of the camera, his attention focused on something outside the frame. The left side of his face is visible, and what I see makes bile rise in my throat. His eye is swollen completely shut, the skin around it a violent collage of purple, black, and sickly yellow-green. The bruising extends down his cheekbone, spreading like spilled ink across his face. I reach for the phone instinctively, my fingers trembling as they close around the sleek device. Lara lets me take it, her smile never wavering as I pull the screen closer, desperately hoping that what I¡¯m seeing is some trick of the light, some cruel Photoshop prank. But it¡¯s real. The bruising on Adam¡¯s face is unmistakable. My husband looks small and vulnerable in the photo, his usually confident posture diminished, his body language screaming defeat. ¡°When... how...¡± I stammer, unable to form a coherent thought as guilt crashes through me in violent waves. Lara¡¯s expression transforms in an instant. The playful, manic smile vanishes, replaced by something cold and hard. Her blue eyes narrow to icy slits, her jaw tightening until I can see the muscles working beneath her skin. ¡°Caterina did that to him,¡± she says, each word precisely enunciated, ¡°last night.¡± The ball drops in the roulette wheel with a clatter. Someone at the table cheers. I barely notice. ¡°After you sold him,¡± she hisses, her face now inches from mine, ¡°after you abandoned him to save your pathetic ass.¡± I open my mouth to defend myself, but no words come. What could I possibly say? That I had no choice? That I was desperate? That I thought Caterina would treat him well? ¡°And here you are,¡± Lara spits, her voice dripping with disgust as she gestures at the roulette table with a sharp, violent movement of her hand. ¡°Gambling away more money. Breaking promises. Being the same selfish, pathetic addict who sold her husband.¡± ¡°While you¡¯re down here breaking promises,¡± she snarls, her perfect teeth bared in a grimace of pure loathing, ¡°he¡¯s just trying to survive.¡± Lara¡¯s fingers curl around the edge of her phone, tugging it from my unresisting grip. The device slides away, taking the evidence of my failure as a wife, as a decent human being, with it. ¡°Honestly, Claire,¡± she says, her voice suddenly gentle, ¡°you should kill yourself.¡± The words land like gunshots, each syllable a precise strike against whatever fragments of self-worth I have left. There¡¯s no theatrical cruelty in how she delivers them, no manic glee or twisted pleasure. Just a flat, matter-of-fact suggestion delivered with the casual indifference of someone recommending a restaurant or commenting on the weather. That¡¯s what makes it so devastating. Not that she said it, but that she means it. She genuinely believes the world, that Adam would be better off if I simply ceased to exist. Without waiting for a response, without another glance or word, Lara turns and walks away. I watch her fiery hair disappear into the sea of bodies. The dealer¡¯s voice penetrates the fog surrounding me, distant and muffled as if coming from underwater. ¡°Ma¡¯am? Do you want to place another bet?¡± I blink slowly, my gaze drifting from the empty space where Lara stood to the roulette wheel. My stomach churns with acid and self-loathing. I feel something fundamental breaking inside me, some essential support beam cracking beneath the weight of what I¡¯ve done. I look down at my chips, about three thousand dollars worth, sitting in neat stacks before me. Money from Caterina¡¯s gift to Adam. The money I stole like the wretched thief I am. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± the dealer prompts again, her professionally neutral face betraying the slightest hint of impatience. Something shifts inside me, a tectonic plate of emotion grinding against the bedrock of my character. I gather all my chips, every last one, and push them toward the zero. ¡°All on zero,¡± I say, my voice hollow yet somehow steadier than it¡¯s been in months. The dealer¡¯s eyebrows rise slightly, the only indication of her surprise. ¡°All in on zero,¡± she confirms, loudly enough for the pit boss to hear. A ripple of interest passes through the other players at the table. Someone mutters ¡°Jesus Christ¡± under their breath. Another person whistles low. I ignore them all. This isn¡¯t about winning anymore. This is about punishment. It¡¯s about cleansing. About finally hitting rock bottom so hard that I¡¯ll have no choice but to look up. The dealer¡¯s hand hovers over the wheel, her eyes meeting mine one last time, silently asking if I¡¯m sure. I give a small, decisive nod. The wheel spins. The little white ball dances along its rim, a blur of motion that seems to contain my entire future within its chaotic trajectory. I watch it with a strange detachment as if observing someone else¡¯s life unraveling. For the first time since entering the casino, I feel nothing. No thrill, no anticipation, no desperate hope. Just a hollow peace, the calm acceptance of a condemned prisoner walking to the gallows. ¡®I am a monster,¡¯ I think as the ball bounces erratically. ¡®I sold my husband. I broke every vow I ever made.¡¯ The ball slows, hopping from number to number with decreasing momentum. My breathing slows with it, my heart rate steadying as I watch what I assume will be the final nail in the coffin of my gambling addiction. ¡®I need to change,¡¯ I think as the ball settles into its final bounce. ¡®I need to save Adam somehow.¡¯ The ball lands on zero. ¡®No.¡¯ Time seems to freeze. The wheel continues to rotate lazily beneath the now-stationary ball, carrying it around in a victory lap. The green pocket cradles the little white sphere perfectly, but something¡¯s wrong, the ball is wobbling, teetering on the edge of the pocket as if unsure of its decision. I hold my breath. Everyone at the table holds their breath. The dealer¡¯s knuckles whiten as she grips the edge of the table. The wheel slows further, the ball¡¯s wobbling becoming more pronounced with each passing second. It¡¯s going to fall out. It¡¯s okay. I want it to fall out. I need it to fall out. The wheel makes one final, agonizingly slow rotation. The ball tips to one side, lifting almost entirely out of the pocket. ¡®But what if it didn¡¯t fall out? What then?¡¯ I close my eyes. I can¡¯t watch. The sound will tell me everything I need to know, the distinctive click of the ball finding a new home, the collective sigh of the table, the dealer¡¯s mechanical announcement of my loss. But the sound doesn¡¯t come. Instead, there¡¯s a strange, suspended silence, followed by a collective gasp from the table. My eyes snap open just in time to see the ball settle back into the zero pocket with a finality that seems almost deliberate, as if it considered all other options and chose, against all odds, to stay put. ¡°Zero!¡± the dealer announces, her professional mask slipping for just a moment to reveal genuine surprise. ¡°We have a winner!¡± The table erupts in excited chatter. A woman to my left slaps my shoulder in congratulation. I stare at the wheel, unable to process what¡¯s happening. The dealer calculates my winnings, her fingers flying over the chips with practiced efficiency. ¡°One hundred and five thousand dollars,¡± she announces, pushing a mountain of chips toward me. ¡°Congratulations, ma¡¯am.¡± The pit boss appears at her shoulder, verifying the payout with a quick glance and a nod. People are staring now, other gamblers drawn by the commotion, craning their necks to see who just hit the jackpot. I should feel something, elation, relief, vindication. But as I look at the pile of chips before me, all I can see is Adam¡¯s bruised face, his swollen eye, the defeat in his posture. Even with that, the hold the table has on me just feels strengthened by this new win. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll stay a few more spins,¡± I say, almost completely detached from myself. ¡®What if I really can¡¯t stop winning?¡¯ Chapter 14: The Path to a Clairillion is Paved With Good Intentions [Claire''s POV] I wake up to my head throbbing with an intensity that feels like someone''s taking a jackhammer to my skull. The sheets are a tangled mess around my legs, damp with sweat and smelling of alcohol and something else I can''t quite place. Sunlight streams through the partially open curtains of the casino hotel room, each beam feeling like a laser directly into my retinas. I groan, trying to piece together what happened after that miraculous win at the roulette table. There are only fragments, ordering champagne, betting more, winning more, drinking more. The cycle repeating itself in an increasingly blurry loop until...nothing. Just darkness. As I shift to escape the brutal sunlight, I become aware of a weight across my waist. An arm. A distinctly man-like arm. My stomach lurches with something that has nothing to do with my hangover. Slowly, carefully, I push myself up and turn to look at the source of that arm. A man sleeps beside me, his face relaxed in slumber. He''s handsome, objectively, undeniably handsome, with strong features and thick dark hair that falls across his forehead in a way that seems almost deliberately tousled. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I stare at him, my brain struggling to place him in any context that makes sense. I know with absolute certainty that I''ve never seen this man before in my life. As if sensing my scrutiny, his eyes flutter open. They''re a warm brown, almost amber, in the morning light. He smiles at me, casual and comfortable, like waking up next to me is the most natural thing in the world. "Hi," he says simply, his voice deep and slightly raspy with sleep. The single syllable sends a wave of panic crashing through me. I scramble backward, nearly falling off the edge of the bed in my haste to put distance between us. "Who the fuck are you?" I demand, my voice coming out harsher than I intended, scraped raw by whatever I drank last night. His eyebrows lift slightly, more in surprise than offense. He sits up, the sheet falling to reveal a muscled chest. "I''m Keith," he says calmly. "Ahh, that''s right, you told me I''m supposed to be someone named Adam, right? That''s what you kept calling me last night while we ¡®made love.¡¯" The smile he gives me is warm, almost affectionate, and it makes my skin crawl. The name hits me like a physical blow. Adam. My husband. The one I sold to a mob boss to save my own skin. The one with a black eye in Lara''s photo. "You kept saying how much you missed him," Keith continues, oblivious to my internal meltdown. "How you wanted one more night with him." My stomach lurches violently as the implications slam into me like a freight train. The room spins, a kaleidoscope of expensive hotel furnishings and rumpled sheets. Fragmented memories flash through my mind, stumbling through the casino floor with my winnings, approaching a handsome man at the bar, the way his eyes had lit up when I''d waved a stack of hundred-dollar bills in his face. "You''re a...a..." I can''t even finish the sentence before the first wave hits me. I barely have time to turn my head before I''m vomiting spectacularly all over the Egyptian cotton sheets. The expensive champagne I''d been drinking comes up along with whatever food I''d consumed, creating a putrid, acidic puddle that spreads across the pristine white bedding. "Oh my God!" Keith exclaims, jumping back but not quite fast enough to avoid the splash zone. "Are you alright?" He recovers quickly and professionally, I realize with growing horror and moves toward me, hands outstretched to offer comfort or support. His naked body, which I now recognize as the polished product of someone who makes their living from physical appearance, approaches like a nightmare-made flesh. I scramble backward, slipping in my own vomit, my hand leaving a grotesque trail across the sheets. "Don''t touch me!" Keith pauses, confusion evident on his perfect face. "Hey, it''s okay. People get sick sometimes. It happens." He reaches for my shoulders, his movements gentle but determined. The thought of his hands on me, hands that I paid to touch me, to pretend I was with my husband, sends another violent wave of nausea through me. I shove him away with surprising force, my palm connecting with his bare chest. "Get the fuck out!" "Huh?" His brow furrows in genuine confusion. "You paid for two days already, though. The full weekend package, remember? Premium rate." The words "premium rate" echo in my head like a death knell. I paid for this man. I bought him like merchandise. Just like I sold Adam. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" I scream, my voice tearing from my throat with such violence that Keith actually flinches. He holds his hands up in surrender, backing toward where his clothes are draped over a chair. "Alright, alright. Jesus." I watch, trembling, as he pulls on his underwear and pants with efficient movements. He doesn''t bother buttoning his shirt, just drapes it over his shoulders. At the door, he pauses, looking back at me with an expression that hovers somewhere between concern and business calculation. "Your receipt''s on the nightstand," he says. "If you change your mind, the agency has my number. No refunds, though." As the door closes behind him, I sprint to the bathroom, my bare feet slipping on the smooth tiles. I barely make it to the toilet before another violent wave of nausea overtakes me. I heave until there''s nothing left but bile, my stomach muscles clenching painfully with each convulsion. The cold porcelain rim presses against my forehead as I cling to the toilet bowl like it''s the only solid thing in a world that''s suddenly spinning out of control. ¡®Who am I?¡¯ When the retching finally subsides, I remain kneeling on the bathroom floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and shame. The tears come without warning, hot and relentless, streaming down my face and dripping into the toilet water below. My reflection stares back at me from the rippling surface, eyes bloodshot, hair matted with sweat, and God knows what else. "I don''t want to be like this anymore," I whisper, my voice echoing hollowly against the bathroom tiles. The words feel torn from somewhere deep inside me, from a place I''ve been desperately trying to ignore. "I don''t want to be like this anymore!" My voice rises to a scream that breaks into sobs. I pound my fist against the tile floor, welcoming the pain that shoots up my arm. It''s nothing compared to what Adam must be feeling. Adam with his blackened eye. Adam who trusted me to protect him, to love him. "I don''t want to live," I gasp between heaving sobs. "I can''t live like this." Lara''s casual suggestion, "You should kill yourself," echoes in my mind. Not as a taunt now but as a solution. An escape from the monster I''ve become. I think about what Adam''s going through because of me. Sold to a violent woman who''s already hurt him. Abandoned by the person who was supposed to love him most in the world. Now I¡¯ve even cheated on him. I¡¯ve betrayed in every possible way. "I''m sorry, Adam," I sob into the toilet, my tears mixing with the water below. "I''m so sorry." The words are inadequate, pathetically small against the magnitude of what I''ve done. But I repeat them anyway, a broken litany of remorse that fills the bathroom with its desperate rhythm. "I''m sorry, Adam. I''m so, so sorry." My fingers grip the edge of the toilet bowl so tightly they turn white as if I''m afraid I might float away on a tide of my own self-loathing if I let go. My body shudders with each sob, wracked by a grief that feels too big to contain, too heavy to carry. I don''t know how long I stayed there, crying into the toilet in a strange hotel room, naked and filthy and utterly alone. Time loses meaning in the face of such complete despair. But eventually, the tears slow, my breathing steadies, and a strange, hollow calm settles over me. I pull myself up from the bathroom floor, my limbs heavy and uncooperative, like I''m moving through molasses. The tile is cold against my bare feet as I shuffle to the sink, avoiding my reflection in the mirror above it. I''m not ready to face myself yet. Water splatters against the porcelain as I turn the faucet to full blast. I cup my hands beneath the stream, bringing the cool liquid to my face again and again, scrubbing at my skin as if I could wash away more than just the physical evidence of last night''s debauchery. With trembling hands, I reach for one of the plush hotel towels, pressing it against my face. Wrapped in the oversized towel, I force myself to return to the bedroom. The rumpled sheets with their disgusting stains seem to mock me, physical evidence of my complete moral collapse. I give the bed a wide berth, moving instead toward the window. With a sharp tug, I yank the curtains fully open, flooding the room with merciless daylight. The Boston skyline sprawls before me, all gleaming glass and steel, indifferent to my personal apocalypse. "Okay," I whisper to myself, the word hanging in the air like a promise. "Okay." I turn back to face the room, forcing myself to take stock of the situation with as much clinical detachment as I can muster. My clothes are scattered across the floor, a trail leading from the door to the bed like breadcrumbs marking my descent into new depths of self-destruction. My wallet lies overturned on the dresser, its contents spilled across the polished wood surface. And there, amid the chaos, I spot something that makes my heart skip a beat. A bag full of cash. Stacks and stacks of it, bound with paper bands bearing the casino''s logo. Some of the bills have broken free from their restraints, floating to the floor like rectangular confetti celebrating my moral bankruptcy. I approach slowly as if the money might disappear if I move too quickly. My fingers tremble as I reach for the first stack, the crisp edges of the hundred-dollar bills sharp against my skin. I count mechanically, my lips moving silently as the numbers climb higher and higher. Ten thousand. Twenty thousand. Fifty thousand¡­ After counting all the cash twice more, I stare at the stacks of bills spread across the dresser. One hundred and fifty-two thousand dollars, to be exact. The amount is so absurd I almost laugh. A broken, hysterical sound that dies in my throat. "Holy fuck," I whisper, running my fingers over the crisp bills. "I really was on a streak last night." The money sits there, mocking me with its presence. One hundred and fifty-two thousand dollars. Not even half of what I owe to get Adam back, but more than enough to... keep gambling. The thought slithers into my mind like a poisonous snake, familiar and deadly. Just one more game. Double it. Triple it. Win enough to buy Adam back from Caterina. My fingers twitch toward the stacks, already calculating odds and bets, imagining the smooth feel of chips in my palm, the rush of the wheel spinning, the ball dancing across the numbers. "No," I say aloud, jerking my hand back as if burned. "No more." I back away from the money, my legs trembling beneath me. The distance between me and those stacks of cash feels important somehow like I''m physically removing myself from temptation. My phone lies on the nightstand, partially hidden beneath a room service menu. I lunge for it, clutching it like a lifeline. My thumb hovers over the screen, hesitating only briefly before pulling up my contacts. I scroll past Adam''s name, my heart clenching painfully at the sight of it. Not him. Not yet. I can''t face him, not like this, not until I''ve fixed something, anything. Instead, I find Madison''s contact. Maddy. Caterina''s right hand. The woman who might be my only hope of reaching Adam, of making some tiny amends for the immeasurable wrong I''ve done him. I type quickly before I can change my mind: "Maddy, I need to see you. I''m in room 1842. It''s important. About Adam." My thumb hovers over the send button, doubt gnawing at my resolve. What if she ignores me? What if she tells Caterina? What if this makes everything worse? But what could possibly be worse than this? I hit send, watching the message bubble whoosh away into the digital ether. Done. No taking it back now. I drop the phone onto the bed and stagger to the bathroom, stripping off the towel as I go. The shower beckons, promising to wash away at least the physical evidence of my shame, if not the emotional stain that feels permanently embedded in my soul. [Meanwhile in another plane of existence] [This is unironically Canon.] Chapter 15: Claire Witch Project [Claire¡¯s POV] I¡¯m all dressed in yesterday¡¯s clothes, stiff with dried sweat and reeking faintly of alcohol despite my best efforts to wash away the evidence in the shower. The hotel room still smells like a distillery mixed with vomit, though I¡¯ve opened all the windows and sprayed every complimentary air freshener I could find. I¡¯ve also bundled the soiled sheets into a disgusting pile in the corner, too embarrassed to call housekeeping. I never got a text back from Maddy, but my gut is telling me to wait. The cash sits on the dresser, stacked neatly now, a monument to my shame and possibly my salvation. I¡¯ve paced the room so many times I¡¯m surprised I haven¡¯t worn a track in the plush carpet. Every few minutes, I check my phone, hoping for a response, any response. The screen remains stubbornly blank, mocking me with its emptiness. I don¡¯t know if I expected anything different. Why would Maddy respond to me? I¡¯m nothing to her except the pathetic woman who sold her husband to her boss. A sharp knock at the door makes me jump, my heart instantly rocketing into my throat. I freeze, suddenly unsure if I want whoever it is to come in. But this is what I asked for, isn¡¯t it? A chance to start making things right. ¡°Alright, Claire,¡± I whisper to myself, smoothing my rumpled blouse with trembling hands. ¡°Let¡¯s try to start fixing this.¡± I take a deep breath, trying to quiet the frantic drumming of my pulse in my ears. My hand shakes as I reach for the doorknob, the cool metal feeling strange against my clammy palm. With one final, steadying breath, I pull the door open. Caterina De Luca stands in the hallway, resplendent in a white suit that looks like it costs more than most people¡¯s monthly salary. Her golden hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Those crimson eyes, unnervingly bright and focused, lock onto mine with predatory intensity. Behind her, slightly to the left, stands Maddy holding a briefcase, her expression carefully neutral, professional to a fault. She gives me the tiniest nod of acknowledgment. My mouth goes dry, words evaporating on my tongue as I stare at the woman who now owns my husband. The woman who gave him a black eye. The woman who could probably have me killed with a snap of her fingers. Caterina doesn¡¯t wait for an invitation. She strides past me into the room, her movement so fluid and powerful it¡¯s like watching a lioness enter her territory. Maddy follows silently, closing the door behind them with a soft click that somehow sounds like a prison cell locking. I stand frozen by the door, watching as Caterina moves through the space with casual ownership, her crimson eyes taking in every detail, the rumpled bed, the discarded room service trays, the pile of soiled sheets in the corner, and finally, the stacks of cash on the dresser. She runs one elegant finger along the edge of the dresser, inspecting it for dust like some disapproving mother-in-law in a sitcom, except there¡¯s nothing funny about the predatory grace with which she occupies the room. She wrinkles her perfect nose, her expression shifting from neutral assessment to undisguised disgust. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°This room smells like puke, Claire,¡± she says, her voice silky smooth despite the harshness of her words. She turns to face me fully, those unnerving crimson eyes boring into mine. ¡°Tell me you didn¡¯t vomit all over the sheets.¡± Heat floods my face, embarrassment burning through me like wildfire. I wrap my arms around myself as if the gesture could somehow protect me from her judgment, from the reality of what I¡¯ve become. ¡°Sorry,¡± I mumble, the word pathetically inadequate even to my own ears. ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s fine,¡± she says, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°You were our biggest winner last night, after all.¡± Her gaze drifts to the money on the dresser, something calculating flickering behind those crimson eyes. When she looks back at me, her smile has transformed into something darker, more menacing. ¡°So,¡± she says, the single syllable somehow loaded with implication, ¡°how was Keith last night?¡± The question hits me like a bucket of ice water. My stomach drops to my feet, and for a terrifying moment, I think I might vomit again right here on the plush carpet. The walls of the hotel room seem to close in around me, the air suddenly thick and suffocating. ¡°How did you¡­¡± I begin, but Caterina cuts me off. ¡°Claire, I own this casino. Did you really think I wouldn¡¯t know about your little... indulgence? Keith works exclusively for our high rollers. He reports directly to management. How could you not know that?¡± She moves toward the window, her white suit gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. ¡°He said you kept calling him Adam,¡± she continues, her back to me now as she gazes out at the Boston skyline. ¡°That you were quite... passionate about the roleplay.¡± She turns slightly, just enough for me to see her profile, the cruel curve of her smile. ¡°Apparently, you cried after he came inside you? How romantic.¡± My legs wobble beneath me, and I reach blindly for the wall, needing something solid to keep me upright as the room tilts and spins around me. ¡°Please,¡± I whisper, the word barely audible even in the quiet room. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell Adam.¡± The plea hangs in the air between us, pathetic and desperate. I hate myself for how weak I sound, for the tremor in my voice, for the tears that threaten to spill over. But the thought of Adam knowing about this, on top of everything else I¡¯ve done to him, is unbearable. Caterina turns fully to face me no ¡°Hmm,¡± she murmurs, tapping one perfectly manicured finger against her chin. ¡°I wonder if I should.¡± The casual cruelty in her voice, the deliberate way she dangles this threat over my head, ignites something deep within me. A desperate, frantic energy surges through my limbs, propelling me across the room toward the dresser, where the money sits in neat stacks. I grab the cash with shaking hands, bills slipping between my fingers and fluttering to the floor in my haste. I don¡¯t bother picking them up. Instead, I stumble to the table near Caterina, dropping the stacks of money onto the polished surface with a series of heavy thuds. ¡°Take this,¡± I say, my voice stronger now, fueled by desperation and the last fragments of hope I can muster. ¡°Give Adam back.¡± For a moment, the room is utterly silent. Caterina stares at the money, her expression unreadable, those crimson eyes revealing nothing of her thoughts. Then she laughs. The sound is rich and musical, genuinely amused as if I¡¯ve just told the funniest joke she¡¯s heard all week. Her shoulders shake slightly with the force of her mirth, golden hair catching the sunlight as she throws her head back. ¡°That¡¯s surely not enough,¡± she says when her laughter finally subsides, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. She turns to Maddy, who stands silent and watchful by the door. ¡°Maddy, how much did Claire here win last night?¡± Maddy clears her throat, her professional demeanor never slipping despite the tension crackling through the room. ¡°Around a hundred and sixty thousand dollars,¡± she reports, her Boston accent more pronounced than usual. ¡°Wait, what?¡± I blink in confusion, trying to process her words through the fog of shame and hangover, still clouding my mind. ¡°Did Keith cost eight thousand dollars?¡± Caterina laughs again. ¡°No, no. Keith¡¯s premium package is only two thousand for the weekend.¡± She waves her hand dismissively. ¡°You tipped the dealer really well. It was actually kinda nice.¡± She shrugs elegantly. ¡°The staff appreciates players like you. Even if you also work here.¡± I stand there, swaying slightly, trying to reconcile this mundane explanation with the moral catastrophe unfolding in my life. The fact that I tipped a dealer six thousand dollars feels surreal, disconnected from the desperate woman I¡¯ve become. ¡°Claire, sit down,¡± Caterina says, her tone suddenly businesslike as she gestures to the chair across from her. It¡¯s not a request. My legs fold beneath me automatically, my body responding to her command before my brain can fully process it. The chair creaks under my weight as I sink into it, hands clasped tightly in my lap to hide their trembling. Caterina motions to Maddy, who steps forward with fluid efficiency. She places the sleek black briefcase she¡¯s been holding onto the table between us without opening it, then retreats to her position by the door, resuming her silent vigilance. ¡°Thank you, Maddy,¡± Caterina says, her tone warm with genuine appreciation. My eyes remain fixed on the briefcase, heart hammering against my ribs with such force I¡¯m surprised the others can¡¯t hear it. What¡¯s in there? A gun? Some instrument of torture? A contract for my soul? With deliberate slowness, Caterina reaches for the briefcase. Her long fingers dance across the combination lock, spinning the dials with practiced precision. Each click seems unnaturally loud in the tense silence of the hotel room. The latches pop open with twin metallic snaps that make me flinch. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes flick up to catch my reaction, a small smile playing at the corners of her perfect mouth. She opens the briefcase with a theatrical flourish, like a magician revealing the finale of an elaborate trick. Caterina lifts a newspaper with delicate fingers out of the briefcase, handling it as if it were made of ancient parchment rather than cheap newsprint. The paper makes a soft, crinkling sound as she unfolds it with deliberate slowness, each movement calculated to maximize my anxiety. She places it on the table between us, turning it to face me and smoothing out a crease with one long finger. Her crimson nails stand out against the monochrome page like drops of blood on snow. ¡°Read,¡± she commands softly. My eyes drop to the headline, bold black letters that seem to pulse with their own malevolent energy: ¡°THREE GANG MEMBERS SLAUGHTERED IN DORCHESTER AS GANG VIOLENCE RISES¡± Beneath the headline is a grainy photograph of a crime scene. Yellow police tape creates a perimeter around what appears to be the entrance to an alley. The image is deliberately obscured to hide the worst of the carnage, but dark stains are visible on the pavement, spreading in patterns that are unmistakably blood. I scan the first paragraph, my heart pounding so loudly it seems to drown out every other sound in the room: ¡°Three women were found brutally murdered in Dorchester early Friday morning in what police are calling ¡®an unprecedented level of violence even for gang-related killings.¡¯ The victims, all members of the Southie Queens gang, were reportedly tortured before being killed. Sources close to the investigation describe the scene as ¡®ritualistic¡¯ and possibly ¡®sending a message.¡¯¡± My breath catches in my throat as recognition dawns, cold and terrible. The article includes small mugshot photos of the victims, three women with hard eyes and harder expressions. I know those faces. These are the women that raped Adam. My eyes go wide, shooting up to meet Caterina¡¯s crimson gaze. She watches me with the patient intensity of a predator observing its prey, noting every flicker of emotion that crosses my face. ¡°Why are you showing me this?¡± I whisper, my voice barely audible over the thundering of my heart. Caterina places her palms flat on the table, leaning forward with the controlled menace of a cobra preparing to strike. Her crimson eyes bore into mine, unblinking and merciless. ¡°I¡¯ll give you one chance,¡± she says, her voice deceptively kind. ¡°One chance to admit to it.¡± The room seems to shrink around us, the air growing thick and difficult to breathe. I clutch at the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white with the effort of keeping myself upright in the chair. ¡®There¡¯s no way she could know. Right?¡¯ ¡°I had nothing to do with the killings,¡± I stammer, genuine confusion threading through my terror. Caterina scoffs. ¡°Of course, I know that,¡± she says, waving her hand as if swatting away an annoying insect. ¡°That was Lara¡¯s work. Truly a loyal servant, that one.¡± Her crimson eyes narrow suddenly, hardening into something cold and impenetrable. ¡°Unlike...¡± Without warning, Caterina slams both hands down on the table with such force that the stacks of money jump and scatter. The sound is like a gunshot in the confined space of the hotel room, making me jerk backward in my chair. ¡°ADMIT IT!¡± she screams, her composure shattering like glass, revealing something raw and terrifying beneath the polished exterior. I shrink back, instinctively raising my arms to protect my face. ¡°Okay, okay!¡± I sob, words tumbling out in a desperate rush. ¡°It was me. After I asked Adam to be your lover for four months, he said no and stormed out of the house. I needed money bad, I thought you were going to kill me, so I set up a backup plan.¡± The confession hangs in the air between us, ugly and damning. Caterina straightens slowly, adjusting her pristine white suit jacket with deliberate movements. ¡°You truly are a wretched, evil woman, aren¡¯t you?¡± she says, each word dripping with contempt. I¡¯m sobbing now, great heaving gasps that shake my entire body. The tears stream down my face unchecked, hot, and shameful against my skin. ¡°I didn¡¯t know they were going to land him in the hospital,¡± I choke out, the words mangled by my crying. ¡°I swear I didn¡¯t.¡± Caterina¡¯s face transforms into something inhuman, a mask of pure rage that makes my blood freeze in my veins. Her crimson eyes burn with such intensity I swear I can feel the heat emanating from them. ¡°How much did they pay you?¡± I can¡¯t look at her. I stare down at my trembling hands, watching as my tears splash onto my palms, creating tiny, glistening puddles. The shame is so thick I can taste it, metallic and bitter on my tongue. ¡°Ten thousand each.¡± I admit. The silence that follows is deafening, stretching between us like an abyss. When I finally gather the courage to look up, Caterina is perfectly still, her expression frozen in a terrible mask of disbelief. ¡°Thirty thousand dollars,¡± she says finally, each syllable enunciated with precise, controlled rage. ¡°You sold your husband to be gang-raped for thirty thousand dollars.¡± Put like that, laid bare in those stark, unforgiving terms, the magnitude of what I¡¯ve done crashes over me anew. ¡°And what the fuck did you even do with the money?¡± Caterina demands, her voice rising with each word, the calm facade cracking to reveal the storm beneath. I can¡¯t answer. The truth is too pathetic, too damning. The money I had hoped to use as a down payment to keep Adam safe had disappeared so quickly, swallowed by the casino like everything else in my life. Chips stacked and lost, hands played and folded, wheels spun and stopped. All of it gone within days, hours maybe. I don¡¯t even remember. My silence seems to enrage Caterina more than any answer could have. She moves with such sudden violence that I don¡¯t even see it coming. Her fist connects with my nose with a sickening crunch, pain exploding across my face in a starburst of agony. Blood immediately gushes from my nostrils, hot and metallic, spattering onto my shirt and the table between us. ¡°YOU WERE GAMBLING!¡± she screams, her voice raw with fury, spittle flying from her lips as she towers over me. ¡°AFTER YOU FOUND OUT ADAM WAS IN THE FUCKING HOSPITAL! SAFE AND SOUND WITHOUT ANY OF HIS FUCKING MEMORIES. YOU STUPID FUCK! AFTER I GAVE YOU AN INCH OF COMPASSION!¡± Her fist connects again, this time catching me on the cheekbone. The impact is like a firecracker going off inside my skull, white-hot pain radiating outward in pulsing waves. I curl forward in my chair, blood pouring from my nose, dripping onto the plush hotel carpet in a steady crimson stream. My vision blurs, not just from the tears but from the impact of Caterina¡¯s fist. ¡°Stop, stop! I know, I know!¡± I sob, raising my hands in futile defense. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, making me gag. ¡°I¡¯m a monster! I know what I did!¡± Caterina looms over me, her white suit immaculate despite the violence she¡¯s just inflicted. Not a single drop of my blood has marred her pristine appearance. Finally, I snap. ¡°What, you think you¡¯re better than me?¡± I spit through the blood and tears, a sudden surge of defiance rising through my pain. ¡°You traffic men. You¡¯re a fucking monster too.¡± The words hang in the air between us, dangerous and electric. For a moment, I think she¡¯s going to hit me again, maybe even kill me right here in this hotel room. Part of me almost hopes she will, ending this nightmare once and for all. Instead, something unexpected happens. Caterina laughs again. ¡°I¡¯m a mob boss, you fuck wit. I¡¯m supposed to be like this. That¡¯s the job description.¡± She circles the table slowly, her movements fluid and predatory. Each click of her heels against the floor echoes like a countdown to something inevitable. ¡°But you,¡± she continues, stopping directly behind my chair, her voice dropping to a silky whisper near my ear, ¡°you had one job. One simple, human job, to love and protect your husband.¡± Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder, her touch deceptively gentle. I can feel the strength in her fingers, the barely restrained violence trembling beneath her skin. ¡°And you failed spectacularly,¡± she breathes, her lips so close to my ear I can feel the warmth of her words against my skin. ¡°You didn¡¯t just fail, you actively participated in his destruction.¡± She sighs, her anger seeming to drain away, replaced by something almost like pity. With deliberate steps, she walks around to face me again, leaning her hip against the table as she looks down at my bloodied face. ¡°Did you know your insurance would pay for rehab?¡± she asks, her voice suddenly conversational as if we¡¯re discussing something as mundane as the weather. I blink at her through swollen eyes, blood still trickling from my nose. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Your insurance,¡± she repeats, enunciating each syllable as if speaking to a particularly slow child. ¡°The health insurance you have through the casino. It has excellent mental health coverage, including comprehensive addiction treatment programs.¡± She pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and tosses it at me. The pristine white square lands in my lap, immediately soaking up some of the blood from my hands. ¡°If you had put even the smallest effort into addressing your gambling addiction, you could have gotten help. Before you ended up here.¡± She gestures broadly at the squalid hotel room, at my broken face, at the money scattered across the table. ¡°Before you sold your husband to be raped. Before you sold him to me.¡± I press the handkerchief to my nose, wincing at the pressure against my broken cartilage. The pain feels distant somehow, less important than the devastating truth of her words. ¡°Okay,¡± I mumble through the cloth, not knowing what else to say. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes study me with clinical detachment as if assessing a particularly disappointing specimen. ¡°Claire, I¡¯m never going to give Adam back to you.¡± The finality in her tone makes my already aching heart constrict painfully in my chest. I lower the bloodied handkerchief, staring up at her with pleading eyes. ¡°Please,¡± I whisper. ¡°I¡¯ll pay whatever you want. Double what I owe. Triple it.¡± She shakes her head slowly, a sad smile playing at the corners of her perfect mouth. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you pay me what you owe me,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you pay me a billion dollars.¡± She leans forward, her hands braced on the table. ¡°Adam belongs to me now,¡± she says, each word precise and final. ¡°He is mine to protect. Mine to cherish. Mine to love in all the ways you failed to.¡± I scream from my chair. ¡°But you hit him! You hurt him just like I did!¡± The words explode from me with such force that droplets of blood spray from my lips, spattering across the money on the table. ¡°ADAM IS MINE TO PUNISH AS I SEE FIT!¡± Caterina screams, her voice shattering the air between us like glass breaking. ¡°HE IS MINE!¡± She slams her fist down on the table again, sending stacks of bills flying into the air like confetti. Some of them flutter down to land in the small puddles of my blood, the edges turning pink as they absorb my shame. ¡°The only reason you¡¯re still standing right now,¡± she continues, her voice dropping to a deadly hiss, ¡°is God forbid he ever gets his memories back.¡± She straightens, taking a deep breath that seems to physically pull her rage back inside, containing it beneath her perfect exterior once more. ¡°If Adam ever remembers whatver it was you two had,¡± she says, her voice now eerily calm, ¡°I want to be able to tell him that I let you live. That I showed you mercy.¡± She turns to Maddy, who has remained a silent sentinel throughout this entire confrontation. ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± she announces, her tone clipped and final. Maddy nods once, stepping forward to collect the briefcase from the table, carefully avoiding the spatters of my blood. She closes it with efficient movements, the metal latches clicking back into place with twin snaps. Caterina moves toward the door, each step measured and deliberate. She pauses at the threshold, her hand resting lightly on the doorknob. Caterina turns back to look at me one final time, her crimson eyes no longer burning with rage. ¡°For the love of God, Claire, find help. This is just fucking embarrassing.¡± Chapter 16: I’m Enya Debt [Adam¡¯s POV] I¡¯m laying on the bed in the presidential suite, eyes closed, listening to Enya. The ethereal vocals and soothing synths of ¡°Orinoco Flow¡± wash over me like gentle waves, carrying my thoughts to distant shores far from this bizarre reality I¡¯ve found myself in. ¡°Sail away, sail away, sail away.¡± The melody fills the spacious bedroom, bouncing off the high ceilings and wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. I just found out about Enya today while browsing Spotify. I¡¯ve heard of Enya before, but I didn¡¯t know they wrote such bangers. ¡®I wonder if Enya existed in my original world too. Maybe it was a guy there, though.¡¯ It¡¯s strange how something as simple as music can be a lifeline when everything else has been turned upside down. The songs feel familiar, like old friends visiting from a world I barely remember, but maybe they¡¯re a little different too. [A/N: Enya is the same here.] I hear the elevator doors opening, then closing. Footsteps approach, confident, measured steps that I¡¯ve already learned to recognize. My heart does a little jump in my chest, anticipation and anxiety mingling in equal measure. The bedroom door opens with a soft click. I keep my eyes closed, allowing myself to exist in this moment of suspended reality, where I¡¯m just a guy listening to music, not a man owned by a mob boss in a gender-flipped universe. ¡°Sail away, sail away, sail away...¡± The mattress dips slightly as Caterina sits on the edge of the bed. I finally open my eyes. Caterina is watching me with those unsettling crimson eyes, her gaze intense yet somehow softer than usual. Her golden hair is pulled up in a tight bun, not a single strand out of place. She¡¯s still in her work clothes¡ªan immaculately tailored white suit that makes her look like some avenging angel of the corporate world. ¡°Are you listening to Enya?¡± she asks, her voice carrying a note of surprise. I nod, reaching for my phone to pause the music. ¡°I found them while you were gone,¡± I explain, watching as she reaches up and begins putting her hair down. ¡°I was just browsing around Spotify.¡± Her hands move to her hair, fingers deftly removing pins one by one. The golden strands release from their tight configuration, cascading down like a waterfall of spun gold, catching the late afternoon light streaming through the windows. The silken mass tumbles over her shoulders in waves, framing her face with a softness that transforms her usual sharp features. When she finally looks at me again, I¡¯m startled by what I see in her crimson eyes. Gone is the predatory gleam, the calculating coldness, the barely contained violence that usually simmers beneath the surface. Instead, her eyes are filled with something I never expected to see. Pity, raw, and overwhelming, tinged with a sadness so profound it makes my chest tighten. Her lower lip trembles almost imperceptibly, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think she might actually cry. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it. She doesn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she reaches for me with both arms, pulling me into an embrace so tight it nearly knocks the wind from my lungs. Her arms wrap around me with surprising strength, one hand cradling the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, rapid and strong. I freeze momentarily, unsure how to respond to this unexpected display of emotion. Slowly, hesitantly, I bring my arms up to return the hug, my hands settling awkwardly on her back. The expensive fabric of her suit jacket is smooth beneath my fingertips. She says nothing for a long moment, just holds me with a desperation that feels almost frightening in its intensity. Her body is warm against mine, solid and real in a world that increasingly feels like some fever dream I can¡¯t wake up from. When she finally pulls back, her crimson eyes search my face with such tender concern that I barely recognize her as the same woman who gave me this black eye. Caterina¡¯s hands move to cup my face, her touch surprisingly gentle as her thumbs stroke my cheeks. She¡¯s careful to avoid the bruised area around my eye. ¡°Adam,¡± she says, her voice thick with emotion, ¡°no matter what happens, I would never sell you. I would never abandon you. I would never cheat on you.¡± The intensity of her gaze makes something shift inside me, a tectonic movement of emotion that leaves me feeling unsteady. Her words shouldn¡¯t matter to me as much as they do. This woman owns me. She hurt me. She¡¯s dangerous and unpredictable. Yet the conviction in her voice, the fierce protectiveness in her eyes, makes me believe her completely. And I¡¯m startled by how much I need to hear those words, how desperately I want to belong to someone who won¡¯t discard me when things get difficult. I say nothing. No matter how badly I want to give in. This life is something I have to either escape, or survive. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us. ¡°You¡¯re mine now,¡± she murmurs, her voice a silken promise. ¡°And I protect what¡¯s mine.¡± ¡®Fuck¡­ Stop falling for her.¡¯ ¡°Okay,¡± I say simply, closing my eyes and letting myself lean into her strength. She closes the distance between us, her lips meeting mine with an urgency that takes my breath away. The kiss isn¡¯t about dominance or possession. There¡¯s something almost desperate in the way her mouth moves against mine as if she¡¯s trying to convey everything she can¡¯t put into words. I find myself responding instinctively, my lips parting as the kiss deepens. Our tongues dancing like a couple at a wedding. When we finally break apart, both slightly breathless, her crimson eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth, softening her usually severe features. Suddenly, her brow furrows slightly. ¡°Wait, you¡¯ve never heard of Enya? Aren¡¯t you 25?¡± The question catches me off guard, yanking me from the haze of our kiss back to the bizarreness of my situation. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know,¡± I say with a shrug, trying to sound casual. ¡°Just never came across her music before, I guess.¡± Caterina¡¯s eyes widen as something seems to occur to her. She starts counting on her fingers, her lips moving silently as she does some mental math. ¡°Oh my God,¡± she exclaims, genuine horror crossing her face. ¡°Were you born after 9/11?¡± I can¡¯t help but laugh at her expression. ¡°No, I was born in ¡¯98,¡± I assure her. Her shoulders visibly relax. ¡°Thank God,¡± she mutters, shaking her head slightly. ¡°That would¡¯ve been so awkward.¡± The moment feels strangely normal, like a conversation any two people might have about their age gap. Not a mob boss and her captive/lover discussing generational differences. ¡°How old are you?¡± I ask, suddenly curious about the woman whose life is now so completely entangled with mine. ¡°38,¡± she replies without hesitation, watching my face closely for my reaction. I nod, processing this information. Thirteen years older than me. Not a huge gap, but significant enough to explain her established position in the mob hierarchy, her confidence, her air of complete authority. ¡®It¡¯s so fucking hot.¡¯ ¡°Does that bother you?¡± she asks, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice that I wouldn¡¯t have thought possible just days ago. ¡°No,¡± I answer truthfully. ¡°That doesn¡¯t bother me at all.¡± Silence settles between us, strangely comfortable despite everything. The late afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, painting golden rectangles across the plush carpet. I study Caterina¡¯s face in this gentle light. Something shifts inside me, a decision forming before I even consciously acknowledge it. ¡®Fuck it.¡¯ The weight of carrying this secret alone suddenly feels too heavy, too isolating. Here, in this quiet moment with the woman who both terrifies and fascinates me, I feel an overwhelming urge to share the truth, my truth, no matter how insane it might sound. ¡®Maybe she¡¯ll believe me.¡¯ ¡°Caterina,¡± I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, ¡°I need to tell you something.¡± She tilts her head slightly, her golden hair cascading over one shoulder. ¡°What is it?¡± she asks, her voice gentle but curious. I take a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. ¡°This is going to sound completely insane,¡± I warn her, already bracing for her reaction. ¡°I¡¯m happy you want to share something insane with me,¡± she says with a small smile. The words tumble out before I can second-guess myself. ¡°I¡¯m not from this world.¡± Her expression doesn¡¯t change immediately, which somehow makes it harder to continue. But now that I¡¯ve started, I can¡¯t seem to stop. ¡°I¡¯m from a world where men act more like you and women act like the men here,¡± I explain, the words rushing out like water from a broken dam. ¡°Where I come from, men are the ones in power. They run businesses, lead organized crime, start wars. Women also do those things, but like¡­ Not as much, I guess. Women are usually valued for their beauty rather than their strength.¡± ¡®Wait, this is really reductive. Fuck it, it gets my point across.¡¯ I gesture vaguely at the space between us. ¡°This whole dynamic, it¡¯s completely backward from everything I¡¯ve ever known. In my world, I wouldn¡¯t be sitting here wearing clothes picked out by a woman who owns me. I¡¯d be single ogling women online, thinking about how good I am at fumbling bad bitches like you.¡± I watch Caterina¡¯s face carefully as I speak, searching for any sign that she believes me, that she doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m completely insane. Her expression remains unnervingly neutral, those crimson eyes giving nothing away as she processes my confession. ¡°And then I woke up here,¡± I continue, the words spilling out faster now. ¡°In this body that looks like me but isn¡¯t me. With all my own memories. Married to a woman I hadn¡¯t seen since high school, who sold me to you. I¡¯m not the Adam of this world. I¡¯m... someone else who got dropped into his life.¡± I pause, feeling pretty good about what I said. Confident even. ¡®I think I sold her on it.¡¯ Finally, she sighs. Her shoulders slump slightly, and something shifts in her expression, a softening around the eyes, a gentle downturn of her mouth. ¡°You think I¡¯m a ¡®bad bitch''?¡± she asks, focusing on that one small detail from my rambling confession. She smiles with a weary look, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. I blink, thrown by her response. ¡°I mean... yeah? Where I¡¯m from, that¡¯s kind of a compliment. It means you¡¯re powerful and don¡¯t take shit from anyone.¡± Her smile fades, replaced by a frown. She reaches out, her hand gentle as she rubs my head, fingers threading through my hair in a gesture that feels strangely maternal despite our earlier kiss. ¡°I¡¯ve talked with Doctor Ramirez,¡± she says softly, her voice taking on a careful, measured quality. ¡°She said the amount of trauma you went through could lead to dissociative episodes. Fantasy constructions. Your mind creating an alternate reality where you have control, where things make sense.¡± My heart sinks, a cold weight settling in my stomach. She doesn¡¯t believe me. Of course, she doesn¡¯t. Why would she? ¡°I know it sounds crazy,¡± I insist, leaning forward. ¡°But how else do you explain why I don¡¯t know basic things about this world? Enya was a guy in my universe, I think.¡± Caterina¡¯s expression turns pained, her crimson eyes swimming with concern that feels suffocating. She takes both my hands in hers, her touch gentle but firm. ¡°Adam, listen to me,¡± she says, her voice soft but insistent. ¡°Your mind is trying to protect you from the trauma you experienced. Creating this elaborate story where everything is reversed, it gives you a reason, an explanation for why those women hurt you.¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s not¡­¡± ¡°In your ¡®other world,¡¯¡± she continues, cutting me off gently, ¡°men are powerful and in control, right? Men wouldn¡¯t be victims in the way you were. It¡¯s a perfect psychological defense mechanism.¡± [A/N: Men can be sexually assaulted in any world.] The fight drains out of me suddenly, like air from a punctured balloon. What¡¯s the point? She¡¯s never going to believe me. No one would. In her position, I wouldn¡¯t believe me either. A parallel universe where gender roles are reversed? ¡®Fuck.¡¯ ¡°Yeah,¡± I say finally, my voice hollow. ¡°You¡¯re right. That makes sense.¡± Relief washes over her face, softening her features. She pulls me into another embrace, this one gentler than before, her arms encircling me like protective walls. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she murmurs into my hair. ¡°You¡¯ve been through so much. Your mind is just trying to make sense of it all.¡± I lean into her warmth, letting my head rest against her shoulder. ¡°I know you¡¯re lying right now,¡± she whispers, her breath warm against my ear, ¡°but that¡¯s okay.¡± I stiffen slightly in her arms, surprised by her perceptiveness. She tightens her hold, one hand moving to stroke my back in soothing circles. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you feel like you¡¯re an alien in a new world,¡± she continues, her voice gentle and free of judgment. ¡°But I¡¯m here for you. Whatever you need to get through this, I¡¯ll help you.¡± The sincerity in her voice makes my throat tighten with unexpected emotion. I swallow hard, fighting back the sudden urge to cry. There¡¯s something profoundly lonely about being understood only partway, about having someone acknowledge your pain while completely misinterpreting its source. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°But don¡¯t you think it¡¯s weird how I¡¯m horny for you all the time?¡± I blurt out, pulling back to look at her face. ¡°Most men aren¡¯t like that, right? Not in this world, at least.¡± Caterina¡¯s brow furrows, a shadow passing across her features. She hesitates, clearly weighing her words carefully before speaking. ¡°Uhh... Dr. Ramirez said that happens to... assault victims sometimes,¡± she says reluctantly, her crimson eyes darkening with discomfort. ¡°It¡¯s a way of trying to reclaim control over your sexuality after it¡¯s been violated.¡± I sigh deeply, the sound dragging up from the bottom of my lungs like it¡¯s weighted with lead. ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± I mutter. ¡°That¡¯s fucking dark.¡± She nods awkwardly and says, ¡°Yeah.¡± I stare at the ceiling for a moment, the weight of her misinterpretation settling over me like a heavy blanket. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the presidential suite, and the silence between us grows thick with unspoken words and misunderstood truths. ¡°Hey, how about a drink?¡± I suddenly suggest, pushing myself up from the bed. The movement is abrupt, almost desperate, anything to shift us away from this conversation that¡¯s going nowhere. ¡°What?¡± Caterina looks genuinely surprised, her crimson eyes widening slightly. ¡°Do you ever do shots?¡± I ask, already moving toward the bar in the corner of the suite, needing distance, needing movement, needing anything to break the suffocating empathy that¡¯s based on completely misunderstanding who I am. She laughs, the sound unexpectedly light and musical, a stark contrast to the heaviness that had settled between us. ¡°If the moment calls for it.¡± She says. ¡°Maybe shots will fix the vibe,¡± I say, picking up a bottle of expensive tequila and examining the label. Caterina hesitates, her fingers absently playing with a strand of her golden hair. She studies me with those unnerving crimson eyes, and I can almost see her calculating, weighing options, considering potential outcomes. ¡°Are you sure you really want to get drunk?¡± she asks finally, her voice carrying a note of genuine concern. I nod, already pulling out two shot glasses from beneath the bar. ¡°It¡¯s just too sad in here right now,¡± I say simply, the honesty of the statement hanging naked in the air between us. Something in my words seems to reach her. Her expression softens, and a small, understanding smile curves her lips. ¡°Alright then,¡± she agrees, rising from like a Goddess summoned by my words. She removes her white suit jacket, draping it carefully over a nearby chair, leaving her in a crisp button-down shirt that accentuates the strong lines of her shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s have fun then.¡± Chapter 17: Mata Nui I¡¯m pretty drunk. The room sways pleasantly around me, the opulent furnishings of the presidential suite blurring at the edges like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. The crystal shot glass feels heavy in my hand, catching the light in fractured rainbows that dance across my fingers. We pound our 4th shot together, the tequila burning a fiery path down my throat. I follow it with a sip of the cocktail Caterina made me earlier, something fruity and deceptively strong that masks the alcohol beneath layers of sweetness. ¡®A boy drink, she called it.¡¯ ¡°Whoa,¡± I mutter, setting the empty shot glass down with more force than intended. It makes a sharp clink against the marble bar top that echoes through the suite. My legs feel like they¡¯re made of rubber, and I sway slightly on my feet, reaching out to steady myself against the bar. The polished surface is cool beneath my palm, anchoring me momentarily to reality. Caterina watches me with those sexy, unsettling eyes, amusement playing at the corners of her mouth. Unlike me, she seems barely affected by the alcohol. Her movements remain precise and controlled, her gaze sharp and focused. ¡°Adam, you¡¯re wobbling,¡± she says, her voice carrying a note of concern beneath the obvious entertainment she¡¯s deriving from my inebriated state. I try to stand up straighter, but it only makes the room tilt more dramatically. I gesture vaguely with my drink, some of it sloshing over the rim and onto my hand. ¡°No, you¡¯re wobbling,¡± I slur, pointing an accusatory finger at Caterina that somehow ends up aimed at a lamp instead. ¡°This whole room is out of order!¡± Caterina shakes her head, golden hair swaying hypnotically with the movement. She sets her own glass down on the bar with deliberate precision and moves toward me, her steps smooth and measured. ¡°Come here, silly boy,¡± she says, her voice warm with affection. She wraps an arm around my waist, supporting me as my knees threaten to buckle beneath me. ¡°Let¡¯s get you somewhere you can sit before you fall down.¡± Her body feels solid and warm against mine, a stabilizing force in my tilting world. She guides me toward the plush couch, her grip firm but gentle. We reach the couch, and Caterina eases me down onto the soft cushions. The leather is cool against my overheated skin, and I sink into it with a contented sigh. Caterina sits beside me, turning her body to face mine. She tucks one leg beneath her, looking remarkably casual for someone who was the picture of corporate professionalism just hours ago. Her crimson eyes study my face with fond amusement, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. ¡°You¡¯re always so funny when you¡¯re drunk,¡± she says, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. Her touch lingers, gentle fingers tracing the line of my brow, carefully avoiding the bruised area around my eye. The alcohol has dismantled whatever filters I normally possess, leaving my thoughts to tumble directly from my brain to my mouth without the usual inspection process. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°I like your pussy,¡± I announce with drunken solemnity as if imparting some profound philosophical truth. Caterina blinks at me, momentarily taken aback, before a laugh bursts from her, rich and genuine. ¡°I know,¡± she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. I lean forward, nearly toppling off the couch in my eagerness. ¡°How can you know?¡± I demand, my voice louder than necessary. She steadies me with a hand on my shoulder, still chuckling. ¡°Adam. You make it very obvious.¡± As she speaks, her fingers move to the top button of her shirt, unfastening it with casual ease. My eyes lock onto the movement, my mouth suddenly dry despite all the alcohol I¡¯ve consumed. She continues down, one button after another, revealing a strip of smooth skin that widens with each flick of her fingers. My breathing becomes audibly heavier, each inhale a little more ragged than the last. The room seems to narrow until all I can see is Caterina, her golden hair catching the light, her crimson eyes watching me with a mixture of amusement and heat as she slowly, deliberately undresses. She pauses halfway down, her shirt hanging open enough to reveal the elegant lines of her collarbone and the upper curves of her breasts, held in a simple black bra. ¡°You¡¯re obsessed with my breasts, though,¡± she says, her head tilting slightly as she studies my reaction. ¡°That¡¯s kinda odd, isn¡¯t it?¡± I stare in confusion, my alcohol-soaked brain struggling to process her words. ¡°Odd? What¡¯s odd about it?¡± I gesture expansively toward her chest, nearly spilling my forgotten drink. ¡°Your tits are perfect! They¡¯re like... like... art. But better. Because art you can¡¯t touch. Usually.¡± She glances down at my lap, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. ¡°Look,¡± she says, nodding toward the obvious bulge in my pants. ¡°They made you rock hard. Just from seeing this much.¡± I look down at myself, then back up at her, bewilderment written across my flushed face. ¡°Yeah? Because I love them?¡± I say it like a question, genuinely confused by her point. ¡°But isn¡¯t that weird?¡± she presses, her fingers resuming their work on her buttons until her shirt hangs completely open. ¡°Most men don¡¯t get this excited about breasts. They¡¯re just... breasts.¡± I stare at her with glazed eyes, processing her words through the pleasant haze of tequila. ¡°Not... excited about breasts?¡± The concept feels fundamentally wrong, like saying water isn¡¯t wet or Frankenstein¡¯s monster isn¡¯t kosher. ¡°But they¡¯re tits!¡± A delighted laugh escapes her, and she shakes her head, golden hair swaying with the movement. ¡°You¡¯re ridiculous.¡± Before I can formulate a proper defense of my completely reasonable breast appreciation, Caterina reaches forward and gently cups my face in her hands. With careful movements, mindful of my swollen eye, she guides my head forward until my face is nestled against her chest. ¡°Is this what you want?¡± she asks, her voice soft and teasing above me. The world narrows to this single point of contact, my cheek against the warm, soft skin of her chest. I feel my entire body relax, tension melting away like ice in summer heat. A contented sigh escapes me, embarrassingly close to a moan. ¡°This is the life,¡± I mumble against her skin. Her chuckle vibrates against my face, and her fingers thread through my hair, stroking gently. ¡°You¡¯re like a dog with a bone,¡± she murmurs, amusement coloring her voice. ¡°So easy to please.¡± I nuzzle closer, emboldened by alcohol and her apparent acceptance of my fascination. ¡°Can you take your bra off?¡± I ask, the words slurring together slightly but the request unmistakable. She pulls back slightly, looking down at me with raised eyebrows. ¡°Why? So you can suck my nipples like a baby?¡± There¡¯s no judgment in her voice, just genuine curiosity tinged with amusement. ¡°Yeah,¡± I reply, my voice coming out entitled and demanding, like a child asking for candy. Caterina¡¯s eyebrows climb higher, but her lips curve into an indulgent smile. ¡°Look at you, so bold when you¡¯re drunk,¡± she says, her crimson eyes glittering with something like affection. Her hand reaches behind her back, fingers finding the clasp of her bra with practiced ease. With a flick of her wrist, the garment loosens, and she shrugs her shoulders, letting both her shirt and bra slide down her arms in one fluid motion. The items fall forgotten to the floor, leaving her bare from the waist up, golden hair cascading over her shoulders and framing her exposed breasts. I stare at her, mouth slightly agape, my alcohol-addled brain struggling to process the perfection before me. Her breasts are full and firm, the skin smooth and pale in the dim light of the suite. Her nipples are a soft pink. To me, they¡¯re the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen. To her, they¡¯re just another body part, as casual as an elbow or knee. ¡°Come here,¡± she says, her voice low and inviting as she beckons me forward with one crooked finger. ¡°Come to Momma.¡± I nearly fall off the couch in my eagerness to comply, the world tilting dangerously as I lurch toward her. She steadies me with a hand on my shoulder, laughing softly at my drunken enthusiasm. ¡°Slow down,¡± she murmurs, guiding me with gentle pressure. ¡°They¡¯re not going anywhere.¡± As I nestle against her, face pressed to her warm skin, a thought bubbles up through the alcoholic haze, demanding expression with an urgency that only drunk people understand. ¡°Cat,¡± I mumble against her breast, my lips moving against her skin. ¡°How did you fall in love with me?¡± The question hangs between us, surprisingly vulnerable despite my inebriated state. I feel her body stiffen slightly beneath my cheek, her breath catching in a way that¡¯s almost imperceptible. Her fingers continue their gentle stroking of my hair, but there¡¯s a new tension in her touch. For several long moments, she says nothing, and I begin to think she hasn¡¯t heard me or is choosing to ignore the question. ¡°It¡¯s really stupid,¡± she finally says. I pull back slightly, trying to focus my bleary eyes on her face. The room swims around her, but her crimson eyes remain fixed points in my swaying vision. ¡°Oh?¡± I prompt, curiosity burning through the pleasant fog of tequila. ¡°Tell me.¡± She hesitates, her crimson eyes distant as if looking into the past. Her free hand moves to mine, guiding it upward until my palm rests against the warm, soft weight of her breast. I exhale sharply at the contact, my fingers instinctively curving to cup her flesh. ¡°It was a few years ago,¡± she begins, her voice taking on a dreamy quality as her other hand drifts down to my lap. ¡°At a work Christmas party.¡± Her fingers find me through my pants, applying gentle pressure that makes my breath catch. Even through the fabric, her touch sends sparks of pleasure racing up my spine. ¡°You were standing alone,¡± she continues, her hand moving in slow, deliberate circles that make it hard to focus on her words. ¡°Claire had wandered off to the slot machines, as usual.¡± I moan softly as her thumb traces a particularly sensitive spot, my hand unconsciously squeezing her breast in response. She smiles at my reaction, her movements becoming more purposeful. ¡°I was on the second-floor balcony, surveying the party. All my employees in their holiday best, drinking my champagne, eating my food.¡± Her voice takes on a possessive edge that sends a shiver through me. ¡°And there you were, looking so out of place in that ill-fitting suit, nursing a drink in the corner.¡± My hips move of their own accord, seeking more pressure against her hand. She obliges, applying firmer strokes that make coherent thought increasingly difficult. ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but I approached you,¡± she says, her voice dropping lower. ¡°Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the sad look in your eyes. Maybe it was just that you were the only person not trying to impress me.¡± I pant against her skin, drunk on both tequila and sensation. My thumb brushes across her nipple, and she makes a small sound, not quite a moan but something softer, more surprised. ¡°We stood there together, looking down at all those people,¡± she continues, her rhythm never faltering. ¡°And do you know what you said to me?¡± I shake my head, unable to form words as pleasure builds in my core, her hand working magic through the fabric of my pants. Her smile turns fond, almost wistful. ¡°You looked at the crowd, all those people networking and schmoozing, and you said, ¡®All these people, and not one of them is talking about Bionicle.¡¯¡± I break into a fit of drunken laughter. ¡°You fell in love with me... because of Bionicle?¡± I manage to ask between laughs, my hand still cupping her breast. Caterina¡¯s hand stills on my lap, and she pulls back slightly to look at me properly. ¡°You made me laugh,¡± she says simply, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. ¡°Really laugh. Not the fake laugh I use in business meetings or the polite chuckle I give at bad jokes from politicians. A real, unexpected laugh that came from somewhere I thought had dried up years ago.¡± She looks away, her profile sharp and beautiful against the dim light of the suite. ¡°It was a really hard year, Adam. Along with the divorce, I was fighting off three different attempts to take over our territory. I hadn¡¯t slept more than four hours a night in months.¡± Her fingers trace idle patterns on my thigh, no longer stimulating but simply maintaining contact. ¡°And then there you were, this adorable man with sad eyes, talking about little plastic toys with complete sincerity while the entire casino management team was downstairs plotting ways to climb the corporate ladder.¡± I stare at her, trying to process this information through the pleasant haze of alcohol. It¡¯s such a mundane reason to fall in love. ¡°Bionicle,¡± I repeat the word slurring slightly. ¡°Mata Nui.¡± She kisses me suddenly, her lips capturing mine with a fierceness that takes my breath away. Her hand slides up to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair as she deepens the kiss. I taste tequila on her tongue as it dances with mine. When she finally pulls away, we¡¯re both breathing heavily. Her crimson eyes hold mine, pupils dilated with desire. ¡°After that, I don¡¯t know,¡± she says, her voice husky. ¡°A little light stalking bloomed into full stalking.¡± I blink at her. ¡°Full stalking?¡± ¡®So fucking hot.¡¯ She nods, not a hint of shame in her expression. ¡°I had my people follow you. I learned your schedule, your habits. I watched security footage of you at the casino when Claire dragged you there.¡± Her fingers trace the outline of my jaw with gentle precision. ¡°I knew Claire was gambling away your savings, but you never complained. You just kept showing up to support her, trying to get her to leave before things got worse.¡± My eyes widen, a mix of shock and, something else flickering through me. The alcohol amplifies everything, turning what should probably terrify me into something thrilling. ¡°That¡¯s so fucking hot,¡± I blurt out. ¡°You stalked me?¡± ¡°I had a file on everyone you spoke to regularly,¡± she continues, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. ¡°I knew your favorite cereal was running low before you did. I knew which romance novels you read when Claire wasn¡¯t home.¡± The idea of her watching me, studying me, wanting me so much that she¡¯d invade every aspect of my life shouldn¡¯t be arousing, but God help me, it is. Caterina glances down at my lap again at the obvious reaction to her words. She shakes her head slowly, that amused smile never leaving her lips. ¡°You really are a weird guy. Most men would be terrified learning they¡¯d been watched like that. But you...¡± Her hand cups me through my pants, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp. ¡°You¡¯re practically begging for more.¡± I nod at her. Caterina smirks mischievously. She looks at me and stands up. ¡°Come on then. Let me show you how much I want you.¡± Chapter 18: The Frontier I¡¯m on my back, staring up at the ceiling while Caterina rides me with a fervor that borders on insanity. My head spins with a mix of booze and desire, and I can barely remember how we got from the couch to the bed. Not that it matters. She moves above me. Her hair is wild around her face, eyes burning with an intensity that makes my heart race. I reach up, hands finding her breasts again as she rolls her hips against mine. Her laugh is breathless, almost unhinged, as she leans forward, pressing her body against mine. ¡°You have no idea what you do to me,¡± she murmurs, voice edged with that manic energy I both fear and crave. I let out a low moan, my hands sliding down to grip her waist as she sets a relentless pace. Each movement sends shockwaves of pleasure through me, drowning out any coherent thought. ¡°You belong to me,¡± she growls, sitting up again and pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. Her other hand trails down my chest, nails scraping lightly over skin until it reaches where we¡¯re joined. The added pressure makes me cry out, my body arching up into hers in desperate need for more. She watches every reaction with predatory delight, her movements becoming erratic and fevered. ¡°Say it,¡± she demands, not slowing for even a second. ¡°Say you¡¯re mine.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± I shout hoarsely, too drunk to argue or care about anything except the woman driving me insane with lust. ¡°I¡¯m yours!¡± Caterina releases my wrists and grabs my shoulders instead, pulling me up into a half-sitting position so our faces are inches apart. Her breathing is ragged but triumphant as she kisses me hard enough to bruise. ¡°Such a good boy,¡± she whispers against my lips, her voice dripping with satisfaction. ¡°My good, good boy.¡± Something electric shoots through me at those words. I feel myself grow impossibly harder inside her, a reaction so immediate and powerful that Caterina gasps, her rhythm faltering for just a moment. She pulls back slightly, those crimson eyes widening with delighted discovery. ¡°Oh,¡± she breathes, a wicked smile spreading across her flushed face. ¡°Is that your thing?¡± Caterina leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear as she resumes her movements, somehow more deliberate now, more calculated. Each roll of her hips is precisely timed to match the words she whispers directly into my brain. ¡°A boy with mommy issues?¡± she purrs, her breath hot against my skin. ¡°Is that what you are, Adam? Do you need me to take care of you? To tell you what a good boy you¡¯re being while I fuck you senseless?¡± ¡®Fuck. She got me on sight.¡¯ I moan helplessly, my hands gripping her thighs hard enough to leave marks. The combination of her words and her body is overwhelming, short-circuiting whatever meager defenses I might have maintained if I were sober. ¡°I..I don¡¯t¡­¡± I stammer, but the protest dies in my throat as she shifts her angle, hitting a spot inside me that makes coherent thought impossible. ¡°Shh,¡± she soothes, one hand coming up to stroke my hair like I¡¯m a frightened animal. ¡°You don¡¯t have to explain. Just let me take care of everything.¡± Her rhythm slows to something more hypnotic, a gentle rise and fall that stands in stark contrast to the frenzy of moments before. The change in pace allows me to catch my breath, but only barely. Each movement is now deliberate, targeted, designed to build something more devastating than before. ¡°Let me show you something,¡± she murmurs. Her crimson eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. ¡°Something you might not know about yourself.¡± One of her hands trails down my chest, nails leaving faint red lines in their wake. Her touch is exploratory, curious, as if she¡¯s mapping territory she plans to claim. I watch her through the pleasant haze of alcohol, my body responding to her every touch with embarrassing eagerness. ¡°I¡¯ve fantasized about this for years,¡± she confesses, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. ¡°About teaching you things. Showing you pleasures you never knew existed.¡± Her hand continues its journey downward, past where our bodies join, venturing further. I¡¯m too caught up in sensation to fully register her destination until I feel her fingers slip between my thighs, seeking access to a place I hadn¡¯t considered. The unfamiliar touch sends a jolt through me, part surprise, part something else I can¡¯t quite name. My eyes widen as I finally understand her intention. Her finger circles my entrance gently, the touch so light it¡¯s almost teasing. My alcohol-addled brain takes a moment too long to process what¡¯s happening, and by then, her other hand has moved to my chest, pressing me firmly back against the mattress. ¡°What are you¡­¡± I begin, but my words dissolve into a shocked gasp as Caterina slowly and carefully shoves her index finger in my ass. The intrusion is alien, unexpected, a boundary crossed that I hadn¡¯t even considered defending. My body tenses immediately, muscles clenching against the unfamiliar sensation. ¡°Wait, don¡¯t do that,¡± I protest, my voice higher than usual, hands flying to her wrist in a belated attempt to stop her. ¡°Shhh,¡± she soothes, not removing her finger but not pushing deeper either. ¡°Let Momma make you feel good.¡± She smiles down at me with manic glee, her crimson eyes alight with a predatory excitement that¡¯s both terrifying and somehow arousing. Her golden hair falls around us like a curtain, creating a private world where only her rules apply. ¡°Relax,¡± she purrs, her voice a hypnotic command. ¡°The more you fight it, the more it hurts. Just breathe.¡± The alcohol in my system dulls the edges of what should probably be panic, transforming it into a strange, buzzing curiosity. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡± I try again, but Caterina cuts me off. ¡°Trust me,¡± she whispers, leaning down to press her lips against mine in a surprisingly gentle kiss. ¡°I know what your body needs better than you do.¡± Her finger moves slightly, adjusting its angle, and suddenly... ¡°Holy fuck!¡± I gasp as an explosion of pleasure, unlike anything I¡¯ve ever experienced, shoots through me like lightning. My back arches involuntarily, pressing me deeper into both her finger and her body. Caterina laughs, the sound triumphant and slightly unhinged. ¡°There it is,¡± she says, her smile widening to something almost predatory. ¡°Your sweet spot. The button that makes you mine completely.¡± Her movements quicken, her finger moving in perfect rhythm with her hips. The overwhelming combination has me teetering on the edge, but Caterina isn¡¯t done. With a sudden, graceful shift, she pulls herself off me completely and slides down my body. Her hand never leaves its scandalous position as she settles between my legs, her mouth descending on me before I can even register what¡¯s happening. ¡°Oh shit,¡± I choke out as her lips wrap around me, the heat and wetness of her mouth sending a shockwave through my already overstimulated senses. Caterina¡¯s tongue is relentless, swirling around the tip of my cock while her finger continues to work magic I didn¡¯t know was possible. She sucks hard, each pull of her mouth perfectly synchronized with the motions of her hand. The dual assault is too much. I¡¯m unraveling under her touch, every nerve ending firing in rapid succession until all that¡¯s left is raw, unfiltered sensation. ¡°Fuck! Fuck!¡± I gasp, clutching at the sheets like a lifeline. Caterina moans around my length in response, the vibrations pushing me further toward an inevitable end. Her free hand grips my hip possessively, holding me in place as she devours me with single-minded intensity. I¡¯m lost in it now, lost in her, and I don¡¯t want to be found. Everything narrows down to the feeling of being filled and consumed at once, a perfect storm of pleasure that she¡¯s orchestrated with ruthless precision. ¡°I¡¯m gonna¡­¡± The warning comes out as more of a plea than anything else. Caterina doubles down, taking me deeper into her throat while adding another finger inside me. The stretch is unexpected but not unwelcome, and when she curls them just so¡­ I explode. The orgasm hits like a freight train, ripping through me with such force that I¡¯m left shaking and gasping for air. Caterina doesn¡¯t stop, not even for a second, milking every last bit of pleasure from my trembling body until I¡¯m utterly spent and boneless beneath her. Finally, mercifully, she releases me with one last teasing lick and crawls back up to where I¡¯m lying in dazed disbelief. Her golden hair is wild around her flushed face; those crimson eyes are alight with victory. ¡°See?¡± she says smugly, brushing damp strands from my forehead. ¡°Told you I¡¯d take care of everything.¡± I¡¯m too wrecked to respond with anything more than an exhausted nod. My entire world has been turned upside down in the span of minutes. Everything I thought I knew about myself rewritten by this impossibly intense woman who¡¯s claimed me so completely. ¡®This isn¡¯t right.¡¯ Caterina laughs softly at my speechless state and wraps herself around me like a possessive cat claiming its territory. ¡°My perfect little toy,¡± she whispers contentedly into my neck as we both drift into satisfied oblivion. ***** The hot shower was exactly what I needed to wash away the evidence of our activities, though the memory remains vivid despite my lingering hangover. The bathroom mirror had revealed a man I barely recognized, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and that damned swollen black eye that serves as a constant reminder of my complicated situation. I scrubbed myself clean with movements that felt mechanical, my mind still reeling from last night¡¯s revelations, both about Caterina¡¯s feelings for me and about my own unexpected responses to her more... adventurous explorations. ¡®I didn¡¯t even like it. This is so fucked up.¡¯ Now I¡¯m sprawled across the living room sofa, my head resting in Caterina¡¯s lap as she absently strokes my damp hair. She¡¯s dressed casually in silk loungewear, her golden hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that somehow makes her look both younger and more approachable. The afternoon sun filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting the presidential suite in a warm glow that belies the turmoil in my mind. My face must betray my thoughts because Caterina¡¯s fingers pause in their gentle caress of my scalp. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, baby?¡± she asks, her crimson eyes studying my expression with that unnerving intensity that seems to see straight through me. I hesitate, the words forming and dissolving on my tongue several times before I finally blurt them out. ¡°I¡¯m not gay.¡± ¡®Not that there¡¯s anything wrong with that.¡¯ The statement hangs in the air between us, awkward and abrupt. Caterina blinks, her hand frozen mid-stroke in my hair. ¡°What?¡± she says, genuine confusion furrowing her brow. ¡°I never said you were.¡± I push myself up to a sitting position, wincing slightly at both the movement and the absurdity of this conversation. ¡°Last night,¡± I begin, then stop, unsure how to continue without sounding ridiculous. ¡°What we did... I¡¯ve never done that before.¡± Caterina¡¯s expression shifts from confusion to understanding, then to something that looks dangerously close to amusement. ¡°You mean when I played with your ass?¡± I feel heat rush to my face, the bluntness of her words making me squirm. ¡°Yeah, that.¡± ¡°And you think that makes you gay?¡± she asks, her tone carefully neutral despite the twitch at the corner of her mouth that suggests she¡¯s fighting a smile. ¡°No! I mean, I don¡¯t know,¡± I stammer, running a hand through my still-damp hair in frustration. ¡°Where I¡¯m from... I mean, guys don¡¯t usually...¡± ¡°Enjoy prostate stimulation?¡± she supplies helpfully, not bothering to hide her smile now. ¡°Adam, that has nothing to do with sexual orientation. It¡¯s just anatomy. ¡° She pulls me close, her laughter a gentle rumble against my chest. ¡°Adam, no woman would ever accuse a man of being gay for liking a little prostate tickle. That¡¯s just ridiculous.¡± Her fingers trace idle patterns on my shoulder as she speaks, her touch casual yet somehow grounding. ¡°And even if you were gay, it¡¯d just be hotter for most women.¡± I blink at her, trying to process this statement through my lingering hangover. ¡°Hotter?¡± S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Her expression shifts suddenly, the playful warmth in her crimson eyes hardening into something cold and possessive. Her hands, which had been gently caressing me, clench down hard on my shoulders, her fingers digging into my skin with enough pressure to make me wince. ¡°But you¡¯re never allowed to do anything with other men,¡± she says, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. ¡°That would still be cheating, unlike what some other women might think.¡± The abrupt change in her demeanor sends a chill down my spine despite the warmth of the sunlit room. This is the Caterina who gave me a black eye, the mob boss who inspires fear with a single glance. Her crimson eyes bore into mine, demanding acknowledgment, obedience. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± I say quickly, raising my hands in surrender. ¡°We both agree, no gay stuff.¡± Her grip loosens immediately, the storm in her eyes clearing as quickly as it formed. She smiles, transforming back into the affectionate woman who stroked my hair just moments ago. The rapid shift is disorienting, a reminder of just how volatile she can be. ¡°Good boy,¡± she purrs, leaning forward to place a surprisingly tender kiss on my forehead. ¡°I¡¯m glad we understand each other.¡± I exhale slowly, tension draining from my shoulders as the danger passes. ¡°For the record,¡± I mutter, ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning on it anyway.¡± ¡®If ass play isn¡¯t gay, then I guess it¡¯s fine.¡¯ Chapter 19: Spaghett About It It¡¯s been two weeks since I got my black eye. The swelling is now gone but the bruising remains, a yellowish-purple smudge that¡¯s fading but still visible. Looking better though. I catch glimpses of my healing face in reflective surfaces as Caterina, and I walk through the upscale lobby of her building, her arm wrapped possessively around my waist. Caterina holds me close as we walk into her newly renovated penthouse. The elevator opens directly into the foyer, a private entrance that requires a special key card and fingerprint scan. She¡¯s been teasing me about this reveal all week, keeping me in the presidential suite while the ¡°finishing touches¡± were applied to what she calls our ¡°real home.¡± ¡°Ta-dah!¡± she says with uncharacteristic playfulness as we step inside. She makes a sweeping gesture with her free arm, like a game show hostess revealing a prize. ¡®Immaculate.¡¯ That¡¯s the first word that comes to mind. The second is ¡®massive.¡¯ The penthouse sprawls before us in an open floor plan that must take up the entire top floor of the building. Floor-to-ceiling windows line the far wall, offering a panoramic view of Boston that makes the city look like a model train set, tiny and perfect and somehow under our control. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I breathe, taking in the space with wide eyes. ¡°Do you like it?¡± Caterina asks, and there¡¯s something almost vulnerable in her voice, a note of uncertainty I¡¯ve rarely heard from her. Her crimson eyes watch me carefully, gauging my reaction. ¡°It¡¯s incredible,¡± I say honestly because it is. The space is designed with a minimalist aesthetic that somehow manages to feel warm rather than sterile. The color palette is mostly neutral. Whites, grays, and blacks, with occasional splashes of deep crimson that match Caterina¡¯s eyes. She beams at my response, her entire face lighting up with pleasure. ¡°Come, let me show you around,¡± she says, tugging me forward by the hand like an excited child eager to show off a new toy. The living area features a sunken conversation pit with the most comfortable-looking sectional sofa I¡¯ve ever seen, positioned to take advantage of both the view and the enormous wall-mounted television. A gas fireplace is built into one wall, its flames dancing behind glass. ¡°This is the main living space, obviously,¡± Caterina explains, gesturing around us. ¡°The kitchen is through there. It¡¯s been completely redesigned. The chef says it¡¯s ¡¯a dream to work in,¡¯ whatever that means.¡± I catch a glimpse of gleaming stainless steel and white marble through an archway. ¡°You have a chef?¡± I ask though I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m surprised. ¡°I have several,¡± Caterina says with a casual wave of her hand. ¡°They rotate. But they don¡¯t live here if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. They come in to prepare meals and leave.¡± She continues the tour, showing me a formal dining room that looks like it belongs in a design magazine, a home office with built-in bookshelves reaching to the ceiling, and a small gym equipped with state-of-the-art machines. ¡°And this,¡± she says with a flourish, pushing open a set of double doors, ¡°is our bedroom.¡± The master suite is bigger than the entire apartment I had in my old life. A massive king-sized bed dominates the space, its frame a sleek platform of dark wood. The same floor-to-ceiling windows from the living area continue here, though these are equipped with automated blackout curtains. A sitting area with two comfortable-looking armchairs occupies one corner. ¡°What do you think?¡± Caterina asks, watching my face closely. ¡°It¡¯s...¡± I struggle to find the right words. ¡°It¡¯s amazing. But also kind of intimidating?¡± Caterina laughs, the sound warm and genuine. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it,¡± she assures me, squeezing my hand. ¡°This is your home now.¡± My home. The phrase settles uncomfortably in my chest. This isn¡¯t my home, it¡¯s a gilded cage, no matter how beautiful. I¡¯m still essentially a captive, my freedom contingent on Caterina¡¯s whims. ¡°And there¡¯s one more thing I need to show you,¡± Caterina says, suddenly serious. She leads me toward the far corner of the bedroom, where an abstract painting hangs on the wall. With a quick glance over her shoulder, as if checking that we¡¯re truly alone despite being in her secure penthouse, she reaches for the edge of the frame. The painting swings outward on hidden hinges, revealing a sleek electronic keypad embedded in the wall behind it. ¡°Look,¡± she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡°This is important, okay?¡± I nod, suddenly alert. The shift in her demeanor has my full attention. ¡°Nothing will ever happen to me,¡± she continues, her crimson eyes locking with mine, ¡°but God forbid it does... this is an armory and a safe room, okay?¡± She taps the keypad with one perfectly manicured finger. ¡°The code is 2326. Remember that.¡± ¡°2326,¡± I repeat, committing the numbers to memory. She nods approvingly and punches in the code. There¡¯s a soft beep, followed by the sound of heavy locks disengaging. A section of wall slides open, revealing a hidden room that makes my jaw drop. The space beyond is like something out of an action movie. One wall is lined with weapons, sleek rifles mounted on racks, handguns displayed in glass cases, boxes of ammunition stacked neatly on shelves. Another wall holds monitors showing security feeds from around the building. But what catches my eye is the money. Stacks and stacks of cash, bound in neat bundles, filling a large safe with its door standing open. ¡°I keep five hundred thousand on hand at all times, okay?¡± Caterina says matter-of-factly, as if having half a million dollars in cash is the most normal thing in the world. Maybe for her, it is. Her hand suddenly grips my arm with surprising strength, her fingers digging into my flesh with an urgency that startles me. Her eyes, those unnerving crimson pools, bore into mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. ¡°If you ever, EVER are in an emergency,¡± she says, each word deliberate and heavy with meaning, ¡°you take whatever you need from this room.¡± I nod, unable to look away from her gaze. ¡°Okay.¡± She doesn¡¯t release my arm. If anything, her grip tightens. ¡°I mean it, Adam. The guns, the money, whatever you need to stay safe.¡± My eyes drift past her to the contents of the room, and I notice something else, a small cabinet with several passports visible through its glass door. They appear to be from different countries, though I can¡¯t make out the details from where I stand. ¡°Those are passports,¡± Caterina says, following my gaze. ¡°German, Canadian, Brazilian, and Swiss. Clean identities, untraceable.¡± ¡°Even for me?¡± I ask, surprise evident in my voice. Her eyes find mine again, fierce and unwavering. The crimson seems to burn with an inner fire as she leans closer, her face inches from mine. ¡°Adam, yes,¡± she says, her voice dropping to an intense whisper. ¡°I would rather die than leave you behind.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I mumble, genuinely touched despite myself. But in my mind, I can¡¯t help thinking that feels like a hell of a lot of pressure. The intensity of her devotion is both flattering and terrifying. My eyes drift back to the stacks of cash, neat bundles of hundreds arranged with military precision. I find myself calculating, almost unconsciously, how much I would need to grab for a fresh start somewhere far away. Enough for a plane ticket, a few months¡¯ rent while I figure things out... ¡®I mean¡­ Fuck it, right? I¡¯d probably be safer if I left.¡¯ Caterina¡¯s gaze follows mine, her expression shifting as she watches me staring at the money. Something cold and dangerous flickers in those crimson depths. Before I can react, she¡¯s pushing me against the wall, her forearm pressed against my chest with pinning me in place. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°If you ever think about running away, Adam and I catch you,¡± she says, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper, ¡°do you know what I¡¯ll do to you?¡± I gulp, my heart hammering against my ribs as I stare into eyes that have gone from passionate to glacial in seconds. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that.¡± I say as if that¡¯s not what I was just considering. ¡°I will make you feel pain you didn¡¯t even know was possible,¡± she continues as if I hadn¡¯t spoken, her voice eerily calm despite the violence of her words. ¡°Pain that will make you forget your own name.¡± ¡°This is so over the top,¡± I protest weakly, trying to defuse the situation. ¡°I¡¯m not going to leave.¡± Her hand shoots up, fingers gripping my jaw with bruising force, forcing me to look directly into her eyes. ¡°If you try to leave me, Adam,¡± she says, each word precise and deadly, ¡°I will make sure to leave proper marks next time. Ones that won¡¯t fade so quickly.¡± ¡°Okay, okay,¡± I say quickly, fear snaking through me at the casual way she threatens violence, reminding me of the bruise still healing around my eye. As suddenly as it began, the storm passes. Caterina¡¯s expression transforms, the cold rage melting away to be replaced by tender concern. She releases my jaw and wraps her arms around me instead, pulling me into a tight embrace. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whispers against my neck, her breath warm and slightly unsteady. ¡°I just don¡¯t want you to run away.¡± Her arms tighten around me, clinging with a desperation that feels at odds with the powerful, controlled woman who, moments ago, had me pinned against the wall. I can feel her heartbeat, rapid and strong, against my chest. ¡°I¡¯m not going to,¡± I say. Not really sure how to feel. ¡®Her temper really does scare the shit out of me.¡¯ Caterina pulls back slightly, her crimson eyes searching mine as if looking for the truth behind my words. Whatever she sees there must satisfy her because the tension drains from her shoulders, and a small smile curves her lips. ¡°Alright,¡± she says, her voice returning to its normal confident cadence. She steps back, straightening her already immaculate white suit with quick, efficient movements. ¡°Go put on the suit I laid out for you in your closet. We¡¯re going out to eat.¡± She smiles at me and points to a door I hadn¡¯t noticed before, set into the wall opposite the bed. There¡¯s something playful in her expression now, like a child who can¡¯t wait to show off a surprise. I raise an eyebrow but comply, crossing the room to the indicated door. When I pull it open, I¡¯m confronted with what can only be described as a boutique-sized closet. The space is easily as large as the bedroom in my old apartment, with rows of hanging clothes, built-in drawers, and a center island with what looks like jewelry displayed under glass. ¡°Jesus,¡± I mutter, taking in the sheer volume of items. ¡°Is all this for me?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Caterina calls from the bedroom. I can hear the smile in her voice. ¡°Your old clothes were... well, let¡¯s just say they didn¡¯t do you justice.¡± ¡®I never really was a clothes guy.¡¯ I move deeper into the closet, my fingers trailing over fabrics that feel expensive to the touch. Shirts in every color imaginable, though heavy on the blues and greens. Suits arranged by shade and season. Casual wear that looks anything but casual in its apparent quality. Shoes lined up with military precision along one wall. And there, hanging prominently on a display at the far end, is a white suit that¡¯s clearly meant to match Caterina¡¯s signature look. The fabric gleams softly under the recessed lighting, crisp and pristine. ¡°Jesus, this is really fancy.¡± ***** The restaurant is nestled in the heart of Boston¡¯s North End, an elegant establishment that somehow manages to be both traditional and modern at the same time. De Luca¡¯s, Caterina¡¯s namesake and, as I recently discovered, her family¡¯s flagship restaurant for three generations. The space is all polished wood, crisp white tablecloths, and subtle lighting that makes everyone look airbrushed. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, hyperaware of how the pristine white suit Caterina selected for me stands out against the darker decor. It¡¯s like wearing a neon sign that says, ¡°Look at me, I¡¯m with the boss.¡± The fabric feels strange against my body, too luxurious, too perfect, like I¡¯m wearing someone else¡¯s skin. ¡®Is this the power Buffalo Bill wished to wield?¡¯ A waiter appears at my elbow with a bottle of wine, pouring a small amount into Caterina¡¯s glass. She swirls it, sniffs, tastes, and nods her approval. Only then does he fill her glass and mine. I notice a couple at a nearby table stealing glances in our direction. The woman whispers something to her companion, her eyes flickering to my face, specifically to the yellow-purple bruise still visible around my eye. But the moment Caterina turns slightly in their direction, they both suddenly become intensely interested in their menus. It¡¯s been happening all evening. A look, a whisper, then a hasty retreat when they realize who I¡¯m dining with. It¡¯s like watching prey animals suddenly realize there¡¯s a predator in their midst. The server returns, this time carrying two plates with what can only be described as culinary architecture. My dish is a complex arrangement of colors and textures that bears little resemblance to anything I¡¯d recognize as food. There¡¯s a piece of what I think is fish surrounded by foams, purees, and tiny vegetables arranged with tweezers. It looks more like modern art than dinner. I stare at the plate, fork hovering uncertainly over the elaborate presentation, not sure where to begin. There are elements on this plate I can¡¯t even identify, let alone know if I¡¯ll enjoy eating. ¡°Why are you staring at it? Eat it, baby, it¡¯s good,¡± Caterina says, already cutting into her own equally elaborate dish with practiced ease. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of things on this plate I¡¯ve never tried before,¡± I admit, poking tentatively at something purple that might be a beet but might also be something from the ocean floor. Caterina pauses, her fork halfway to her mouth, and studies me with those unsettling crimson eyes. A small smile plays at the corners of her perfect lips. She sets her fork down, her crimson eyes studying me with new interest. ¡°Don¡¯t most men love fancy, expensive foods? I thought this would impress you.¡± I shift in my seat, feeling suddenly self-conscious under her scrutiny. The white suit feels even more restrictive like I¡¯m wearing a costume in a play I never auditioned for. ¡°Look, I grew up lower middle class,¡± I explain, keeping my voice low. ¡°My mom, when she was still alive, would take us to Applebee¡¯s as a fancy place to go. That was our special occasion restaurant.¡± Caterina¡¯s expression softens, something like understanding flickering in those crimson depths. She reaches across the table, her hand covering mine. ¡°But why the frown?¡± she asks, her voice gentler than usual. I look down at the artistic arrangement on my plate, the vibrant purples, greens, yellows, and reds all competing for attention, the foams and gels and powders defying my understanding of what food should be. ¡°All these colors are overwhelming,¡± I admit. ¡°I don¡¯t even know where to start. It¡¯s like eating a painting.¡± A small laugh escapes her, not mocking but genuinely amused. ¡°Are you a picky eater?¡± she asks, her head tilting slightly as she continues to study me. I consider the question, thinking about my relationship with food throughout my life. ¡°I¡¯m a work in progress,¡± I say finally. Caterina nods slowly, then signals for the waiter with a subtle gesture that somehow commands immediate attention. When he appears at her side, she speaks in a low voice. ¡°Bring us the spaghetti and meatballs from the family menu, please. Two portions.¡± The waiter¡¯s eyes widen slightly, but he recovers quickly. ¡°Of course, Ms. De Luca. Right away.¡± As he hurries off, I stare at Caterina in surprise. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that.¡± She shrugs elegantly, taking a sip of her wine. ¡°I want you to enjoy your meal, not endure it. Besides,¡± she adds with a small, almost shy smile, ¡°my grandmother¡¯s spaghetti and meatballs is actually the best thing we make here.¡± ¡°I love spaghetti and meatballs. I bet I could eat it every day, honestly.¡± Caterina furrows her brow. ¡°Adam, you would die.¡± Her voice is laced with maternal fear. ¡°No, I bet it¡¯d¡­¡± Caterina cuts me off. ¡°Don¡¯t even consider it.¡± ¡°Understood. A/N I''m up to chapter 26 on discord. Only join if your cool af though. .gg/bQ4GzeBXV8 Chapter 20: Mama Mia!! As I¡¯m eating the best spaghetti and meatballs I¡¯ve ever had in my life, I find myself making little involuntary sounds of pleasure with each bite. The pasta is perfectly al dente, the sauce rich and complex with hints of basil and garlic, and the meatballs... good God, the meatballs are exceptional. It¡¯s like someone distilled the concept of comfort food into its purest form. I¡¯m so engrossed in my meal that I don¡¯t notice Maddy approaching our table until she¡¯s standing right beside us, her tall frame casting a slight shadow over the pristine white tablecloth. ¡°Uhh, hey boss, could we talk in the backroom for a minute?¡± she asks, her voice low and professional. I look up, a forkful of pasta halfway to my mouth, to see Caterina¡¯s expression harden almost imperceptibly. Those crimson eyes flash with annoyance as she looks up at her underboss. ¡°I¡¯m having dinner with Adam,¡± she says, her tone carrying a warning that makes me instinctively tense. Maddy shifts her weight slightly, her green eyes darting briefly to me before returning to Caterina. ¡°It¡¯s important,¡± she says simply. Caterina¡¯s gaze narrows, studying Maddy¡¯s face with the intensity of someone who can read every microexpression. ¡°How important?¡± Maddy nods once, her face carefully neutral. ¡°Yeah. That important.¡± Something passes between the two women, an unspoken communication born of years working together. Caterina sighs, placing her napkin beside her plate with deliberate precision. ¡°Adam, I¡¯ll be right back, okay?¡± she says, her voice softening as she turns to me. I nod, my mouth still full of that incredible pasta. ¡°Alright,¡± I manage after swallowing. Caterina rises from her chair, smoothing her white suit as she stands. She leans down and places a quick, possessive kiss on my lips before following Maddy through the restaurant. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I watch as they move past the main dining room, heading not toward the kitchen as I might have expected but toward a hallway just past the bathrooms. They disappear around the corner, Caterina¡¯s white suit the last thing visible before they¡¯re gone from sight. I return to my meal, savoring each bite while trying not to think too hard about what ¡°important¡± business Maddy might have with Caterina. Given their line of work, it could be anything from a supplier issue to someone needing to be permanently removed from the equation. I take another sip of the wine Caterina selected, a rich red that complements the tomato sauce perfectly. It¡¯s probably obscenely expensive, but my unrefined palate just registers it as ¡°not Root beer.¡± I find myself staring at Caterina¡¯s empty chair, wondering how long she¡¯ll be gone. After a few more bites, I feel a familiar pressure in my bladder. I¡¯ve been so focused on the food that I hadn¡¯t noticed how badly I need to pee. Between the wine and the water, it¡¯s becoming urgent. ¡®I wonder if I peed on the floor and they found out I was with Cat, would they just be like, ¡°Oh uhh good job peeing sir.¡±¡¯ I brush off my intrusive thoughts. I place my napkin beside my plate and push back from the table. Might as well take care of business while Caterina is occupied with whatever ¡°important¡± matter Maddy needed to discuss. I make my way across the dining room, nodding awkwardly at a waiter who steps aside to let me pass. The hallway past the main dining area is dimly lit, with ornate sconces casting a warm glow on the deep red walls. I spot the restroom sign and head in that direction, but as I approach, I hear voices coming from further down the corridor. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this is what you called important,¡± Caterina¡¯s voice, low and dangerous, carries through the hallway. I hesitate, my hand on the bathroom door. I should just go in, do my business, and return to the table. That would be the smart move. The safe move. Instead, I find myself moving toward the sound of Caterina¡¯s voice, drawn by curiosity that I know damn well could get me into trouble. At the end of the hallway, there¡¯s a door left slightly ajar. Light spills out from the crack, along with the continued murmur of voices. I approach silently, thankful for the plush carpet that muffles my footsteps. I lean in, just close enough to peer through the narrow opening, and what I see makes my blood freeze in my veins. The room beyond appears to be some kind of office or private dining area converted for a very different purpose. Plastic sheeting covers the floor, the kind you¡¯d use for painting. But no one¡¯s painting here. In the center of the room, secured to a wooden chair with zip ties and duct tape, sits a woman I¡¯ve never seen before. She¡¯s maybe in her forties, with copper-toned skin and dark hair streaked with premature gray. Her face is swollen, one eye nearly shut from what must have been a vicious punch. Blood trickles from her split lip, dripping onto her once-white blouse. Despite her condition, there¡¯s defiance in her remaining open eye as she stares up at her captors. Standing around her like actors in some grotesque theater production are Caterina, Maddy, and Lara. Lara bounces on her toes with barely contained excitement, her wild red hair swinging with the movement. In her right hand, she holds a meat cleaver, the blade catching the light as she gestures animatedly. Her blue eyes are wide and fever-bright, her smile stretching unnaturally across her face like a Glasgow grin. ¡°Maddy, I told you she wouldn¡¯t want to be interrupted for this,¡± Lara says, her voice lilting and childlike despite the grotesque scene. She twirls the cleaver between her fingers with the casual skill of someone who¡¯s handled knives her entire life. ¡°Now she¡¯s all grumpy, and it¡¯s going to ruin the fun.¡± ¡°This is Camila,¡± Maddy says, ignoring Lara. ¡°She¡¯s the one that keeps killing our dealers in Roxbury.¡± Caterina¡¯s entire body goes rigid. Her crimson eyes narrow to dangerous slits as she turns to face Maddy. ¡°You brought me in for street-level shit? Maddy, are you fucking serious?¡± Maddy stands her ground, though I notice her shoulders tense slightly. ¡°Boss¡­¡± ¡°Adam is all alone right now,¡± Caterina continues, cutting her off with a sharp gesture. ¡°This is embarrassing for me.¡± Her voice drops even lower, taking on that deadly calm that I¡¯ve learned precedes her most violent outbursts. ¡°I left him with his pasta to deal with some junkie street dealer?¡± ¡°You told us no torture without talking to you first,¡± Maddy replies evenly, her green eyes never leaving Caterina¡¯s face. There¡¯s no fear in her expression, just a professional insistence that borders on stubbornness. ¡°After what happened with the Moretti situation, you were very clear about that.¡± The mention of ¡°the Moretti situation¡± seems to give Caterina pause. She inhales deeply through her nose, nostrils flaring slightly as she visibly reins in her temper. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± she says after a moment, smoothing her already immaculate white suit with practiced hands. She turns her attention to the woman in the chair, her gaze clinical and detached, like a scientist observing a particularly disappointing specimen. ¡°Which cartel do you work for?¡± The bound woman, Camila, jerks her head up, her one good eye-widening. ¡°I don¡¯t work for the cartel,¡± she says, her voice hoarse but defiant. Despite her brave front, I can see the terror in her expression. Her hands tremble against the zip ties that bind her wrists to the chair arms, and a small puddle has formed beneath her chair that I realize with a sick feeling is urine. ¡®The poor girl pissed herself.¡¯ Caterina sighs, the sound heavy with impatience. ¡°I don¡¯t have the patience for this,¡± she says, her tone flat and disinterested. She gives a small nod toward Lara. Maddy walks up behind Camila and puts a rag in her mouth. Lara¡¯s smile widens, and without missing a beat, she slams the cleaver down on Camila¡¯s wrist. The blade slices through flesh and bone with a sickening crunch, severing her left hand clean off. Camila lets out a muffled scream into Maddy¡¯s hand, her body convulsing against the restraints as blood gushes from the stump of her arm. The hand drops to the plastic sheet with a wet, meaty thud as blood spurts from the ragged stump where it used to be attached. The severed appendage lies palm-up, its fingers curling slightly inward like a grotesque flower closing for the night. Blood pools beneath it, spreading outward in an ever-widening crimson lake, soaking into the plastic with hypnotic ripples. The metallic smell hits me first, copper and something else uniquely horrifying, followed by the wet, raw-meat scent of exposed flesh. I can see white bone fragments gleaming amid the red mess, jagged where the cleaver didn¡¯t make a clean cut through the joint. My stomach heaves violently, acid rushing up my throat before I can even think to stop it. The spaghetti and meatballs that tasted so heavenly moments ago erupt from my mouth in a chunky, red torrent that spatters across the hallway floor. The sound is unmistakable, guttural retching that echoes off the walls like a dinner bell announcing my presence. I double over, gripping my knees as another wave hits me, bringing up more partially digested pasta and wine. It splashes onto my pristine white shoes, ruining them instantly with flecks of red sauce and bile that look disturbingly like the blood pooling around Camila¡¯s severed hand. The door flies open with such force it slams against the wall. Caterina stands in the doorway, her crimson eyes wide with shock that quickly morphs into something between rage and concern. ¡°Adam?¡± Her voice cuts through the room like a whip. ¡°What the fuck are you doing here?¡± I try to respond, but all that comes out is another heave, this one mostly dry but no less violent. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, smearing vomit across my face in the process. ¡°I... bathroom...¡± I manage to gasp between spasms, pointing weakly toward the restroom door I never reached. Lara¡¯s head snaps up at the sound of my retching, her wild expression instantly transforming. The manic glee in her eyes dims, replaced by something almost like embarrassment. She quickly steps forward, positioning herself in front of Camila in a clumsy attempt to block my view of the severed hand. ¡°Uhhhh, shit!¡± she exclaims, her voice shifting from the childlike excitement of moments ago to something more measured, almost normal. She awkwardly spreads her arms wider as if making herself bigger might somehow erase the horror scene behind her. The cleaver dangles from her right hand, blood dripping from its edge onto the plastic sheeting with soft, rhythmic pats. The effort is absurdly futile, like trying to hide an elephant behind a lamppost. Through the gaps between her outstretched arms, I can still see Camila writhing in agony, her stump pumping dark arterial blood that splashes against the plastic in sickeningly regular pulses. ¡°Don¡¯t look, Adam!¡± Lara calls out, her voice carrying a strange note of protectiveness that seems wildly out of place coming from someone who just hacked off a woman¡¯s hand. ¡°This isn¡¯t for your eyes!¡± Behind her, Maddy is struggling with Camila, who¡¯s bucking violently against her restraints despite the shock that should be setting in. The cloth Maddy had shoved in her mouth has partially worked its way out with her screaming, and Maddy is trying to force it back in, her expression grim but professional, like a nurse performing an unpleasant but necessary procedure. ¡°Hold still,¡± Maddy mutters. ¡°You¡¯ll just make it worse.¡± Camila¡¯s eyes roll wildly, the whites showing all around as pain and terror overwhelm her. My stomach heaves again, but there¡¯s nothing left to bring up. I spit a string of bile onto the floor, my legs trembling so badly I¡¯m not sure how I¡¯m still standing. Caterina moves to my side with surprising speed, her arm wrapping around my waist to support me. Despite everything, the violence, the blood, the horror, her white suit remains immaculate, not a single drop of red marring its pristine surface. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to see this, honey,¡± Caterina whispers, her voice suddenly gentle as she pulls me against her. ¡°I... didn¡¯t want this part of my life to touch you. At least not this soon.¡± The room spins around me, walls bleeding into each other as panic sets in. ¡°Fuck,¡± Caterina sighs, her voice heavy with resignation. She releases her grip on my waist, the sudden absence of her support making me sway dangerously. ¡°Lara, trade with Maddy. Maddy, get Adam home. I¡¯ll meet you there when I finish here.¡± Lara¡¯s face falls like a disappointed child told she can¡¯t have dessert. ¡°But I was just getting started,¡± she whines, the cleaver still dangling from her hand, blood dripping from its edge in hypnotic patterns against the plastic sheeting. ¡°Now, Lara,¡± Caterina snaps, her tone brooking no argument. Lara huffs but complies, moving away from Camila with reluctant steps as she puts the cleaver down. When Caterina turns back to Camila, her expression transforms so completely it¡¯s like watching a mask slide into place. Gone is any trace of the woman who just held me with such care. Her eyes narrow, hardening into crimson stones that burn with cold fury. ¡°You¡¯ll talk,¡± she says to Camila, her voice dropping to that dangerous whisper that makes my skin crawl. ¡°They all do, eventually.¡± She turns back to me, the mask falling away as quickly as it appeared. Her hand reaches up to cup my face, thumb gently stroking my cheek, careful to avoid the remnants of vomit at the corner of my mouth. ¡°Just wait for me at home, okay?¡± she says softly, her crimson eyes searching mine. ¡°I won¡¯t be long.¡± I nod mechanically, unable to form words as my brain struggles to process the horror show I¡¯ve just witnessed. My lips move of their own accord, forming a silent ¡°yes¡± that seems to satisfy her. Maddy appears at my side, her tall frame replacing Caterina¡¯s as my support. Her grip is firm but gentle as she guides me away from the door, away from the pooling blood and the woman whose screams are now muffled by Lara¡¯s gag. ¡°Come on,¡± Maddy murmurs, her voice low and steady. ¡°Let¡¯s get you out of here.¡± Lara Chapter 21: Fine I¡¯m having a panic attack. My heart hammers against my ribcage like it¡¯s trying to break free, each thunderous beat reverberating through my entire body. The pristine white comforter beneath me feels too soft, too clean, too perfect, a stark contrast to the horror show replaying on endless loop behind my eyelids every time I blink. Severed hand. Blood pooling. Bone fragments gleaming white amid red carnage. ¡®I cannot stay here.¡¯ I clutch a pillow to my chest, hugging it so tightly my arms ache as if this feather-stuffed square might somehow shield me from the violence I¡¯ve witnessed. I¡¯m sitting up in the massive king bed of Caterina¡¯s¡­ Our penthouse, my back pressed against the headboard, knees drawn up in a pathetic attempt to make myself smaller. ¡®I gotta get the fuck out of here.¡¯ My breath comes in short, painful gasps that don¡¯t seem to deliver any oxygen to my screaming lungs. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, expanding and contracting with each labored inhale. Maddy sits awkwardly in a plush armchair in the corner of the bedroom, her long legs crossed at the ankle, hands folded neatly in her lap. She looks completely out of place. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry you saw that, Adam,¡± she says, breaking the silence that¡¯s stretched between us since we arrived at the penthouse forty minutes ago. Her voice is quiet, carrying a note of genuine regret that surprises me. My laugh comes out as a strangled, hysterical sound that bears no resemblance to actual mirth. ¡°Sorry, I saw it? What about sorry it happened at all?¡± Maddy shifts in her seat, uncomfortable with my question. Her green eyes meet mine briefly before darting away, finding sudden interest in the abstract painting hanging on the far wall. ¡°They weren¡¯t going to kill her, though,¡± she offers after a moment as if this somehow makes everything better. I stare at her, my jaw dropping slightly at the absurdity of her statement. ¡°Really?¡± The word comes out sharper than I intended, dripping with disbelief. Maddy shifts again, her usual confidence faltering under my incredulous gaze. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she finally admits, her shoulders slumping slightly. ¡°This life... it¡¯s complicated. Sometimes things happen that aren¡¯t... ideal.¡± ¡°Not ideal?¡± I repeat, my voice rising with hysterical disbelief. ¡°She cut off a woman¡¯s hand! With a meat cleaver!¡± Maddy winces at my description, but before she can formulate a response, the distant sound of the elevator doors opening catches our attention. The mechanical whirr followed by a soft ding feels bizarrely mundane after everything that¡¯s happened. Quick, frantic footsteps follow. The bedroom door flies open, revealing Caterina, slightly out of breath, her golden hair falling loose from its usual perfect arrangement. Her crimson eyes immediately find me, widening with concern as she takes in my huddled form. ¡°Maddy, out,¡± she commands, her eyes never leaving my face. Maddy rises immediately, heading for the door without a word of protest. She pauses briefly in the doorway, throwing me one last apologetic glance before disappearing from sight. Caterina approaches the bed slowly, her movements measured as if approaching a frightened animal. Without a word, she reaches down and lifts me from the bed with surprising ease, one arm supporting my back, the other under my knees. ¡°Wait, wait, what?¡± I sputter as she carries me toward the en-suite bathroom, my arms dropping the pillow. She carries me into the bathroom, cradling me against her chest like I weigh nothing. The massive en-suite bathroom gleams with marble and chrome under soft recessed lighting, dominated by a sunken tub large enough to qualify as a small pool. ¡°We¡¯re taking a bath,¡± she announces, her voice gentle but leaving no room for argument. ¡°I¡¯m having a panic attack,¡± I gasp, my chest still tight. ¡°I thought you might be,¡± she says, setting me down carefully on the edge of the tub. Her crimson eyes study my face with an intensity that feels almost clinical. ¡°Let me take care of you then, Adam.¡± She turns on the faucet for the bath and then looks back to me. She reaches for the buttons of my ruined white suit jacket, her fingers working with practiced efficiency. I sit there, passive and trembling, as she methodically undresses me like a child. ¡°Just breathe with me,¡± she says while sliding the jacket from my shoulders. ¡°In through your nose, out through your mouth.¡± I try to follow her instructions, but my mind keeps circling back to that room, to Camila¡¯s severed hand, to the blood pooling on plastic sheeting. What other methods did they use to make her talk? Did they take more pieces? Did they¡­ ¡°Stop,¡± Caterina says firmly, her hands pausing on the buttons of my shirt. ¡°I can see you spiraling. Come back to me.¡± Her fingers resume their work, slipping each button free with careful precision. The shirt joins the jacket on the floor, followed by my undershirt. The cool air of the bathroom raises goosebumps across my bare chest. ¡°Focus on right now,¡± she says, unbuckling my belt with a metallic clink that seems obscenely loud in the quiet bathroom. ¡°Just this moment. You and me.¡± She tugs my pants down, guiding me to lift first one foot, then the other. My socks follow, peeled away with surprising tenderness. Finally, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down. I sit naked and vulnerable on the edge of the massive tub, shivering despite the bathroom¡¯s warmth. Caterina stands, her crimson eyes never leaving mine as she begins to undress herself. ¡®I have to get the fuck out of here. That was normal for her. She isn¡¯t even the slightest upset about this. I¡¯m just a normal guy.¡¯ She unbuttons her white suit jacket with practiced efficiency, shrugging it off her shoulders before folding it carefully and placing it on the marble counter. Caterina loosens her tie with one fluid motion, sliding the silken material from around her neck and draping it beside her jacket. Her fingers move to the buttons of her crisp white shirt, unfastening them one by one with deliberate slowness. The fabric parts to reveal smooth, pale skin underneath. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She peels the shirt away, adding it to the growing pile of fabric on the counter. Her body is all elegant lines and subtle curves, powerful yet sexy. The black bra she wears is simple and functional, no lace or frills, just clean lines against her skin. Her trousers come next, sliding down long legs to pool at her feet. She steps out of them gracefully, bending to retrieve them before folding them with the same careful precision as her jacket. Her matching black underwear is equally simple, equally practical. With a single motion, she reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, letting it fall away to reveal breasts that would normally capture my complete attention. She slips her underwear off, stepping out of them with the casual confidence of someone completely comfortable in their own skin. She stands before me, fully naked. Golden hair cascades over her shoulders. Her skin is flawless, unmarked by the violence that her hands have inflicted. But even her perfect body isn¡¯t able to take me out of my panicked stupor. My eyes see her, but my mind is elsewhere, still trapped in that room with its plastic sheeting and pooling blood. ¡®I should run away right now.¡¯ My body doesn¡¯t move. Caterina leans over to test the water, dipping her fingers into the rising steam. She nods to herself, apparently satisfied with the temperature. She steps into the massive tub, lowering herself into the water with a soft sigh. She arranges herself along the length of the bath, her body partially submerged in the rising water. She reaches her hand to me, palm up in silent invitation. ¡°Please come in, Adam,¡± she says, her voice gentle but firm, an anchor in the storm of my thoughts. I nod, feeling lost. My body moves on autopilot, one leg and then the other stepping into the warm water. I sink down, allowing Caterina to guide me until I¡¯m sitting between her legs, my back against her chest. Her arms wrap around me, holding me securely as the water continues to rise around us. The warmth of the water seeps into my skin, but it doesn¡¯t reach the frozen core of terror lodged in my chest. Caterina¡¯s body is pressed against mine, her breasts soft against my back, her legs cradling mine in the rising water. The bathroom is silent except for our breathing and the gentle lapping of water against porcelain. Her arms tighten around me, pulling me closer until there¡¯s no space left between us. I can feel her heartbeat against my spine, steady and strong, while mine continues its frantic pace. ¡°It¡¯s okay to cry,¡± she whispers, her breath warm against my ear. Her fingers trace idle patterns across my chest, gentle circles that somehow manage to avoid feeling sexual despite our naked bodies pressed together. ¡°Let it out, Adam.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need to cry,¡± I respond automatically, my voice sounding hollow. My body feels disconnected from me, like I¡¯m piloting it remotely from somewhere far away. She doesn¡¯t argue, doesn¡¯t push. Instead, her hand moves up to stroke my hair, fingers threading through the damp strands with hypnotic regularity. ¡°Then just melt into me, baby,¡± she murmurs, her voice a velvet caress. ¡°Just close your eyes and imagine us becoming one. Let my strength become yours.¡± Her body feels like an anchor holding me to reality when everything else is spinning out of control. ¡°I can¡¯t stop seeing it,¡± I whisper, the words escaping before I can trap them behind my teeth. ¡°That hand, just... falling. The blood. Her screams.¡± Caterina¡¯s body stiffens slightly against mine, but her voice remains gentle when she speaks. ¡°I know,¡± she says simply. ¡°The first time is always the hardest.¡± The casual way she says it, like witnessing dismemberment is just another life milestone, like getting your driver¡¯s license or beating your first Fromsoftware game, sends a fresh wave of panic through me. ¡°The first time?¡± I repeat, my voice cracking. ¡°You think there¡¯s going to be more times?¡± She shushes me gently as she starts to kiss my nape. Her mouth travels lower, finding the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. The gentle press of her lips sends an involuntary shiver through me despite my distress. She works her way along the curve of my neck, each kiss deliberate and slow. ¡°Cat,¡± I say, my voice wavering as I struggle to maintain my focus through the pleasant sensation of her mouth on my skin, ¡°I¡¯m not confident I¡¯m cut out to handle this kind of life.¡± ¡®She¡¯ ¡¯s not going let me go after the four months, I just know it.¡¯ Her kisses pause momentarily. I feel her smile against my skin before she continues her gentle assault, teeth grazing lightly over my body. ¡°You¡¯re strong, Adam,¡± she whispers between kisses, her breath hot against my damp skin. ¡°Stronger than you know.¡± I shake my head, water droplets flying from my hair. ¡°I¡¯m just a Costco guy,¡± I insist, the words spilling out in desperate confession. ¡°I know Rizzler lore. This isn¡¯t me.¡± Her movements still completely. I feel her body shift behind me as she leans around to look at my face, her crimson eyes narrowed in confusion. ¡°What¡¯s a Rizzler?¡± she asks, her head tilted slightly to one side. ¡®Not even the Rizzler is safe from this godless world.¡¯ I sigh deeply, the sound echoing against the marble walls of the bathroom. A strange disappointment washes over me, somehow cutting through the panic that¡¯s been gripping me since the restaurant. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me the Rizzler isn¡¯t in this world,¡± I groan, staring up at the ceiling in exaggerated despair. ¡°How am I supposed to live in a reality without the cultural icon that is the Rizzler?¡± Caterina¡¯s brow furrows further, genuine confusion evident in her expression. She opens her mouth as if to question me further, then seems to think better of it. Instead, she shushes me again. ¡°Just focus on right now, Adam,¡± she murmurs, repositioning herself behind me. Her voice drops lower, taking on that husky quality that bypasses all my rational thought processes and goes straight to my more primal instincts. ¡°Nothing exists outside this room. Just you and me.¡± ¡®I need to leave her.¡¯ ¡®Even if she can make me feel safe. This is not a way to live.¡¯ She returns her attention to my neck, her lips finding that spot just below my ear that makes my toes curl. The gentle suction as she works the sensitive skin sends waves of pleasure cascading down my spine, momentarily, but the horror in my gut remains. ¡®I just need to come up with a plan.¡¯ A/N I''m up to chapter 32 on discord. Only join if your cool af though. (No squares!) .gg/bQ4GzeBXV8 Chapter 22: Plans Within Plans I¡¯m already awake when the first rays of morning sunlight filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the penthouse in golden hues. My left eye finally on the verge of being normal, the bruise now a faded yellowish-purple smudge. She¡¯s sitting across from me at the breakfast bar, already dressed in one of her immaculate white suits, golden hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that emphasizes the sharp angles of her face. Her crimson eyes haven¡¯t left me since we sat down, watching me with an intensity that makes the simple act of eating cereal feel like a performance. I focus on the bowl in front of me, methodically spooning colorful loops into my mouth. The sweet, artificial taste is comforting in its familiarity, a small island of normalcy in the ocean of insanity my life has become. The milk turns pastel as the dye bleeds from the cereal, creating a rainbow swirl that I find myself staring at for too long. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay to be alone today?¡± Caterina asks, breaking the silence that¡¯s stretched between us all morning. Her voice is gentle, concerned, so at odds with the woman who calmly watched a hand being severed less than twenty-four hours ago. ¡°How about you come with me to the casino? I can set you up in an office near mine, and you can just watch your little Elden Souls YouTube videos.¡± ¡®She¡¯s trying, and if she wasn¡¯t a monster, that¡¯d be cute.¡¯ I look up from my cereal, meeting her worried gaze with what I hope passes for a reassuring smile. My stomach churns with something that has nothing to do with the sugary breakfast and everything to do with the plan half-forming in my mind. ¡°No, no, I feel a lot better,¡± I lie, the words coming out smoother than I expected. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for worrying you.¡± ¡®I need to be alone today if I¡¯m going to figure out how to escape.¡¯ Caterina studies my face, those unsettling crimson eyes searching for any sign of deception. I maintain my smile, willing my expression to remain open and honest despite the frantic pace of my thoughts. ¡°You¡¯re not still upset about what happened at the restaurant?¡± she presses, reaching across the granite countertop to place her hand over mine. Her touch is warm, her skin soft despite the violence those hands are capable of inflicting. I shake my head, forcing a small laugh that sounds hollow even to my own ears. ¡°I mean, it was intense,¡± I admit, figuring a partial truth will be more convincing than a complete lie. ¡°But I understand that¡¯s part of your business.¡± ¡®Part of your business that I want absolutely no part in.¡¯ Her expression shifts subtly, a flicker of something like relief passing across her features. The tension in her shoulders eases slightly, though not entirely. ¡°Alright, honey,¡± she says finally, but there¡¯s a hesitancy in her voice that wasn¡¯t there before. Her crimson eyes keep searching my face as if trying to read something written in invisible ink beneath my skin. ¡°If you need me, just call or text, okay? I¡¯ve got meetings until noon, but I can cancel them if you need me to come back.¡± The concern in her voice would be touching if it weren¡¯t coming from someone I assume is complicit in the murders of dozens, if not more, people. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I assure her, reaching across to squeeze her hand in what I hope passes for affection rather than desperation. ¡°Really. I might explore the penthouse a bit more. Check out all those books in your office. Maybe watch some TV.¡± She brightens at this, seemingly reassured by the mundanity of my planned activities. ¡°There¡¯s food in the fridge,¡± she says, rising from her seat and smoothing down her already perfect suit. ¡°The chef left several meals that just need to be heated.¡± I stand too, following her as she gathers her things, a sleek leather briefcase, her phone, the small handgun she tucks into an inside pocket of her jacket with the casual ease of someone picking up their keys. The normalcy with which she arms herself makes my stomach twist. ¡°I¡¯ll walk you to the elevator,¡± I offer, placing my half-empty cereal bowl in the sink. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. We move together through the penthouse, our footsteps silent on the plush carpet. At the elevator, she turns to face me, reaching up to straighten the collar of my t-shirt with gentle fingers. Her touch lingers, trailing down to rest over my heart. I wonder if she can feel it racing beneath her palm, betraying the calm exterior I¡¯m fighting to maintain. ¡°Have a good day at work,¡± I say, the normality of the phrase almost making me laugh. As if she¡¯s heading to a regular office job instead of whatever violent business awaits her. She goes in for a kiss, her body leaning into mine with practiced ease. Despite my churning thoughts about escape, I can¡¯t help myself. I make the first move with my tongue, deepening the kiss before she can. My body betrays my mind, responding to her with an eagerness that disgusts and thrills me in equal measure. She tastes like coffee and cinnamon, her tongue dancing with mine in that perfect rhythm she¡¯s mastered. Her hands cup my face, holding me in place as if afraid I might pull away. My fingers find her waist, pulling her closer despite everything I know, everything I¡¯ve seen. ¡®God, she¡¯s the best kisser I¡¯ve ever met,¡¯ I think, hating myself for the thought even as it forms. The kiss lingers, stretches, becomes something more intense than a simple goodbye. Her breathing quickens against my lips, and I feel that familiar heat building between us, threatening to derail my entire morning, my entire plan. When she finally pulls away, her crimson eyes are dark with desire. For a moment, she looks as though she might just skip her meetings, but through sheer force of will, she gets back to her normal self. ¡°I love you,¡± she says, the words tumbling from her lips with an overwhelming amount of conviction. I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. ¡°Thank you,¡± I respond, the same answer I always give when she says those three words. Disappointment fills her eyes yet again. I¡¯ve yet to say it back. Those three simple words she seems to crave more than anything. Each time she tells me she loves me, I respond with ¡°thank you,¡± as if she¡¯s just complimented my shirt or held a door open for me. The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime. Caterina steps inside, her eyes never leaving mine as the doors begin to close between us. The last thing I see is her smile, a little sad around the edges, as the metal panels slide shut, leaving me alone in the penthouse. I clap my hands together. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s get down to business¡­¡± ¡®Don¡¯t do it, Adam.¡¯ ¡°¡­.¡± I groan inside, trying desperately to hold myself back. I start singing despite my efforts not to. ¡°TO DEFEAT THE HUNS!¡± ***** I lay on my stomach, stretching out across the massive king-sized bed with my feet kicked up behind me, ankles crossed in the air. The laptop screen glows softly in front of me as the credits roll on Mulan, listing names I don¡¯t recognize from this world. The familiar music plays, but everything¡¯s just slightly off. ¡°Fuck,¡± I mutter, shaking my head as I watch the last of the credits disappear. ¡°The songs still slap, though.¡± In this world, Mulan is the story of a young man disguising himself as a woman to join the emperor¡¯s army, defying the expectations placed on men to stay home and care for their families. It¡¯s weird, but the core message still works somehow. I glance at my phone and groan, letting my head fall dramatically onto the plush comforter. ¡°Ahh fuck, I wasted an hour and a half.¡± I¡¯ve been alone in the penthouse for nearly two hours, and what have I accomplished? Absolutely nothing beyond watching a gender-swapped Disney movie and eating three bowls of cereal. ¡°Focus, Adam,¡± I mutter to myself, sitting up and closing the laptop with more force than necessary. ¡°You need a plan.¡± I flop back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as my mind races through possibilities. The clock¡¯s ticking. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s think,¡± I say aloud, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the empty penthouse. ¡°I could grab one of those passports and maybe, I don¡¯t know, 250 thousand dollars and get on a plane to literally anywhere, right?¡± The idea forms in my mind, crystallizing with each passing moment. A foreign country. A new identity. A life where no one cuts off hands during dinner. ¡°This is a genius plan,¡± I congratulate myself. Then reality crashes in. ¡°FUCK!¡± I scream, the word echoing off the minimalist walls. ¡°You can¡¯t just take a backpack full of cash onto a plane!¡± I pace across the plush carpet, running my hands through my hair. Even if I could somehow explain a quarter-million in cash to airport security, Caterina probably has contacts at every major transportation hub in the city. Her reach probably extends to private airfields, too. My eyes catch the subway from a distance in the window. The Orange Line runs not far from here. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± I mutter, approaching the window. ¡°I¡¯ll take the subway to the commuter rail [A/N: Massachusetts train] and then take that to...¡± I google a map of routes for the commuter rail. I think about possible routes with my finger, weighing options. ¡°Well, fuck the South Shore, so not that,¡± I mumble, shaking my head.¡±And western Mass is disgusting.¡± I tap my finger on the map, following the commuter rail line north. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll take it to Beverly and then try to buy a car in cash off a stranger. Stay in a Hotel for a night or two.¡± I nod to myself, a small smile forming. ¡°Fucking smart, Adam. Wicked fucking smart dude.¡± The plan starts taking shape in my mind. Get to Beverly, find someone selling a car, pay cash, drive... where? Canada, maybe? It¡¯s close enough that I could make it in a day if I push it. ¡°If not I could just hide out in New Hampshire for like a year?¡± I whisper to myself in thought. I start mentally cataloging what I¡¯d need to bring. Clothes, toiletries, the passport. I continue my pacing, the plan solidifying with each step. It¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯s something. A direction. An escape route. I¡¯d need to time everything perfectly, wait for Caterina to leave tomorrow morning, then¡­ My eyes catch on the laptop, still sitting on the rumpled comforter. The black screen reflects my harried expression back at me, and suddenly, the weight of everything crashes down on my shoulders. I pull the computer onto my lap, fingers flying across the keyboard as I search for Mulan 2. The sequel wasn¡¯t exactly a masterpiece in my world, but right now, I¡¯d give anything for the mind-numbing comfort of mediocre animation and forgettable songs. The search results pop up, and I click on the streaming link without hesitation. As the movie begins to load, I sink deeper into the pillows, arranging them in a nest around me like a comfort fort. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll follow through on this tomorrow the second she leaves,¡± I promise myself, hitting play. The familiar Disney castle appears on screen, though in this world, it¡¯s topped with a feminine spire that looks vaguely phallic in a way that makes me snort with inappropriate laughter. I smile, letting the movie wash over me. For just a little while, I can pretend I¡¯m back in my old apartment, watching Disney movies on a lazy Sunday with Connor. ¡°God, I feel so alone,¡± I admit out loud, desperate not to cry. Chapter 23: Boston Garden My heart pounds like a jackhammer against my ribs as I race across the bedroom, socked feet sliding on the polished hardwood. The moment the elevator doors closed behind Caterina, I was in motion, counting down the seconds in my head. Sixty seconds to make sure she¡¯s really gone. Another thirty to gather my courage. Now it¡¯s time to act. I reach the painting, and my fingers tremble as I grab the ornate frame. The hinges move silently as I swing it outward, revealing the sleek electronic keypad embedded in the wall. The small screen glows with a soft blue light, waiting for input. ¡°2 3 2 6,¡± I mutter under my breath as I punch in each number, my index finger hovering momentarily before committing to each press. The pad beeps softly with each digit. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I hold my breath as I enter the final number, half-expecting alarms to blare or for Caterina to somehow materialize behind me, those crimson eyes narrowed in betrayal. But there¡¯s only a soft electronic chime, followed by the heavy sound of locks disengaging. The hidden door slides open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing the secret room beyond. I step inside, my sock-clad feet silent on the concrete floor. ¡°Today¡¯s the day,¡± I whisper to myself, the words hanging in the climate-controlled air of the safe room. ¡°The first day of the rest of my life.¡± The arsenal of weapons gleams under the recessed lighting, sleek and deadly. Handguns and rifles. I ignore them all for now, moving instead toward the safe where the cash is stored. The safe door stands partially open, just as Caterina left it during her demonstration. Inside, neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills fill the shelves, more money than I¡¯ve ever seen in my life. Five hundred thousand dollars, she¡¯d said. Enough to disappear. I reach for the duffel bag sitting on a nearby shelf, unzipping it with shaking hands. The sound seems impossibly loud in the quiet room. I start grabbing bundles of cash, stuffing them into the bag without counting. Twenty bundles, thirty, forty¡­. ¡®I¡¯m just gonna take half. I think putting up her with her this long is worth that. Plus, she can keep the Birkin. She probably has a tracker in it anyway.¡¯ My eyes drift to the cabinet of passports, glass gleaming under the lights. I set the money bag down and move to the cabinet, pulling it open with careful movements. Inside, just as Caterina described, are a handful of passports, German, Canadian, Brazilian, and Swiss. I flip through them one by one, finding my photo staring back at me from each, though the names vary. Adam Schumacher. Adam Taylor. Adam Senna. Adam Mueller. ¡°Jesus, she really did plan for everything,¡± I mutter, selecting the Canadian passport and slipping it into my pocket. I sigh as I walk past the arsenal of weapons, my feet dragging slightly. Sleek black handguns arranged by size. Rifles mounted on custom racks. I frown, stopping in front of a glass-fronted cabinet containing several handguns. ¡°I hate this,¡± I mutter, my voice sounding foreign in the sterile air of the safe room. ¡°But I don¡¯t know what¡¯s out there or who¡¯s out there.¡± My hand hovers uncertainly over the selection. I¡¯ve never owned a gun, never wanted one. The most dangerous thing I¡¯ve ever handled was a particularly sharp kitchen knife. I select what looks like the simplest handgun, a matte black pistol that seems less intimidating than the others. It¡¯s surprisingly heavy in my palm, the weight of it making my stomach clench with anxiety. ¡°Safety, safety,¡± I whisper, examining the weapon with cautious fingers. ¡°This thing has to have a safety.¡± I locate what I think is the safety switch and carefully make sure it¡¯s in place, praying I¡¯ve got it right. The last thing I need is to shoot myself in the foot while trying to escape. Once I¡¯m reasonably confident the gun won¡¯t go off accidentally, I wrap it in a small towel from a nearby shelf and tuck it deep into the duffel bag, burying it beneath the stacks of cash. The weight of it settles at the bottom like a stone, a deadly secret beneath my newfound wealth. ¡°I feel like a really bad guy,¡± I say to the empty room, guilt washing over me in waves. Not just for taking the gun but for everything, the money, the passport, the betrayal implicit in my actions. For a brief, wavering moment, I consider putting everything back. Returning everything to it¡¯s proper places and pretending this moment of rebellion never happened. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe I should just stay. Maybe I could learn to live with the violence, the danger, the unpredictability of life with Caterina. But then the image flashes in my mind again: a hand severed at the wrist, falling with a wet thud onto plastic sheeting. Blood pooling in an ever-widening circle. A woman¡¯s muffled screams as Lara stands over her with a cleaver, wild eyes alight with manic glee. ¡°Fuck that,¡± I breathe, my resolve hardening. ¡°No way.¡± I zip the duffel bag closed with a decisive motion, slinging it over my shoulder. The weight of it is substantial, but manageable, the physical manifestation of my stolen freedom. I head for the door, the duffel bag heavy against my side, a constant reminder of what I¡¯m doing. My heart is thundering so loud I¡¯m certain the doorman will hear it when I pass. I grab my jacket off the coat rack by the elevator, a sleek navy blazer Caterina bought me last week. ¡®It¡¯s actually a really nice blazer.¡¯ I sigh as it sets in I have to kiss my lavish life goodbye. I snatch a pair of designer sunglasses from the side table, sliding them onto my nose to hide my fading black eye. The world dims to a comfortable shade. ¡®Is this what Travis meant by Sicko mode?¡¯ Before I leave I double check to make sure I don¡¯t have my phone on me. Where I¡¯m going I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll just use it to track me. The elevator ride to the lobby stretches into eternity. Each floor ticks by with agonizing slowness while my mind races through all the ways this could go wrong. Caterina could come home early. One of her people could be watching the building. The doorman could be instructed to report my movements. The doors finally slide open with a cheerful ding that feels mockingly bright, given my current state of mind. I step out, trying to project casual confidence as I cross the marble expanse of the lobby. The door woman nods politely in my direction, and I return the gesture, fighting the urge to duck my head or run. Halfway to the revolving doors, a horrible realization hits me, I don¡¯t have a hat. My head could be distinctive, I¡¯m not sure. Security cameras will pick me up instantly. Caterina probably has people monitoring the feeds. ¡°Fuck,¡± I mutter under my breath. ¡°Should I go back up?¡± The thought of returning to the penthouse makes my stomach clench. If I go back now, I might lose my nerve entirely. But without something to cover my head, I¡¯m practically announcing my escape attempt to anyone looking. My eyes scan the lobby desperately, seeking anything that might serve as a disguise. The pristine space offers little a few tasteful arrangements of flowers, some modernist furniture, a bench where visitors can wait. And there, on that bench, abandoned and forgotten, sits a baseball cap. Bright blue, facing away from me, so I can¡¯t see the logo. There¡¯s no one around, no obvious owner waiting to reclaim it. I don¡¯t hesitate. Don¡¯t think. Don¡¯t consider that this might be the most obvious petty theft ever committed in this high-end building. I simply veer toward the bench, snatch the cap without breaking stride, and continue toward the exit as if this was my plan all along. ¡°What a lucky day for me,¡± I say under my breath, shoving the cap onto my head without even checking what team it represents. ¡®I hope it¡¯s not the fucking chargers.¡¯ [A/N: Bolt up.] [A/N: I am not a Chargers fan.] ***** I climb up the stairs out of the dingey orange line station into Boston. The sunlight hits my face like a physical force after the dim fluorescence of the subway, making me squint behind my designer sunglasses. Around me, the city pulses with midday energy, businesswomen in sharp suits striding purposefully, delivery drivers weaving through traffic, tourists consulting their phones with puzzled expressions. The duffel bag feels like it¡¯s getting heavier by the second, the weight of a quarter million dollars and a stolen gun pulling at my shoulder like physical manifestation of my guilt. I adjust the strap, trying to look casual like I¡¯m just another commuter heading home after a morning meeting. I can see the TD Garden a distance away, the sports center that houses North Station. Its distinctive architecture rises above the surrounding buildings, a beacon guiding me toward the next step in my escape plan. The commuter rail to Beverly leaves from there, whisking me northward to a place where, hopefully, Caterina¡¯s influence isn¡¯t quite so absolute. ¡°This is weirdly going well so far,¡± I say to myself, immediately regretting speaking aloud as a woman in a charcoal pantsuit glances in my direction. ¡®Granted every women on the subway gave me a sad look like they pitted me. I¡¯m not sure why but they never lingered long.¡¯ I check my new watch, one i picked up on the way to the subway. I¡¯ve got forty minutes until the next train to Beverly. Enough time to get to North Station, buy a ticket, and board without rushing, without looking suspicious. The thought sends a fresh wave of anxiety coursing through me. What if Caterina has already noticed I¡¯m gone? What if she¡¯s tracking me right now? What if there are people waiting at North Station, ready to intercept me before I can even buy a ticket? ¡°Stop it,¡± I mutter, forcing myself to keep walking at a normal pace when every instinct screams at me to run. ¡°You¡¯re being paranoid.¡± But am I? This is a woman who casually admitted to stalking me before we even met. Who has connections throughout the city that I can¡¯t even begin to comprehend. As I walk into North Station, life feels familiar in a way that¡¯s both comforting and jarring. The cavernous space echoes with announcements over the PA system, the clatter of luggage wheels against tile, and the constant murmur of conversations. Throuples huddle over shared phones, planning their journeys¡­ ¡®Wait, no, that¡¯s new.¡¯ And, just like in my old world, there¡¯s a cluster of homeless people hovering near the McDonald¡¯s, their possessions gathered in weathered backpacks and repurposed shopping bags. They sit with practiced stillness, invisible to the hurrying crowds, except when someone tosses spare change into a cup or deliberately gives them a wide berth. ¡°Just like how it was in my old world,¡± I mutter, the familiar scene hitting me with unexpected nostalgia. I shuffle toward the ticket counter, joining the line that moves with bureaucratic slowness. My fingers tap an anxious rhythm against my thigh as I scan the station for any sign of Caterina¡¯s people. Every woman in a suit becomes a potential threat, every glance in my direction a possible recognition. ¡®Every time I make eye contact with people they frown and look away awkwardly. What¡¯s going on?¡¯ The line inches forward. Three people ahead of me. Then two. Then, just a small group, a man flanked by two women, all engaged in animated conversation. The man gestures emphatically while the women nod, one of them laughing at whatever point he¡¯s making. Something about his profile tugs at my memory, but I can¡¯t place it. I¡¯m too focused on looking around and trying not to get fucking caught. ¡®I¡¯m so fucking close I can almost taste it.¡¯ The group finishes their transaction and starts to turn away from the counter. The man¡¯s face comes into full view as he pivots, and suddenly, time seems to slow to a crawl. Sandy, colored hair. Bright blue eyes that widen in shock as they land on me. Those eyes, I¡¯d know them anywhere. He freezes mid-step, staring at me like he¡¯s seen a ghost. His mouth opens, closes, opens again as he struggles to process what he¡¯s seeing. ¡°Adam? You¡¯re alive!?¡± he finally manages, his voice cracking on my name. His eyes fill with tears so quickly it¡¯s like someone turned on a faucet behind them. My own vision blurs instantly in response, hot tears welling up and spilling over before I can even think to stop them. ¡°Connor?¡± Chapter 24: New World, Old Friend ¡°Connor?¡± The name tumbles from my lips like a prayer, hanging in the space between us for one eternal second before everything explodes into motion. Connor launches himself at me with such force that the duffel bag slides off my shoulder, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that should worry me but doesn¡¯t, not now, not when my best friend¡¯s arms are crushing me in an embrace so tight it squeezes the air from my lungs. ¡®No homo.¡¯ ¡°Adam! Holy shit! Adam!¡± Connor¡¯s voice breaks as he clutches me, his body shaking with sobs. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it, man. Is it really you? Is it the real you?¡± People are staring now. The two women Connor was with hang back, exchanging worried glances as they watch our reunion unfold. One of them, a tall blonde with striking features, takes a protective step forward but doesn¡¯t intervene. I¡¯m crying, too, unashamed tears streaming down my face, dampening Connor¡¯s shoulder as I return his embrace with equal fervor. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s me. It¡¯s really me.¡± Connor pulls back just enough to look at my face, his hands gripping my shoulders like he¡¯s afraid I might disappear if he lets go. His blue eyes are red-rimmed and wild as they search mine, looking for confirmation that I¡¯m real, that this isn¡¯t some cruel trick. ¡°I got hit by a fucking truck on the 22nd floor at Larry¡¯s Fund,¡± I blurt out, the words rushing from me in a jumbled mess. ¡°One minute, I was with you, and the next, I was waking up in this fucked-up world where everything is backward.¡± Connor¡¯s face splits into a grin so wide it must hurt, tears still streaming unchecked down his cheeks. ¡°Bro, it really is you! Holy shit, dude, I missed you so much.¡± He pulls me into another bone-crushing hug, practically lifting me off my feet despite being several inches shorter than me. ¡°Bro, no homo, no homo.¡± I say, not wanting to accidentally become gay. ¡®Not that there¡¯s anything wrong with it.¡¯ When he finally releases me, my mind catches up to what¡¯s happening. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re here. That means you died too,¡± I say, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. ¡°You died that day?¡± Connor nods, wiping his face with the back of his hand. ¡°Yeah, the truck smashed through the building. Did you think it just stopped and ended there?¡± He lets out a short, humorless laugh. ¡°The floor got fucked in the process, and I fell to the floor below. I got impaled by some rebar or some shit and died.¡± ¡°That sounds awful,¡± I whisper, trying to imagine the pain and fear he must have felt. Connor laughs, the sound halfway between genuine amusement and lingering shock. ¡°At least I didn¡¯t get hit by a truck like some fucking loser!¡± We laugh. ¡®God, I missed Connor.¡¯ Behind Connor, the two women shift uncomfortably. The blonde one keeps looking between Connor and me with growing concern. The other, shorter with curly brown hair, studies me with an intensity that feels almost clinical, her gaze lingering on the blue baseball cap pulled low over my face. I follow their gaze, suddenly self-conscious. ¡°What? Is there something on my hat?¡± I reach up to touch the brim, wondering if I¡¯ve been walking around with some embarrassing logo this whole time. Connor turns, noticing the women¡¯s discomfort. ¡°Oh shit, sorry. Adam, these are my... um, these are April and Gabby Harper.¡± He gestures to them with an awkward wave. ¡°April, Gabby, this is Adam Anderson. My best friend from... before.¡± April, the taller blonde, steps forward with visible reluctance. Her hazel eyes run up and down me assessing me as if I¡¯m a threat. ¡°Connor,¡± she says, her voice low and tense, ¡°You finally remember something?¡± April pulls Connor close to him. Connor¡¯s expression falls slightly. ¡°I didn¡¯t remember something, April. This is Adam. My best friend I told you about.¡± April¡¯s eyes narrow, her posture stiffening as she pulls Connor closer to her side. ¡°Connor, honey,¡± she says, her voice gentle but firm, ¡°we¡¯ve talked about this. The doctors said your memories would probably come back gradually, but you need to be careful about¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m not confused,¡± Connor interrupts, a hint of frustration coloring his tone. ¡°I know exactly who I am and where I¡¯m from. And this is Adam.¡± Gabby, the shorter woman with curly brown hair, steps forward and places a calming hand on April¡¯s arm. ¡°Let¡¯s not do this here,¡± she says quietly, her eyes darting around the crowded station. ¡°People are watching.¡± She¡¯s right. Our emotional reunion has drawn curious stares from nearby travelers, some openly gawking at the spectacle we¡¯re creating. I suddenly feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that sends fresh panic coursing through me. If Caterina has people looking for me... I bend down to retrieve my fallen duffel bag, clutching it protectively against my chest. The weight of it, the money and gun inside, serves as a stark reminder of my situation. ¡°Look,¡± I say, lowering my voice, ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, but I¡¯m kind of in a hurry. I need to get on this train.¡± April¡¯s gaze drops to the duffel bag, her expression growing more suspicious. ¡°What¡¯s in the bag?¡± she asks bluntly. ¡°April!¡± Gabby hisses, looking embarrassed. I shift uncomfortably, adjusting my grip on the bag. ¡°Just Hot boy stuff.¡± Connor studies my face, his initial joy fading into concern as he takes in my nervous demeanor, the sunglasses hiding my fading black eye, the baseball cap pulled low over my forehead. His eyes drop to the duffel bag, then back to my face. ¡°Are you in trouble, man?¡± he asks quietly. Before I can answer, a monotone voice crackles over the PA system: ¡°Attention, passengers. The 2:15 train to Rockport with stops in Chelsea, Lynn, Swampscott, Salem, Beverly, Manchester, Gloucester, and Rockport is now boarding on track 7. Please have your tickets ready.¡± ¡°That¡¯s us,¡± Gabby says, sounding relieved at the interruption. She tugs gently at April¡¯s sleeve. ¡°We should go.¡± Connor looks torn, his gaze ping-ponging between me and the women who seem to have some claim on him in this world. ¡°Adam¡¯s coming with us,¡± he announces suddenly, his tone leaving no room for argument. April opens her mouth as if to protest, but Connor cuts her off. ¡°He¡¯s coming, April. We can sort everything out on the train.¡± ¡°I¡¯m on that train anyway,¡± I blurt out, clutching the duffel bag tighter. ¡°I was just about to buy a ticket.¡± Connor¡¯s face breaks into a relieved smile. ¡°That¡¯s perfect!¡± he exclaims, clapping me on the shoulder. ¡°Then we can get caught up.¡± April¡¯s eyes narrow suspiciously, darting between my face and the heavy bag in my arms. She opens her mouth as if to object, but Gabby tugs at her sleeve again, more insistently this time. ¡°We need to go if we¡¯re going to make it,¡± Gabby says, her voice gentle but firm. ¡°They¡¯re boarding now.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll wait for you by the gate,¡± Connor says, his voice thick with emotion. ¡°Don¡¯t... don¡¯t go anywhere else, okay?¡± ¡®He can tell I¡¯m bugging out. What a good friend.¡¯ I nod, swallowing against the lump forming in my throat. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± We separate, Connor being gently guided away by the Harper sisters while I approach the ticket counter. The woman behind the glass barely glances at me as I purchase a one-way ticket to Beverly. Her disinterest is a blessing. She won¡¯t remember me if anyone comes asking. ***** The train rattles and sways beneath us as we speed northward along the coast. Connor and I sit side by side in the two-person seat. Directly in front of us, April and Gabby occupy the forward-facing seats, their bodies angled awkwardly to maintain the illusion they¡¯re not attempting to eavesdrop. The duffel bag sits heavy on my lap, my arms wrapped around it protectively. I haven¡¯t let it go since boarding the train, not even when Connor offered to put it in the overhead rack. I¡¯ve been whispering to Connor non-stop for the past twenty minutes, the words pouring out of me in a desperate flood. Everything from waking up in this gender-flipped world to my first encounter with Caterina, how i got a wife, how my wife sold me, the violence, the severed hand that finally drove me to flee. It¡¯s like lancing a wound, painful but necessary, the poison of the past weeks draining out with each confession. Connor stares at me, his blue eyes wide and unblinking. He hasn¡¯t interrupted once, just letting me purge myself of these experiences like the good friend he¡¯s always been. His face has cycled through shock, horror, disbelief, and back again as my story unfolds. When I finally fall silent, exhausted by the telling, Connor leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper too. ¡°Dude, I can¡¯t believe how hard you¡¯ve had it. Jesus Christ.¡± He shakes his head, a mixture of sympathy and horror etched across his features. ¡°The mob? A cunt wife? Insane.¡± I nod, suddenly aware of the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. ¡°Yeah.¡± Connor glances toward April and Gabby, who immediately pretend to be engrossed in something on Gabby¡¯s phone. He¡¯s not fooled for a second. ¡°Look,¡± he says, turning them fully, his voice firm with resolve. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you believe me or not about how Adam and I know each other, but please let him stay a few days. He needs to be somewhere safe for a bit.¡± April¡¯s head snaps up. ¡°You look like you¡¯re in trouble with something,¡± she says, her voice cold and suspicious. ¡°Are you trying to steal Connor away from us?¡± ¡°What? No!¡± I sputter, taken aback by the accusation yet thankful to realize she clearly sucks at eavesdropping. ¡°I had no idea Connor was even here. I was just trying to¡­¡± Gabby cuts me off, her warm brown eyes suddenly hard as she glares at me. ¡°I don¡¯t care if you have autism. You¡¯re not taking Connor.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t have autism,¡± I protest, completely bewildered by this sudden turn in the conversation. Connor starts laughing, his shoulders shaking as he tries to contain himself. The sisters look at him like he¡¯s lost his mind. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± April demands, crossing her arms defensively. Connor points at my head, barely able to speak through his laughter. ¡°The hat... oh my God... the hat¡¯s not his. He just told me.¡± ¡°The hat?¡± I reach up and pull the blue baseball cap from my head, turning it around to see the front for the first time. There, in bold white letters across the crown, are the words: ¡°PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME I HAVE AUTISM.¡± ¡°Oh, fuck me,¡± I groan, staring at the cap in horror. ¡°I had no idea. I just grabbed it off a bench because I needed a disguise.¡± The realization washes over me in waves. The pitying looks on the subway. The way people avoided eye contact. The extra space they gave me in line. ¡°That explains so much,¡± I mutter, feeling heat rise to my face. ¡°Everyone on the subway was looking at me weird.¡± Gabby¡¯s expression softens slightly. ¡°You... didn¡¯t know what your own hat said?¡± ¡°I sto¡­ I found it. I was in a hurry and having a bad hair day.¡± Connor¡¯s laughter has subsided into occasional chuckles. He wipes tears from his eyes. ¡°Only you, man. Only you would accidentally take an autism awareness hat as a disguise.¡± The tension on the train is thick enough to slice with a knife as April¡¯s eyes bore into mine. ¡°What do you want with Connor?¡± April finally asks, her voice sharp as a razor¡¯s edge. I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of suspicion pressing down on me. ¡°I don¡¯t want anything,¡± I say, trying to keep my voice level despite my exhaustion. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to get in his way at all.¡± The duffel bag shifts on my lap as the train rounds a curve, and I tighten my grip instinctively. The quarter million dollars and firearm inside feel like they¡¯re broadcasting their presence with neon signs, though logically, I know they¡¯re hidden. Gabby studies my face for a long momen. ¡°Oh,¡± she says, apparently coming to some internal conclusion. She turns around in her seat and faces forward, shoulders relaxing slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t care then.¡± April looks at her sister in disbelief, then back at Connor, anxiety radiating from her in almost visible waves. ¡°Does he really need help that badly?¡± she asks Connor. Connor gives her a stern look, his usual easygoing expression hardening into something unfamiliar to me but apparently recognizable to April, whose eyes widen further. ¡°I¡¯ll go a week without fucking all three of you sisters if you even consider turning him away,¡± he says, his voice deadly serious despite how stupid the threat is. The statement hits like a thunderclap in our little section of the train. April physically recoils as if slapped, her face draining of color. Gabby turns around so fast I¡¯m surprised she doesn¡¯t give herself whiplash. ¡°Alright, alright, fine!¡± April stammers panic evident in her voice as she raises her hands in surrender. ¡°We¡¯ll help him, just don¡¯t get mad at us, okay? We¡¯re sorry!¡± Gabby¡¯s brown eyes are wide with the same panic. ¡°You can¡¯t just take that away from us!¡± she protests, her voice cracking slightly. I whisper into the void. ¡°God, I fucking hate this world.¡± Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 25: April Showers Bring June Flowers I stare out the window as the Uber pulls up the driveway, the tires crunching on gravel. The Harper residence sits before us, a Victorian-style house painted a muted sage green with crisp white trim. It¡¯s bigger than I anticipated but not a mansion by any means, just a well-maintained home with a wraparound porch and gabled windows that give it a distinctly New England character. ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± I whisper to Connor, clutching my duffel bag closer. Connor whips his head toward me, blue eyes flashing with annoyance. ¡°Shut the fuck up,¡± he hisses under his breath. ¡°You¡¯re in trouble, and what? Did you think I was gonna let you figure your shit out on your own? Dude, fuck no.¡± Connor has always been there for me. But then, I¡¯ve taken more than one bullet for him, too. ¡°Thanks,¡± I manage, the simple word inadequate for the depth of gratitude I feel. April tips the driver while Gabby exits first, her curly hair bouncing as she hops out and immediately heads for the trunk to retrieve their shopping bags. April follows, her movements tense and efficient as she scans the quiet neighborhood street like she¡¯s expecting trouble to materialize at any moment. ¡°Come on,¡± Connor murmurs, nudging me toward the door. ¡°Let¡¯s get inside before April changes her mind.¡± I slide out of the car. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the neatly maintained front yard. It looks so normal, so peaceful, the complete opposite of my life for the past few weeks. ¡°This place is nice,¡± I comment lamely as we follow the sisters up the stone path to the front door. Connor nods. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s super chill.¡± As he¡¯s talking, the front door swings open, revealing another woman who could only be another Harper sister. She¡¯s shorter than both April and Gabby, with a round face, thick-framed glasses, and short brown hair. ¡°You¡¯re back early,¡± she says, eyes widening as they land on me. ¡°And you brought company.¡± ¡°This is Adam,¡± Connor says, placing a protective hand on my shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s going to stay with us for a few days.¡± The woman¡¯s eyes flicker with surprise, darting from me to Connor and back again. There¡¯s something authoritative in her posture despite her shorter stature She adjusts her glasses, studying me with an intensity that makes me want to fidget. ¡°This is June,¡± Connor says, filling the silence. ¡°The eldest Harper sister.¡± June¡¯s warm brown eyes crinkle slightly at the corners as she takes me in, her gaze lingering on my fading black eye before dropping to the duffel bag clutched protectively against my chest. She looks at her sisters and then back to us. ¡°Well, come in,¡± she says, her voice carrying a gentle authority that somehow makes it clear she¡¯s the one in charge in this household. She steps aside, holding the door wider to admit us all. As we file past her into the foyer, she looks at Connor as though she¡¯s love-sick and hasn¡¯t seen him in years, her entire face softening in a way that transforms her features from merely pretty to genuinely beautiful. The change is so dramatic it¡¯s almost startling to witness. ¡°You girls were gone longer than I thought,¡± she says to her sisters, though her eyes never leave Connor¡¯s face. ¡°I was starting to worry.¡± The moment Connor crosses the threshold, June¡¯s restraint seems to evaporate. She reaches for him with both hands, cupping his face as she pulls him down to her level. Their lips meet in what starts as a greeting but quickly evolves into something much more intimate, a shameless tongue kiss that has me averting my eyes in embarrassment. They both seem really into it, Connor¡¯s arms wrapping around her waist. The kiss deepens, becoming something almost performative in its intensity like they¡¯re completely unaware or unconcerned with their audience. The display stirs something in me, a pang of unexpected longing that catches me off guard. It briefly makes me miss Caterina, not the violence or the fear, but the passion, the way she could make the world disappear with just her touch. I glance at the other sisters. April seems unbothered, casually setting down her shopping bags as if this is an everyday occurrence not worth noting. But Gabby watches the kiss with naked longing, her eyes darkening with desire. She looks jealous but also like she wants to join, her body unconsciously leaning toward the embracing couple as if pulled by an invisible string. ¡®What the fuck is the dynamic here?¡¯ When Connor and June finally separate, both slightly breathless, June keeps one arm wrapped possessively around his waist as she turns her attention back to me. She studies me with those warm brown eyes, a mixture of curiosity and caution evident in her expression. ¡°So, you knew Connor before he lost his memories?¡± June asks, her hand still possessively resting on Connor¡¯s waist. The question hangs in the air, deceptively simple yet loaded with implications. I shift the heavy duffel bag in my arms. ¡°That is such a complicated question,¡± I say, choosing my words carefully. Connor jumps in. ¡°Let¡¯s just say we both lost our memories on the same night,¡± he explains, his eyes meeting mine in silent communication. ¡°And Adam wasn¡¯t so lucky to meet a family like you.¡± June¡¯s expression softens, compassion replacing suspicion as she takes in my exhausted appearance. ¡°That must have been really hard,¡± she says, and the genuine sympathy in her voice catches me off guard. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. April steps forward, her tall frame imposing despite her casual posture. She¡¯s removed her light jacket, revealing a sleeveless blouse that shows off toned arms. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we dig deeper on this, sis?¡± she asks, her voice carrying a note of persistence that makes my stomach clench with anxiety. Her hazel eyes never leave my face, searching for deception, for danger. June turns to her sister, something unspoken passing between them. ¡°When does Connor ever ask for anything, April?¡± June responds, her tone gentle but firm. April nods reluctantly. ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± she concedes, though the suspicion doesn¡¯t entirely leave her eyes. Gabby scoffs from behind me, the sound unexpectedly sharp in the otherwise quiet foyer. ¡°All he ever does is ask us to do stuff,¡± she says, crossing her arms over her chest. June gives her youngest sister a look that somehow manages to be both fond and exasperated. ¡°Not that kind of stuff, Gabby,¡± she says with a pointed emphasis that makes Gabby¡¯s cheeks flush pink. An awkward silence falls over the group. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, the duffel bag growing heavier by the second. ¡°So,¡± June says finally, clapping her hands together with forced brightness, ¡°let¡¯s get you settled, Adam. We¡¯ve got a guest room that should work just fine.¡± I nod, relief washing over me at the prospect of a safe place to rest. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, the words feeling inadequate for the magnitude of what they¡¯re offering. ¡°I really appreciate this.¡± June leads the way through the house. Family photos line the hallway walls, capturing the sisters at various ages, always together, always smiling. Connor appears in the more recent ones, his arm around one sister or another, looking happier than I¡¯ve ever seen him. ¡°Kitchen¡¯s through there,¡± June says, gesturing to a spacious room with gleaming countertops and a large island. ¡°Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Dining room¡¯s adjacent. Living room you¡¯ve seen.¡± We climb a creaking staircase to the second floor, where a wide hallway branches off to several closed doors. June points them out as we pass. ¡°That¡¯s my room, that¡¯s April¡¯s, Gabby¡¯s is at the end, and Connor stays...¡± ¡°With all of you, apparently,¡± I mutter with a smile. Connor elbows me in the ribs, but June just laughs, the sound warm and genuine. ¡°Yes, well, our arrangement is... unconventional,¡± she admits, not a trace of embarrassment in her voice. ¡°But it works for us.¡± She stops at a door halfway down the hall, pushing it open to reveal a modest but comfortable-looking guest room. A double bed with a navy comforter dominates the space, flanked by two nightstands with reading lamps. A dresser stands against one wall, and a small desk occupies the corner near the window, which overlooks the backyard. ¡°Bathroom¡¯s just across the hall,¡± June says, gesturing to a door opposite. ¡°Clean towels in the linen closet next to it.¡± I step into the room, feeling the weight of the past weeks begin to lift from my shoulders. The space is simple but immaculate, freshly vacuumed carpet, dust-free surfaces, a window cracked open to let in a gentle breeze that stirs the curtains. ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, finally setting the heavy duffel bag down next to the bed. The mattress gives slightly as I sit on its edge, testing its firmness. It¡¯s clearly not as good as something Caterina can afford, but it¡¯s better than I expected to have today. ¡°This is perfect.¡± June nods, her smile warm and genuine. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to get settled then.¡± She turns to leave but pauses in the doorway, her expression becoming serious. ¡°Adam, I don¡¯t know what kind of trouble you¡¯re in, and I¡¯m not going to pry. But you¡¯re safe here, okay?¡± The simple kindness in her voice nearly undoes me. ¡°Thank you.¡± June leaves, pulling the door partially closed behind her. I hear her footsteps retreat down the hallway, followed by the soft murmur of voices too distant to make out. Connor flops down on the bed beside me, bouncing slightly on the mattress. ¡°So, you good?¡± I exhale slowly, feeling the tension drain from my body like water from a bathtub. ¡°Yeah, I think I am. For now, at least.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Connor says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°Because since it¡¯s Saturday, we usually drink and smoke after dinner. Helps everyone unwind, you know?¡± My eyes light up at this news. ¡°A few Bevs for the boys?¡± I ask, feeling a genuine smile spread across my face for the first time in what feels like forever. Connor makes an evil smirk. ¡°It¡¯ll be just like college,¡± he says, nudging my shoulder with his. I roll my eyes. ¡°Yeah, exactly like you and your college harem,¡± I say sarcastically. He laughs. ¡°Yeah, true. I guess we won¡¯t be whining about lack of pussy anymore.¡± ¡°I know. But how did you manage to land three women?¡± I ask, keeping my voice casual despite the burning curiosity. Connor looks at me with genuine confusion. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Even if this world is gender-reversed, that¡¯s like if you got three guys to date one girl back in our world. That¡¯s not normal anywhere.¡± Connor¡¯s eyebrows shoot up, his blue eyes widening with surprise. ¡°Adam, women outnumber men 3:1 in this world? Did you not research it when you noticed shit was different?¡± ¡®What the fuck? They do?¡¯ Heat rises to my face. ¡°Of course I did,¡± I lie, not wanting to admit how I spent most of my free time in this world. ¡°I just... forgot.¡± ¡°Tell me you didn¡¯t just revert back to anxiously comfort-watching Elden Ring boss fight videos again,¡± he says, giving me that familiar look of exasperated fondness. ¡°That¡¯s such a fucked up thing to accuse someone of¡­ Of course, that¡¯s not what I¡¯ve been doing.¡± Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 26: Can We Get Much Higher? ¡®I¡¯m high as fuck.¡¯ Like, properly, deeply baked in a way I haven¡¯t been since college. The weed in this world hits differently, cleaner somehow, more focused, less paranoia-inducing. Or maybe that¡¯s just the relief of finally feeling safe after weeks of constant fear. We had unseasoned chicken for dinner... and that¡¯s fine. June apologized for the bland food, explaining that they usually cook with more spices but were trying to be considerate since they didn¡¯t know my preferences. Now we¡¯re on the living room couch, and I¡¯m smoking a blunt while I have my third beer in my hand. Connor sits beside me on the massive sectional sofa, his posture more relaxed than I¡¯ve seen it since our reunion. April occupies a cuck chair across from us, legs tucked under her, sipping beer with an expression that¡¯s gradually softened from suspicion to reluctant acceptance as the evening has progressed. Gabby sprawls on the floor, her back against the couch between Connor¡¯s legs, her head occasionally tilting back to rest against his knee. June moves between the kitchen and living room, bringing snacks and drinks, her efficiency never compromised despite the joint she occasionally takes a hit from when it comes her way. ¡°Dude, do you feel like you¡¯re more of a lightweight in this world?¡± I ask Connor as I offer him the blunt. Connor takes the blunt from my outstretched hand, inhaling deeply before responding. ¡°Dude, big time,¡± he finally says, his voice strained from holding in the smoke. ¡°Three beers in my old body would¡¯ve been nothing. Now I¡¯m fucking floating.¡± April rolls her eyes so hard I¡¯m surprised they don¡¯t get stuck. ¡°Stop pretending you were from another world, both of you,¡± she says, but there¡¯s less edge to her voice than earlier. I laugh, the sound bubbling out of me with genuine mirth. ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± I say, raising my free hand in mock surrender. ¡°Just having fun.¡± ¡°You really don¡¯t have to apologize for everything,¡± June says, settling onto the couch beside Connor. Her hand finds his thigh, resting there with casual possessiveness. ¡°It¡¯s actually kind of endearing but also a little sad.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a habit,¡± I admit, taking another swig of beer. The cold liquid slides down my throat, crisp and refreshing. ¡°I think I¡¯ve been apologizing for existing since I was, like, twelve.¡± ¡°That¡¯s deep, man,¡± Gabby says from her position on the floor, her voice slightly slurred. We all dissolve into laughter at the profound wisdom of her stoned observation. The laughter feels good, cleansing somehow, washing away the lingering tension of the day. As we bask in the vibe I hear keys jingling in the lock of the front door. A moment later, a voice calls out from the entryway: ¡°Hello? Anyone home?¡± ¡°In here, Mom!¡± Gabby calls back, her face lighting up. She makes no move to get up from her comfortable position on the floor, though. Footsteps approach, and then a woman appears in the doorway to the living room. She¡¯s in her mid-fifties, with a curvaceous figure accentuated by a fitted sweater that reveals a bit of cleavage. Her hair is a rich brown, styled in a professional cut that frames a face lined with experience rather than age. Her eyes, the same warm brown as June¡¯s, look tired, reflecting the weight of a long day. She looks exhausted. ¡®All the women really are succubi aren¡¯t they?¡¯ The Harper mother¡¯s arrival shifts the energy in the room. She stands in the doorway for a moment, surveying the scene before her, her three daughters and Connor in various states of inebriation, plus me, the stranger on her couch. Her eyes immediately find me. ¡°Ah, June texted me about you. You¡¯re Adam, right?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my reddened eyes and the half-empty beer in my hand. ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± Instead of taking one of the empty chairs, Candice settles onto the couch directly beside me. Our legs touch as she sinks into the cushions, but there doesn¡¯t seem to be any sexual reason for her seat choice. It¡¯s just where there¡¯s room. The casual physical contact feels strangely normal, as if personal space is a more fluid concept in this world. ¡°I¡¯m Candice,¡± she says, slipping off her shoes with a sigh of relief that borders on indecent. She wiggles her toes in their sheer black socks. ¡°God, today has been brutal.¡± ¡®Does Connor fuck all four of these women?¡¯ I think with a little drunken hint of jealousy. ¡®I¡¯m so happy his life is basically a hentai.¡¯ Connor hands me the blunt. I take a beeg yoshi hit, feeling the smoke fill my lungs, the familiar burn that precedes the floating sensation I¡¯ve been chasing all evening. As I¡¯m about to exhale, I realize I¡¯m facing directly toward Candice, the matriarch of this strange household, and panic momentarily seizes me. I don¡¯t want to blow smoke in her face within a minute of meeting her. I swivel my head frantically, looking for somewhere to direct the growing pressure in my lungs. The only clear space is straight ahead, past Candice, toward the table. I lean forward awkwardly, turning my face away from her as I finally release the smoke in a thick, billowing cloud. Candice laughs, the sound warm and rich. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, kid. This is an easy-going house,¡± she says, waving away my concern with a casual flick of her wrist. She holds her hand out expectantly. ¡°Mind if I?¡± I hand her the blunt, surprised when she takes it without hesitation. This woman who radiates maternal authority, who clearly commands respect from her daughters, takes a hit with the practiced ease of someone who¡¯s been doing this for decades. She inhales deeply, holding the smoke for an impressive count before releasing it in a controlled stream toward the ceiling. ¡°Sometimes you need to unwind.¡± She says as she hands the blunt back to me. She leans back in her seat and stretches, arms extending above her head, her spine arching slightly against the cushions. The movement pulls her sweater taut across her chest, emphasizing the generous curve of her cleavage. I can¡¯t help but notice how attractive she is, not in the intimidating, dangerous way Caterina was, but in a warm, approachable, mommy way. I quickly take a sip of my beer as I look away, not wanting to be caught staring. The beer bottle is emptied, the last drops sliding down my throat as I tip it back. Connor leans in close, his lips nearly touching my ear as he whispers, ¡°I¡¯ve never done anything with her if you want to try.¡± His voice is so low I can barely hear him despite our proximity. ¡°She¡¯s single, you know.¡± Heat rushes to my face, the blush spreading across my cheeks like wildfire. The weed makes it impossible to hide my reaction, my face betraying every emotion as it flits across my consciousness. ¡°I¡¯m not sure tonight¡¯s the night for me,¡± I whisper back. Connor nods, accepting my answer without issue. ¡°Yeah, dude, no pressure,¡± he says, leaning back into his spot where June immediately curls against him. ¡°Just letting you know the lay of the land.¡± I put down my finished beer, the glass bottle making a dull thud as it meets the wooden coffee table. June notices immediately. ¡°Do you want another?¡± she asks, already half-rising from her spot beside Connor. ¡°I can get it,¡± I say, my words coming out slower than I intended. ¡°No, no,¡± June insists, waving me back down with a gentle but firm hand gesture. ¡°You¡¯re our guest.¡± As she disappears into the kitchen, I sink deeper into the cushions, feeling the soft fabric embrace me like a cloud. The couch seems to be swallowing me whole, and I¡¯m completely fine with it. My limbs feel heavy and weightless at the same time, a paradox my stoned brain finds endlessly fascinating. ¡°Man,¡± I murmur to no one in particular, ¡°I wish every day could be like this.¡± Candice turns to look at me, her head tilting slightly as she takes in my glazed expression. Her concern breaks through the haze of my high. ¡°You girls aren¡¯t getting him this fucked up on purpose, right?¡± she asks, her tone carrying a note of genuine worry beneath its casual exterior. April scoffs from her armchair, the sound sharp and dismissive. ¡°Like I¡¯d risk losing Connor over anything,¡± she says, her eyes darting to Connor with naked possessiveness before returning to her mother. ¡°We¡¯re not idiots.¡± ¡°Same,¡± Gabby chimes in from her place on the floor. She looks up at Connor with adoration that would be comical if it weren¡¯t so genuine. ¡°He¡¯s way too important.¡± June returns with my beer, the bottle sweating with condensation that leaves a cool trail on my fingers as she passes it to me. She settles back beside Connor, nestling into his side with practiced ease. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± she assures her mother, laughing softly as she turns to press her lips against Connor¡¯s jaw. The kiss lingers, becoming something more intimate as Connor turns to meet her mouth with his. Candice watches them for a moment, a mixture of resignation and fondness playing across her features. She turns back to me, tapping my knee lightly with her fingertips. ¡°I raised good, loyal daughters,¡± she says, her voice carrying a hint of pride despite the unusual situation. I stare at her, the weed making my thoughts stronger and more feral. My eyes begin to burn outwardly. ¡°The bugs in my skin don¡¯t know what you mean by that,¡± I say with absolute conviction, my voice deadly serious as I lock eyes with Candice. The room falls silent for a beat, everyone frozen in various positions of relaxation as my bizarre statement hangs in the air. Then Connor erupts into laughter, sputtering and coughing as June pats his back. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to him,¡± Connor wheezes between gasps for air, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. ¡°He was the self-proclaimed hentai king back in the day.¡± I¡¯m unbothered by this betrayal, merely nodding sagely as if Connor has revealed some profound truth about the universe rather than my embarrassing past obsession. April snorts, her earlier suspicion momentarily forgotten as she doubles over in her armchair. ¡°The hentai king?¡± she repeats, her laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. ¡°Like, with the tentacles and shit?¡± ¡°It was more moth girls. for me.¡± I justify. Gabby joins in, rolling onto her side on the floor, her body shaking with mirth. ¡°Oh my god, that explains so much about you,¡± she manages between giggles, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction. Candice looks between her daughters and Connor, her brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°What¡¯s hen tie?¡± she asks, pronouncing each syllable with careful deliberation, completely butchering the word. ¡°Is that some kind of food?¡± This innocent question sends the room into another round of hysterics. Connor is practically convulsing now, clutching his stomach as if in pain from the force of his laughter. June has her face buried in a throw pillow, her shoulders shaking silently. My stoned brain registers the absolute chaos I¡¯ve caused, and I can¡¯t help but join in, laughing until my sides ache. As our laughter finally begins to subside, Gabby suddenly sits up straight, her eyes wide with inspiration. ¡°Guys!¡± she exclaims, clapping her hands together with childlike excitement. ¡°Let¡¯s do shots!¡± Before anyone can respond, she¡¯s already scrambling to her feet, wobbling slightly as she finds her balance. ¡°I¡¯ll get the tequila,¡± she announces, pointing dramatically toward the kitchen like a general leading troops into battle. The sound of cabinet doors opening and closing echoes from the kitchen, followed by the distinctive clink of glass against glass. Gabby returns moments later, triumphantly bearing a bottle of tequila in one hand and a stack of shot glasses in the other. ¡°Found ¡¯em!¡± she declares, setting everything down on the coffee table with a flourish that nearly sends the glasses tumbling to the floor. She steadies them just in time. Candice watches her daughter¡¯s antics with amused tolerance, then turns back to me, her expression curious. ¡°So, what exactly is hentai? No one actually answered me.¡± The room falls quiet again, all eyes turning to me. The weed has obliterated my filter, so I don¡¯t even consider deflecting. ¡°It¡¯s like comic books from Japan,¡± I explain with the earnest sincerity of the deeply intoxicated, ¡°about people fucking.¡± Candice¡¯s eyebrows shoot up, her cheeks coloring slightly at my blunt description. ¡°Oh,¡± she says, blinking rapidly. ¡°Uh, like porn?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I nod emphatically, pleased that she¡¯s grasped the concept so quickly. She laughs, the sound warm and rich, not judgmental in the slightest. ¡°You didn¡¯t strike me as the type of guy to like porn,¡± she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she studies my face with newfound curiosity. ¡°That is insane,¡± I respond without hesitation, my voice rising with indignation. Gabby is pouring tequila with the intense concentration of a bomb technician defusing an explosive. Her tongue pokes out slightly between her lips as she fills each glass to the exact same level, occasionally pausing to check her work with one eye closed for better depth perception. ¡°Perfect,¡± she declares, setting the bottle down with a decisive thunk. She looks around the room, her gaze landing on me with sudden intensity. ¡°Adam gets first pick since he¡¯s the guest.¡± I lean forward, studying the identical shot glasses as if they might contain different liquids despite having watched Gabby pour them all from the same bottle. The weed has me convinced this is a serious decision requiring careful consideration. ¡°This one,¡± I finally announce, selecting a glass from the middle of the lineup. I lift it carefully, admiring how the amber liquid catches the light. ¡°It¡¯s speaking to me.¡± Everyone else grabs one, Candice¡¯s arm brushing against my chest as she pulls back. I hold up my glass triumphantly. ¡°To Moth girl Hentai!¡± I declare with gusto. ¡°To Tentacles!¡± Connor yells, raising his shot high. We down them in unison, the tequila burning a fiery path down my throat and settling warmly in my stomach. The room erupts into cheers, Gabby immediately reaching for the bottle to refill our glasses. ¡°Round two!¡± she crows, her enthusiasm undampened by the alcohol or impending hangovers. ¡°Oh fuck we¡¯re really going for it tonight, aren¡¯t we,¡± I ask with feigned fear. Candice looks at me with concern. ¡°It¡¯s okay to stop if you don¡¯t feel comfortable.¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m just so happy, is all.¡± ***** I¡¯m so fucking high right now. And drunk. So drunk. The room keeps tilting at weird angles, and I¡¯m pretty sure gravity is working differently on different parts of my body. My head feels like it¡¯s floating six inches above my neck while my ass is somehow melting into the couch cushions. The Harper family living room has transformed into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. The lamp in the corner is pulsing with a soft golden glow that seems to breathe in time with my heartbeat. Someone put on music at some point, something with a deep bass that I can feel vibrating through the floorboards and up into my bones. My head lolls to the left, and through the haze of tequila and weed smoke, I see a scene that my brain takes several long seconds to process. Connor is sinking deeper into the cushions, his head thrown back against the couch, eyes half-closed in pleasure. April and June are on either side of him, taking turns capturing his mouth in deep, passionate kisses. June¡¯s hand is tangled in his hair, while April¡¯s fingers trace patterns on his chest, slowly working their way down his torso. Meanwhile, Gabby kneels on the floor between his legs, her fingers fumbling with his belt buckle, clumsy with intoxication but determined in her mission. ¡°For Christ¡¯s sake, girls!¡± Candice¡¯s voice cuts through the fog in my brain, exasperation tinged with resignation. ¡°We have company!¡± I blink slowly, turning to find Candice still beside me on the couch, looking at her daughters with what can only be described as motherly disapproval mixed with the tired acceptance of someone who¡¯s seen this scene play out many times before. ¡°Take it to one of your rooms,¡± she continues, waving her hand dismissively at them. ¡°This poor boy doesn¡¯t need to see all this.¡± ¡°Is this what they¡¯re like every night?¡± I ask, surprised. Candice sighs deeply, taking another sip from her glass before nodding. ¡°Yup. Every. Single. Night.¡± I¡¯ll go to bed first, ¡°I say, intending to saunter my way to sleep. Connor¡¯s head snaps up, his eyes widening. ¡°Wait, wait. Uhhh...¡± He pauses, his expression shifting from cool to something more calculated. He leans down, whispering something into Gabby¡¯s ear that I can¡¯t quite catch over the music. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Gabby pulls back slightly, her curly hair falling across her flushed face. ¡°Is that what you want?¡± she asks him, her voice carrying a note of curiosity rather than judgment. Connor nods a slow, deliberate movement that seems to take more concentration than it should. ¡°Sure, I¡¯d be fine with that,¡± Gabby replies, her lips curving into a mischievous smile that transforms her entire face. Connor clears his drunken throat and turns to me, his words coming out in an awkward stutter. ¡°If you want, we could maybe, uhh...¡± He trails off, looking suddenly unsure of himself, a rarity for the Connor I know. Gabby rolls her eyes at his hesitation. ¡°He¡¯s asking if you want to double-team me with him,¡± she announces bluntly, cutting through Connor¡¯s awkwardness with characteristic directness. I feel my jaw drop, surprise washing over me in a warm wave that has nothing to do with the alcohol or weed. Beside me, Candice lets out an audible gasp but says nothing else, her eyes darting between me and her youngest daughter. ¡°Just like, you know,¡± Connor continues, finding his voice again, ¡°it might be fun. Just two best friends sharing a girl...¡± He shrugs, trying to appear casual despite the obvious tension in his shoulders. I really consider it. The room seems to hold its breath as I weigh my options, my alcohol-soaked brain processing the proposition with agonizing slowness. I¡¯m rock-hard in my jeans, a fact I¡¯m painfully aware of, but something holds me back. Images of Caterina flash through my mind, her crimson eyes, her dangerous smile, the way she made me feel both terrified and alive. ¡®If she found out, she¡¯d flay them all.¡¯ ¡°I¡¯m sorry, man,¡± I finally say, shaking my head slowly. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m in a good head space for that. The whole Cat thing, you know?¡± Gabby sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the floor with theatrical disappointment. ¡°Shucks, there goes my best chance to be locked up like a Chinese finger trap,¡± she laments, staring at the ceiling as if it¡¯s personally betrayed her. Connor looks at me, his blue eyes softening with understanding. ¡°Hey dude, I completely get it,¡± he says, his voice gentle and sincere despite his drunken state. He reaches across the space between us to clasp my shoulder, his fingers squeezing with reassurance. ¡°No pressure at all. I just thought...¡± He trails off, shaking his head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re here, man. Safe.¡± The genuine concern in his voice cuts through my intoxicated haze, reminding me of all the times Connor has had my back over the years. I smile, feeling a wave of affection for my best friend. ¡°Go have fun, man,¡± I tell him, making a shooing motion with my hand. ¡°I want you to be happy too.¡± Connor¡¯s face breaks into a grin that lights up his entire face. ¡°Thanks, man,¡± he says, already being tugged to his feet by an impatient April. June and April each take one of Connor¡¯s arms, guiding him toward the bedrooms with practiced coordination despite their own inebriated state. Gabby follows close behind, her fingers already working at the buttons of her own shirt, her disappointment apparently forgotten in the anticipation of what¡¯s to come. As they disappear down the hall, giggles and whispered instructions floating down behind them, I sigh deeply and plant my hands on my knees, preparing for the monumental task of standing upright. ¡°Well, I should head to bed too,¡± I announce to no one in particular, my voice slurring slightly around the edges. I push myself up from the couch, my legs wobbling beneath me like a newborn colt¡¯s. The room tilts alarmingly, the floor seeming to rise up to meet me as I stumble forward. My shin connects with the edge of the coffee table, and I pitch forward. ¡°Whoa there!¡± Candice exclaims, her reflexes surprisingly quick as she lunges forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me back down to the couch with surprising strength. I land heavily beside her, the cushions bouncing beneath our combined weight. ¡°You¡¯re in no state to walk right now. Hold on.¡± Her hand remains on my arm, warm and steady, an anchor in the spinning room. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision, but everything remains slightly blurred at the edges, reality smearing like watercolors. The tequila and weed have formed an unholy alliance in my bloodstream, making simple tasks like sitting upright require intense concentration. I find myself leaning slightly toward Candice, drawn by the stability she offers in my swaying world. The room seems to shift and contract around us, the soft lamplight casting a warm glow that makes Candice¡¯s skin look impossibly smooth. My eyes drift to her face, taking in the gentle creases at the corners of her eyes, the slight upward tilt of her nose, the fullness of her lips painted a soft pink that catches the light when she speaks. ¡°I really shouldn¡¯t, Candice,¡± I hear myself say, though I¡¯m not entirely sure what I¡¯m refusing. My voice sounds distant and foreign like it¡¯s coming from someone else entirely. She laughs, the sound warm and rich with notes of honey and smoke, her head tilting back slightly to expose the elegant line of her throat. ¡°I¡¯m not trying anything, kid,¡± she says with a flirty laugh that sends a shiver down my spine despite the warmth of the room. ¡°Just making sure you don¡¯t crack your head open on my coffee table. What kind of host would I be then?¡± ¡°Good,¡± I say, hardly masking my disappointment. ¡®No, this is for the best.¡¯ I see through the horny in my drunken haze. ¡®Cat really would end the family if she ever found out if I slept with Candice.¡¯ ***** [Maddy¡¯s POV] I walk out of the elevator into Caterina¡¯s penthouse and freeze in the doorway, stunned by the devastation before me. The immaculate space that normally radiates controlled power has been transformed into a war zone. Shattered crystal glitters across the marble floors like diamond dust. The antique Italian vase that once stood in the entryway lies in pieces, water, and crushed roses spreading in a dark stain across the white carpet. And in the center of this hurricane stands Caterina, her golden hair wild around her face, her white suit jacket discarded, her silk blouse half-untucked and splattered with what looks like red wine. She¡¯s gripping the edge of an overturned coffee table, her knuckles white with tension. ¡°Boss?¡± I say, my voice unnaturally calm, even to my own ears. Years of practice have taught me how to maintain composure when Caterina loses hers. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± She whirls toward me, and I nearly take a step back. Her crimson eyes are wide, pupils dilated with a fury that borders on madness. There¡¯s a wildness to her I¡¯ve rarely seen, not even during the bloodiest takeovers or most brutal interrogations. ¡°ADAM IS GONE!¡± she screams, her voice raw as if she¡¯s been shouting for hours. She hurls a crystal tumbler against the wall where it explodes into glittering fragments. ¡°HE¡¯S FUCKING GONE, MADDY!¡± I feel mortified, my stomach dropping to my feet as the implications sink in. Adam, the soft-spoken man who somehow managed to capture Caterina¡¯s obsessive attention, has vanished. The man she¡¯s been possessively guarding for weeks. The man who witnessed Camila¡¯s punishment yesterday. ¡®This is bad. Very, very bad.¡¯ ¡°When did you notice?¡± I ask, slipping fully into crisis management mode as I pick my way through the debris toward her. ¡°An hour ago,¡± she snarls, pacing like a caged predator. Her heel crunches on broken glass, but she doesn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°I came home early to surprise him. Thought he might still be upset about yesterday.¡± Her laugh is sharp and humorless. ¡°Turns out he was more than upset. He was fucking planning his escape!¡± She kicks at a fallen lamp, sending it skidding across the floor to crash against the baseboard. ¡°I CAN¡¯T BELIEVE I GAVE HIM ANY FUCKING FREEDOM. I JUST WANTED HIM TO LOVE ME. I AM GOING TO FUCKING RUIN HIM WHEN I FIND HIM.¡± Her fury knows no bounds as she screams. ¡®Fuck.¡¯ ¡°I¡¯ll check the security cameras,¡± I offer, already reaching for my tablet. Caterina shakes her head, eyes flashing dangerously. ¡°Lara is already on that.¡± She stalks toward me, movements jerky with barely contained violence. ¡°She¡¯s checking every camera in the building, street feeds, everything. If he¡¯s on video, she¡¯ll find him.¡± She hands me his phone, the sleek device cool against my palm. ¡°Go through this. Find something. I¡¯m too angry to process this shit right now.¡± I nod, tucking the phone into my pocket as Caterina stalks toward her bedroom, her shoulders rigid with tension. She pauses at the doorway, not turning around. ¡°And call someone to clean up this fucking mess,¡± she orders, her voice hollow despite the venom in her words. The bedroom door slams behind her with enough force to rattle the remaining intact artwork on the walls. Through the thick wood, I hear a guttural scream of rage, followed by the sound of something heavy being thrown. Another crash. More breaking glass. ¡°Adam is fucked.¡± I whisper to myself. Candice: Chapter 27: Wig Twisting Season I blink groggily, the world swimming into focus as Candice helps me off the couch. My limbs feel disconnected from my brain, moving with a delayed response time that would be fascinating if it weren¡¯t so inconvenient. ¡°I got you,¡± she says, her arm around my waist providing much-needed support as I sway on unsteady feet. ¡°One step at a time.¡± We move through the house in slow motion, the hallway stretching and contracting like an accordion with each shuffling step. The stairs loom before us like a mountain to be conquered, each step a potential disaster. ¡°Maybe I should just sleep on the couch,¡± I suggest, eyeing the stairs with growing apprehension. Candice tightens her grip around my waist. ¡°Nonsense. You¡¯re a guest. You get a proper bed.¡± Somehow, we manage the ascent, though I¡¯m not entirely sure how. One moment, we¡¯re at the bottom, and the next, we¡¯re at the top, time skipping like a scratched record in my intoxicated state. The guest room door swings open, revealing the navy comforter and soft pillows that look like heaven to my exhausted body. Candice guides me to the bed, and I collapse onto it with a grateful groan, the mattress enveloping me in its embrace. ¡°Thank you,¡± I mumble into the pillow, already feeling sleep tugging at the edges of my consciousness. ¡°You¡¯re really nice.¡± Candice laughs softly. ¡°Get some rest, Adam. You¡¯re safe here.¡± S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Her words follow me down into darkness as consciousness slips away. ***** Something pulls me from the depths of sleep, a sensation so pleasant it weaves itself into my dreams before I¡¯m fully awake. Warmth and pressure and rhythm, a slick, tight heat enveloping me. My hips move of their own accord, seeking more of this delicious feeling. My eyelids are heavy, reluctant to open in the pitch darkness of the unfamiliar room. The pleasure intensifies, and I become aware of a weight on top of me, of soft thighs straddling my hips, of hands braced against my chest. ¡°Cat?¡± I murmur, the name slipping out before my brain can catch up. My hand reaches up, seeking her face in the darkness, fingers trailing over soft skin, tracing the line of a jaw that feels familiar yet different. ¡°Shhhh,¡± comes the whispered response. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help myself, and you were so hard when I put you to bed.¡± Reality blurs at the edges, my consciousness floating somewhere between sleep and waking. The pleasure ripples through me in waves, each one stronger than the last. My eyes struggle to focus in the darkness, catching only glimpses, the curve of a shoulder, the outline of short hair. ¡°Just let me take care of you,¡± the voice whispers, and in my addled state, it transforms into Caterina¡¯s voice, that perfect blend of command and affection that always unravels me. ¡°You found me,¡± I murmur, my hands finding her hips, feeling the softness there that my fingers instinctively recognize. ¡°How did you find me?¡± She doesn¡¯t answer, just rolls her hips in a slow, deliberate motion that makes me gasp. The sensation is overwhelming, wet sloppy pussy enveloping me completely, muscles squeezing with perfect pressure. My head falls back against the pillow, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure courses through my veins like liquid gold. ¡°I¡¯ll always find you,¡± she says, and I believe her. In this moment, nothing else matters, not my escape, not my fear, just this connection that feels like coming home. Her movements are unhurried, almost reverent. There¡¯s no rush, no desperate chase toward climax, just the slow building of pleasure like a tide gradually rising. Her hands trace patterns across my chest, fingertips dancing over my skin with tender possessiveness. ¡°You¡¯re mine for the night,¡± she whispers, leaning down to press her lips against my neck. The scent of her is different, warmer, with notes of vanilla and something earthy, but my intoxicated brain doesn¡¯t register the discrepancy as strange. ¡°Let me show you how much I want you tonight.¡± I surrender completely to her touch. I cup her breasts with reverence, feeling their weight, the hardened peaks of her nipples pressing against my palms. They feel fuller, heavier than I remember, but the thought dissolves as quickly as it forms, washed away by another wave of pleasure. ¡°So good for me,¡± she praises, her voice honey-sweet in the darkness. ¡°My beautiful boy.¡± The endearment sends a shiver down my spine. My hips buck upward of their own accord, seeking deeper connection. She responds with a soft moan that vibrates through her body and into mine. ¡°Cat,¡± I whisper the name, a prayer on my lips. ¡°I missed you so much.¡± She guides one of my hands between her thighs, showing me exactly how to touch her. I follow her silent instructions, fingers circling and pressing where she needs them most. Her breath catches, her rhythm faltering for just a moment before resuming with renewed purpose. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± she encourages, her voice thick with pleasure. ¡°Just like that.¡± I feel myself drifting in a haze of sensation, reality, and fantasy blurring together. My body knows this dance, responds to her touch with practiced ease even as my mind floats somewhere above, watching with detached wonder. I guide her hands to my throat, my fingers wrapping around her wrists with gentle insistence. ¡°Could you maybe do it like usual?¡± I whisper, the request falling from my lips without thought. She hesitates, her hands hovering just above my skin, her rhythm slowing but never quite stopping. ¡°Uhh, baby, I don¡¯t think this is very respectful for such a beautiful man like you,¡± she whispers back, uncertainty coloring her tone. I grab her palms and tighten them against my throat, craving that familiar pressure, that perfect edge of danger that always sends me spiraling into ecstasy. ¡°Please, Cat,¡± I plead, my voice breaking with need. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I ran away. I was just scared.¡± Her hands tighten experimentally around my throat, hesitant at first, then with growing confidence as she feels my response. The gentle pressure sends sparks of electricity down my spine, my body arching beneath her like a bow drawn taut. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I gasp, the words barely audible. ¡°Just like that.¡± The darkness wraps around us like a cocoon, intimate and safe. I can feel her weight shifting above me, her thighs trembling slightly as she maintains her position. My hands find her hips again, fingers digging into soft flesh, guiding her movements to match the rhythm that¡¯s building inside me like a gathering storm. ¡°You like this?¡± she asks, her voice husky with desire but tinged with something nervous. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I breathe, lost in the sensation. ¡°You know I do.¡± ¡°I missed you,¡± I murmur, reaching up to touch her face in the darkness, fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. ¡°I thought I wanted to get away, but I was wrong. Just please don¡¯t hurt them.¡± She leans into my touch, her movements faltering slightly. ¡°Honey,¡± she whispers, her voice gentler than I remember, ¡°what are you running away from?¡± ¡°Cat,¡± I breathe, my hips rising to meet hers, seeking that perfect connection. ¡°I¡¯m running from you.¡± Her hips stop rolling altogether, though I can feel her pussy twitching around me, causing me to whimper at the sudden pause in stimulation. She cups my face between her palms, thumbs stroking my cheeks with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. ¡°Why are you afraid of me?¡± she asks, her voice soft and concerned. The question pierces through the fog of pleasure and intoxication, demanding an answer I¡¯m too far gone to withhold. ¡°Because you¡¯re a mob boss,¡± I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. ¡°Because I saw you hurt people. Because you hurt me. Because I¡¯m afraid of what you¡¯ll do to me if I try to leave again.¡± She goes completely still above me, her hands frozen against my face. Even in the darkness, I can sense her shock, feel the sudden tension radiating through her body. ¡°Honey,¡± she says, her voice gentler than I remember, almost maternal in its warmth, ¡°I¡¯m not Cat, okay? I¡¯m Candice.¡± The words float around me like bubbles, pretty and fragile, not quite connecting in my intoxicated brain. Her hips begin to move again, slow and deliberate, her inner muscles squeezing me with delicious pressure that makes it hard to think, hard to focus on anything beyond the building pleasure. ¡°Candice dick fit in yo mouth?¡± I say with confusion. ¡°What?¡± she says lost. ¡°Candice?¡± I whisper, confusion and desire warring within me. She leans down, her breasts pressing against my chest, her lips finding my ear. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I tricked you,¡± she murmurs, her breath warm against my skin. ¡°But let me keep you safe from now on.¡± Her words vibrate through me, settling somewhere deep in my chest, a promise that feels like shelter after a storm. My hands find her waist, fingers splaying across soft skin that¡¯s different from what I remember fuller, warmer, marked by the gentle evidence of a life lived fully. ¡°Candice,¡± I repeat, the name feeling strange yet right on my tongue. She rocks against me, her movements more confident now, guiding us both toward release. One of her hands cradles the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair with tender possession ¡°Your Ex clearly scared you, but there¡¯s no way she¡¯s a mob boss, honey. Let me take care of you,¡± she whispers, her voice a velvet caress in the darkness. ¡°Let me show you what love is supposed to feel like.¡± My hips rise to meet hers of their own accord, falling into a rhythm that feels both new and familiar. The weight of her above me is grounding, her body a warm anchor in a world that¡¯s been spinning out of control for too long. The room spins around me, reality distorting like a carnival mirror as pleasure builds at the base of my spine, coiling tighter with each roll of Candice¡¯s hips. Her movements become more deliberate, more focused, drawing me inexorably toward the edge of oblivion. ¡®Candice Harper!¡¯ I finally realize. ¡°Wait, Candice,¡± I gasp, my hands suddenly gripping her thighs, trying to still her movements as clarity cuts through my drunken haze like a lightning bolt. ¡°You can¡¯t do this.¡± But Candice misinterprets my protest, she takes it as encouragement, her pace quickening as she leans down to press her lips against my collarbone, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. ¡°I Feel like I¡¯m gonna¡­,¡± I manage, the words slurring together as I struggle against the dual influence of alcohol and overwhelming pleasure. ¡°Candice, please stop. You don¡¯t understand...¡± Images of Caterina flash through my mind. Her crimson eyes narrowed in rage, her elegant hands stained with blood, the casual violence she inflicted on those who crossed her. What would she do to this woman, this gentle, maternal figure who¡¯s shown me nothing but kindness? ¡®Besides this rape.¡¯ ¡°Wait, Candice,¡± I plead again, more urgently, this time, my hands fumbling at her hips in a desperate attempt to lift her off me before it¡¯s too late. But it is indeed too late. The pressure that¡¯s been building inside me finally breaks like a taut wire snapping. My back arches off the bed, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of Candice¡¯s thighs as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. I start cumming deep inside Candice¡¯s pussy, my body betraying my mind¡¯s desperate attempt to protect her. ¡°Oh fuck,¡± I groan, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me as my vision whites out completely. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Candice collapses against my chest, her breath coming in quick, shallow pants that tickle my skin. Her inner muscles continue to pulse around me, milking every last drop as my hips jerk with aftershocks of pleasure. ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry,¡± she whispers against my neck, her voice warm with satisfaction. ¡°That was beautiful.¡± But horror is dawning on me now, cutting through the alcoholic haze like a knife. My body trembles beneath hers, not with pleasure but with mounting terror. Tears spring to my eyes, unbidden, hot, and sudden. ¡°No, no, no,¡± I whisper, my voice cracking as the first tears spill over. ¡°No, no, no, no.¡± Each repetition grows more desperate, more broken until I¡¯m sobbing openly, my chest heaving with the force of my distress. Candice shifts immediately, concern replacing satisfaction as she moves off me and to my side. Her arms encircle me with what feels like motherly instinct, pulling me against her chest where I can hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath my ear. Her fingers stroke through my hair with tender, soothing motions. ¡°Shhh,¡± she murmurs, her lips pressing against my forehead. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯ve got you.¡± But her gentleness only makes me cry harder, great heaving sobs that seem to be torn from somewhere deep inside me. The tears flow unchecked down my face, dampening the soft skin of her chest where my cheek rests. ¡°You¡¯ll get your family killed,¡± I choke out between sobs, my words slurring together as alcohol and emotion combine to loosen my tongue. ¡°You¡¯ll get Connor killed. She¡¯ll find me.¡± ¡®It¡¯s my fault.¡¯ My fingers clutch at Candice¡¯s arm, digging in with desperate intensity as if I could physically anchor her to safety. The room spins around me, darkness and moonlight blending into a disorienting kaleidoscope as I try to make her understand the danger she¡¯s unknowingly invited into her home. ¡°She has people everywhere,¡± I continue, my voice dropping to a terrified whisper. ¡°She¡¯ll hurt everyone I touch. She¡¯ll hurt you. She¡¯ll hurt your daughters. She¡¯s not just some ex-girlfriend, she¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°Shhhhh,¡± Candice interrupts, her voice impossibly gentle as she tightens her arms around me. ¡°No one¡¯s gonna kill us, darling. No one.¡± She rocks me slightly, the motion as old as motherhood itself, designed to comfort and soothe. Her hand continues its steady rhythm through my hair, occasionally wiping away tears from my cheeks with a tenderness that breaks my heart. ¡°You¡¯re safe here,¡± she whispers, her breath warm against my temple. ¡°I¡¯ll protect you.¡± I want to believe her. I really do. ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± I murmur, my words slurring together, each syllable running into the next like watercolors in the rain. ¡°She¡¯s not normal... she¡¯s... she¡¯s got these eyes like blood... and she... her friend cut off someone¡¯s hand... right in front of me...¡± ¡°Just sleep for now, darling,¡± she whispers, her fingers continuing their gentle rhythm through my hair. The sensation anchors me somehow, a steady point in my spinning world. ¡°We¡¯ll figure everything out in the morning.¡± I feel Candice pull the comforter up over both of us, the soft weight settling around my shoulders like an embrace. She¡¯s still holding me, one arm around my waist, the other cradling my head against her chest, where I can hear the steady, reassuring rhythm of her heartbeat. ¡°Sleep,¡± she says again, and this time it sounds almost like a spell, a gentle command my body cannot resist. My eyelids grow heavier with each blink, the darkness behind them more inviting than frightening now. Candice¡¯s warmth beside me feels like a shield, her steady breathing a lullaby, drawing me deeper toward un As my consciousness fades, one thought peaks through. ¡®I will not let Connor get hurt no matter what.¡¯ Chapter 28: David Vs Goliath [Maddy¡¯s POV] The morning chill bites at my exposed skin as I stand on the platform at Beverly Station, watching the commuter rail pull away in a cloud of diesel exhaust. Early morning light casts long shadows across the concrete, painting everything in shades of gold and gray. The station is starting to fill back up with commuters, mostly women in sharp business attire heading into Boston for work, clutching coffee cups and checking their watches with practiced impatience. Beside me, Lara shifts from foot to foot, her lanky frame practically vibrating with barely contained energy. She looks deceptively professional in her tailored black pantsuit. Only the maniacal gleam in her blue eyes betrays what she really is. ¡®I hope to never be on the wrong end of Lara¡¯s creepy look.¡¯ ¡°I went through the footage here,¡± Lara says, tapping at her tablet with long, elegant fingers. Her voice carries that unsettling singsong quality that always makes my skin crawl slightly. ¡°No one got off this stop looking like Adam.¡± I nod, scanning the platform methodically. We¡¯ve been at this since 4 AM, working our way north along the commuter rail line. Caterina is beside herself, which means we¡¯re all walking on eggshells. ¡°Let¡¯s try asking around again,¡± I suggest, keeping my voice calm and measured despite the tension coiling in my stomach. If we don¡¯t find Adam soon, Caterina might actually start putting bullets in people, starting with us. An elderly woman catches my eye, perhaps in her seventies. She¡¯s sitting on a bench, feeding crumbs to pigeons while waiting for the next train. Something about her alert eyes tells me she notices things. I approach her with practiced ease, my posture deliberately relaxed, non-threatening. Years in this business have taught me how to appear harmless when needed. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± I say, my voice warm and concerned as I pull out my phone with Adam¡¯s photo displayed on the screen. ¡°Have you seen this man? He¡¯s my brother, and he¡¯s missing. Our family is very worried.¡± The lie flows easily from my lips. The woman squints at the screen, then her face lights up with recognition. ¡°Ah yes, he was riding the train yesterday!¡± she exclaims, nodding vigorously. ¡°I thought it was funny because he was sitting with another young lad.¡± My pulse quickens. ¡°Did you see where he got off?¡± ¡°Salem,¡± she says with certainty, then adds with a frankness that only the elderly can get away with, ¡°I remember wanting to see his ass clap as he got off the train.¡± I sigh, ignoring the inappropriate comment. ¡°Okay¡­ thanks.¡± I walk back to where Lara waits, her eyes following me with that unnerving intensity. ¡°Salem,¡± I tell her, watching as she immediately pulls up the station on her tablet, fingers flying across the screen with practiced efficiency. ¡°I¡¯ll get the surveillance footage,¡± she says, already tapping away. Her red hair catches the morning light, gleaming like fresh blood against the stark black of her suit. She works in silence for a moment, her face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen. ¡°Got it,¡± Lara announces, her voice lifting with that childlike excitement that always surfaces when she¡¯s on the hunt. She turns the tablet toward me, the screen displaying grainy footage of Salem station. She fast-forwards through footage of the platform, people moving at comical speeds, until she suddenly stops, freezing the frame. There¡¯s Adam, clear as day, wearing those expensive sunglasses Caterina bought him and that weird blue hat he stole. ¡°Is that...¡± I lean closer, unable to believe what I¡¯m seeing. The cap has white lettering across the front that reads, ¡®PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME. I HAVE AUTISM.¡¯ ¡°Ugh¡­¡± I sigh again in pure pity for how stupid Adam is. Lara lets out a high-pitched giggle that draws concerned glances from nearby commuters. ¡°Oh my god, the hat he stole was an autism awareness hat! What a fucking adorable idiot!¡± I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. ¡°He¡¯s making this too easy. Keep watching, see who he¡¯s with.¡± Lara continues the footage, and we watch as Adam walks beside another man with brown hair. They¡¯re followed by two women who keep glancing at Adam with obvious suspicion. ¡°Freeze there,¡± I say, pointing at the screen. ¡°Let¡¯s get a clear shot of his companions. I¡¯m going to fucking lose my mind if it turns out he got kidnapped after trying to escape.¡± S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lara obliges, capturing still images of the three people with Adam. ¡°I¡¯ll run facial recognition,¡± she says, already typing commands into the tablet. ¡°Should have results in a few minutes.¡± ¡°Good. Let¡¯s head to Salem in the meantime.¡± I pull out my phone to text Caterina our update. As we walk toward the parking lot where our driver waits, Lara frowns and says, ¡°Adam is kind of an idiot, right?¡± I nod, unable to argue with her assessment. ¡°He didn¡¯t even delete his history on his phone, just left it for us to find. Then he put a bright blue hat on, making it even easier to track him down along with a literal duffle bag full of cash.¡± We slide into the black Cadillac SUV, the leather seats cool against my skin despite the warm morning. Our driver, Niki, doesn¡¯t even turn around, just nods once in acknowledgment when I say ¡°Salem¡± and pulls smoothly onto the road. Lara sits unnaturally still beside me, her usual fidgeting conspicuously absent. She stares out the window, her sharp profile outlined against the passing scenery, red hair falling in a perfect curtain against her black suit jacket. The tablet rests on her lap, facial recognition software still working to identify Adam¡¯s companions. ¡°Maddy, can I ask you something?¡± Lara says suddenly, her voice lacking its usual manic edge. I turn toward her, instantly on alert. A serious Lara is always cause for concern. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± She turns to face me, and I¡¯m startled by the unfamiliar expression in her blue eyes, something almost like concern, an emotion I¡¯ve never associated with Lara before. ¡°How bad is Cat going to hurt him when we find him?¡± she asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft. The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications. I consider my answer carefully, weighing honesty against discretion. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I finally admit, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen her torture people for bothering her less than this.¡± Lara frowns. It transforms her face, making her look almost normal for a moment, almost human. ¡°He¡¯s just an innocent guy, Maddy,¡± she says, still using that strange, quiet voice. ¡°Maybe we should just lie.¡± I study her carefully, noting the unusual tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers grip the tablet too tightly. Something¡¯s off. Lara never shows concern for targets. Quite the opposite. She typically vibrates with excitement at the prospect of inflicting pain. A suspicion forms in my mind, cold and insidious. Perhaps she¡¯s not concerned for Adam at all. Perhaps she wants him for herself. I¡¯ve seen what Lara does to people when she gets them alone. Her particular brand of torture and rape makes even Caterina¡¯s methods seem merciful by comparison. The memory of our last ¡°cleanup job¡± flashes through my mind, Lara humming cheerfully as she worked, her delicate hands moving with surgical precision as she systematically dismantled a man who had tried to cheat Caterina in a business deal. The sound of her laughter mixing with his screams still haunts my nightmares. ¡°Look, Lara,¡± I say carefully, keeping my voice level despite the chill creeping up my spine, ¡°I sold my soul to Caterina a long time ago. If this is what she wants, then so be it.¡± Lara sighs heavily. ¡°Yeah, alright.¡± ¡°Whether or not we do this, Caterina would find Adam by the end of the week anyway. He¡¯s fucked.¡± ¡°He never stood a chance, you know,¡± I continue, more to fill the silence than anything else. ¡°From the moment he caught her eye. It was rigged from the start.¡± Lara nods, her red hair swaying with the motion. ¡°True,¡± she agrees, her voice flat and emotionless. Suddenly, Lara sits up straight, her attention snapping back to the tablet as it emits a soft chime. The blue glow illuminates her face from below, giving her an otherworldly appearance as her eyes scan rapidly across the screen. ¡°What¡¯s it say?¡± I ask, leaning closer to get a better look. Lara¡¯s lips curve into a smile that doesn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°April and Gabby Harper,¡± she says, her voice regaining some of its usual singsong quality. Her fingers fly across the screen, pulling up additional information with practiced efficiency. I watch as photographs appear on the screen, driver¡¯s licenses, social media profiles, employment records. The sisters look ordinary enough, pretty in an understated way. Nothing about them screams, ¡°Saving a man.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Lara muses, scrolling further through the information. ¡°Looks like they live with another sister, June, and their mother, Candice.¡± She pulls up property records, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. ¡°And I¡¯ve got an address. 47 Hancock Street, Salem.¡± I lean back in my seat, processing this information. So Adam didn¡¯t make it far after all. Just hopped off at Salem. ¡°Fuck. He really might have been kidnapped.¡± I say mostly to myself. ¡®This really is so sad. He¡¯s not cut out for this world at all.¡¯ ¡°Niki, I¡¯ve got an address. I¡¯m gonna send you the coordinates,¡± Lara says, already forwarding the information to the car¡¯s navigation system. Niki just nods, her eyes never leaving the road. I pull out my phone, dreading the call I need to make. Caterina will be pleased we¡¯ve found Adam so quickly, but her pleasure often manifests in ways that leave collateral damage. These Harper sisters and their mother have no idea what¡¯s about to hit them. ¡®We can¡¯t just kill a family in broad daylight.¡¯ ¡°I¡¯ll call Caterina and see what she wants to do,¡± I say, my finger hovering over her contact information. Chapter 29: Never Tell Me the Odds [Adam¡¯s POV] Light stabs through my eyelids like a thousand tiny needles, each one drilling directly into my brain. I groan, rolling onto my side and immediately regretting the movement as my stomach lurches in protest. The pounding in my head is relentless, a bass drum being played by an enthusiastic toddler with no concept of mercy. ¡°Kill me,¡± I whisper to no one in particular, my voice a hoarse croak that scrapes against my dry throat. I force my eyes open, squinting against the sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains. The room gradually comes into focus. the comforter, the plain walls, the dresser with its neat, empty surface. The guest room. I¡¯m still at the Harper house. Fragments of the previous night float through my mind like debris after a hurricane, tequila shots, Connor¡¯s laughter, the blue hat with its embarrassing message, Candice¡¯s warm smile as she helped me up the stairs. Then there¡¯s a blank space, a fuzzy darkness punctuated by flashes of... something. Warmth. Pleasure. Skin against skin. I turn my head, movement sending fresh waves of pain crashing against my skull, and freeze. Candice Harper lies beside me, her naked body partially covered by the navy sheet that¡¯s tangled around our legs. Her brown hair is tousled from sleep, her lips slightly parted as she breathes deeply, still lost in dreams. One arm is flung above her head, the other curved in the space between us, like she was holding me before drifting away in slumber. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡®Oh fuck. No, no, no.¡¯ The reality of what happened crashes over me with the force of a tidal wave. Not all the details, but enough. Enough to know that I¡¯ve made a catastrophic mistake. I stare at her sleeping form, unable to tear my eyes away despite the rising panic that threatens to choke me. She looks peaceful, satisfied even, the lines on her face softened by sleep. Her breasts rise and fall with each breath, the sheet having slipped down to reveal more than it conceals. My stomach churns with a nauseating mixture of hangover and dread. The pounding in my head intensifies as memories from last night become sharper, more focused. Candice on top of me. My hands on her body. The way she moved. The things I said. ¡®Jesus Christ, I thought she was Cat.¡¯ I need to get out of here. Now. Before Caterina finds me. Before she discovers what happened between Candice and me, Before she unleashes hell on this family, that¡¯s been nothing but kind to me. I try to slide out from under the sheets without disturbing Candice, moving with agonizing slowness despite the urgency screaming through my veins. Each tiny movement feels like sandpaper against my raw nerves, the hangover amplifying every sensation to unbearable levels. Just as I¡¯m about to swing my legs over the edge of the bed, the door creaks open. Connor¡¯s head pops in, his hair disheveled, eyes still puffy with sleep. He freezes when he spots us, his gaze darting from my naked torso to Candice¡¯s sleeping form beside me. ¡°Ahh, sorry,¡± he says, his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline as a knowing smirk spreads across his face. He gives me an exaggerated wink and a thumbs-up before slipping back out, pulling the door closed with a soft click that seems to echo like thunder in my pounding head. The sound of the door closing disturbs Candice. Her eyes flutter open, warm brown irises focusing on my face with immediate recognition. Unlike me, she doesn¡¯t seem disoriented or confused. A soft smile curves her lips as she reaches out to trace my jawline with gentle fingers. ¡°Last night was amazing,¡± she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep and something else, something warm and intimate that makes my chest tighten with emotions I don¡¯t want to examine. She pulls me into a hug before I can retreat, her arms wrapping around me with surprising strength, drawing me against the soft warmth of her body. ¡°Candice, I¡¯m sorry, but I think last night was a mistake,¡± I say, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. ¡°I have people after me, Candice. Dangerous people. You don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re getting yourself involved with.¡± She says, ¡°Shhhh,¡± pressing a finger to my lips. ¡°No one¡¯s after you. Let me protect you.¡± ¡°Candice, I¡¯m not¡­¡± She cuts me off with a gentle squeeze, her arms tightening around me in a way that feels both comforting and inescapable. ¡°Adam, let¡¯s talk about this after breakfast,¡± she says, her voice taking on that maternal tone that somehow makes my protests die in my throat. ¡°You know how men get when they¡¯re hungry. Just come here.¡± She hugs me tighter, her breasts pressing against my chest, soft and warm. The physical contact sends conflicting signals through my hangover-addled brain, comfort, danger, desire, and dread, all mixed together in a toxic cocktail that makes it hard to think straight. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± I relent, not having the energy to fight both her and my splitting headache simultaneously. I let her pull me against her body, my head resting against her shoulder as her fingers trace soothing patterns across my back. ¡®I¡¯ll silently walk out after breakfast when no one¡¯s looking,¡¯ I think to myself, the plan forming with desperate clarity in my mind. ¡®Grab the duffel bag, find the back door, and disappear before anyone notices. Before Caterina finds this place. Before she hurts these people because of me.¡¯ Candice presses a soft kiss to my forehead, completely unaware of the danger hanging over her head like a guillotine, suspended by a single thread that grows thinner with each passing moment. ¡°Everything¡¯s going to be okay,¡± she whispers against my skin, her breath warm and gentle. ¡°I promise.¡± ¡®What an insane thing to promise someone you just met.¡¯ ***** The dining table at the Harper house is massive. I sit awkwardly in the middle, flanked by Candice on my left and Connor on my right, while June bustles around us, delivering plate after plate of breakfast foods. The spread is genuinely impressive scrambled eggs, bacon crisped to perfection, stacks of golden pancakes, fresh fruit arranged in a colorful spiral, and a basket of muffins still steaming from the oven. The domestic scene feels surreal after the last few weeks of my life. My head pounds with each heartbeat, a relentless reminder of last night¡¯s excesses. The smell of food, normally enticing, makes my stomach roll ominously. I take small sips of water, trying to rehydrate without triggering my gag reflex. Candice¡¯s hand rests casually on my thigh under the table, her thumb making small, lazy circles against the fabric of my borrowed sweatpants. The touch just annoys me. April and Gabby sit across from us, both also hungover. April¡¯s blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun, her normally sharp eyes slightly unfocused as she nibbles cautiously on a piece of dry toast. Gabby looks worse, slumped in her chair with dark circles under her eyes, clutching her coffee mug like it contains the elixir of life. Connor leans in close, his shoulder brushing against mine as he dips his head toward my ear. ¡°How was it?¡± he whispers, his voice barely audible over the clinking of silverware and June¡¯s cheerful humming from the kitchen. I turn slightly, keeping my voice equally low. ¡°I barely remember. I was browning out hard.¡± Connor¡¯s eyes widen slightly before he nods in understanding. A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. ¡°You love MILFs, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°True,¡± I mutter, pressing my fingers against my temples in a futile attempt to alleviate the throbbing. ¡°Too tired to think about it.¡± Connor chuckles quietly, patting my shoulder with sympathy that does nothing to ease my growing sense of dread. June returns to the table, carrying a steaming carafe of coffee that makes Gabby perk up visibly. ¡°More coffee for anyone?¡± I shake my head, immediately regretting the motion as pain lances through my skull. ¡°No thanks,¡± I mutter, wincing as Candice fills my plate with a mountain of eggs and crispy bacon strips. ¡°Make sure you eat a lot so you can have lots of energy today,¡± Candice says, her voice carrying a suggestive undertone. ¡®She just wants to treat me like a walking dildo,¡¯ I think to myself, the realization both flattering and deeply concerning given my situation. June returns from the kitchen with a basket of toast, but freezes mid-step when she catches the way Candice is looking at me, all bedroom eyes and secret smiles. Her gaze darts between us, taking in Candice¡¯s hand on my thigh, the slightly rumpled way we both look, the unmistakable intimacy that hangs in the air like perfume. ¡°Mom, you didn¡¯t?¡± June asks. ¡°He was way too drunk last night to consent!¡± The accusation lands like a bomb at the breakfast table. April¡¯s head snaps up, her hangover momentarily forgotten as she stares at her mother with wide eyes. Gabby nearly chokes on her coffee, coughing violently as Connor pats her back. Candice has the grace to look slightly embarrassed, but there¡¯s no real remorse in her expression as she shrugs one shoulder. ¡°Oh, and Connor wasn¡¯t?¡± she counters, gesturing toward Connor with her fork. April bristles immediately, her posture straightening as she comes to Connor¡¯s defense. ¡°Connor wants it just as much as we do,¡± she insists, her voice sharp with territorial protectiveness. June¡¯s eyes are locked on me, searching for signs of trauma or discomfort, while April continues to glare at her mother with barely contained indignation. ¡°Relax, relax,¡± I say, raising my hands in a placating gesture. The sudden movement sends fresh waves of pain pulsing through my skull, but I push through it. ¡°I consented. It¡¯s fine.¡± The words feel hollow even as they leave my mouth, a peace offering sacrificed on the altar of household harmony. But the alternative, admitting I was too drunk to consent, that I¡¯m pretty sure Candice tricked me, seems infinitely worse. The last thing I need is to drive a wedge between these people when I¡¯m about to disappear from their lives forever. June frowns, her brow furrowing as she studies my face with the careful scrutiny of someone who¡¯s spent years reading between lines. ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asks, her voice gentler now but no less probing. ¡°Because if you weren¡¯t in a state to¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure,¡± I interrupt, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack my face in half. ¡°Really. It¡¯s all good.¡± The lie sits heavy on my tongue, but it seems to work. The tension in the room deflates slightly, June¡¯s shoulders relaxing as she sets down the toast basket. Candice¡¯s hand squeezes my thigh under the table, a gesture that¡¯s meant to be reassuring but only intensifies my urge to flee. I take a deep breath, preparing to make some excuse about needing air, about gathering my thoughts, anything that will get me out of this house sooner. But then the doorbell rings. The sound slices through the awkward silence like a knife, three sharp, insistent chimes that freeze the blood in my veins. My fork clatters against the plate as my hand goes suddenly numb, fingers refusing to maintain their grip. ¡°I wonder who that could be,¡± Candice says, already pushing back her chair. ¡°We weren¡¯t expecting anyone, were we, June?¡± June shakes her head, looking equally puzzled. ¡°No, not that I know of.¡± My whole body starts to feel sick, a cold sweat breaking out across my forehead as nausea rises like a tide in my stomach. The room tilts slightly, breakfast plates and coffee mugs blurring at the edges as one terrible thought consumes my mind. ¡®I have a bad feeling about this.¡¯ Chapter 30: Britney Spears I freeze mid-bite, my fork suspended in the air as the doorbell¡¯s echo fades. The sound reverberates through my skull like a death knell, each lingering note amplifying my hangover and sending fresh waves of dread coursing through my veins. Candice rises from her chair, tightening the belt of her robe as she moves toward the hallway. ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± she calls over her shoulder, her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floors. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. My heart pounds against my ribcage, a trapped animal desperate for escape. Every instinct screams at me to run, to flee, to grab my duffel bag and disappear before¡­ The front door creaks open, hinges groaning slightly as if in warning. Candice¡¯s voice drifts from the entryway, casual and welcoming. ¡°Hello, can I help you?¡± And then I hear it, a voice that sends ice water cascading down my spine, familiar yet out of place, like a nightmare invading waking life. ¡°Hello, ma¡¯am, we¡¯re with the Salem Police Department. We received a report that a man named Adam Anderson is currently in this residence.¡± Lara¡¯s voice. Unmistakable despite the professional veneer she¡¯s adopted, the precise diction that somehow manages to sound both childlike and predatory. My body moves before my brain can catch up, chair scraping loudly against the floor as I stand. The sudden motion sends a spike of pain through my skull, but the adrenaline flooding my system washes it away almost instantly. ¡°Where you going?¡± Connor asks, his brow furrowing with concern as he notices the panic that must be written across my face. I don¡¯t answer. Can¡¯t answer. My throat has closed up, words trapped behind the knot of terror lodged there. I back away from the table, nearly knocking over my water glass in my haste. June stands, too, her expression shifting from confusion to alarm as she takes in my reaction. ¡°Adam? What¡¯s wrong?¡± But I¡¯m already moving, turning away from their questioning faces, from the breakfast I¡¯ll never finish, from the brief sanctuary that¡¯s about to be shattered. My bare feet carry me swiftly toward the stairs. Behind me, I hear Candice¡¯s voice, polite but guarded. ¡°May I see some identification, please?¡± I race up the stairs, my bare feet barely making a sound on the carpeted steps. Each heartbeat pounds in my temples like a hammer, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins drowns out the hangover¡¯s complaints. The guest room door stands ajar, sunlight streaming through the gap to illuminate the rumpled bed where Candice and I had... no time to think about that now. I lunge for the duffel bag, still sitting untouched beside the nightstand. The zipper makes an obscenely loud sound as I yank it open, my fingers trembling as they push past stacks of cash to find the cold metal beneath. The weight of the gun is both familiar and alien in my hand. I tuck it into the waistband of my borrowed sweatpants and then zip the bag back up. The cotton of my t-shirt drapes over it, concealing its presence. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself. The voices from downstairs drift up through the floorboards, Candice¡¯s warm but increasingly confused tone, the professional cadence of Lara¡¯s false police persona, and somewhere beneath it all, a third voice I can¡¯t quite make out yet, but whose presence I can feel like a gathering storm. Each step down the stairs feels like walking toward an execution. The wood creaks beneath my weight, announcing my descent to everyone below. I pause at the landing, gathering what little courage remains in my trembling body. The scene in the entryway comes into focus like a nightmare materializing before my eyes. Lara and Maddy stand just inside the threshold, dressed in impeccable Salem Police Department uniforms that look like the real deal. Lara¡¯s red hair is pulled back in a tight bun, her blue eyes gleaming with that familiar predatory light that makes my skin crawl. Maddy stands slightly behind her, her expression carefully neutral, though I catch the slight tightening around her eyes when she spots me on the stairs. But it¡¯s the third figure that causes my blood to freeze in my veins. Caterina stands between them, achingly beautiful in a cream-colored pantsuit that hugs her slender frame. Her blonde hair falls in perfect waves around her shoulders, framing a face that has haunted my dreams and nightmares alike. She looks pristine, powerful, untouchable. Our eyes meet across the room, and for a moment, everything else falls away. The world narrows to just Caterina and me, locked in a silent exchange that transcends the crowded entryway. I see the storm brewing behind her crimson eyes, the barely contained fury simmering beneath her perfect composure. But there¡¯s something else, too, something raw and vulnerable that catches me off guard. Before I can process it further, Caterina¡¯s face crumples. Her perfect features contort with anguish, tears welling up and spilling over in glistening tracks down her flawless cheeks. The transformation is so sudden, so complete, that everyone in the room seems frozen in shock. ¡°BABY!¡± she wails, her voice breaking with emotion as she rushes toward me, crossing the distance between us in long, desperate strides. ¡°I thought I lost you!¡± She throws herself at me, her arms encircling my body with crushing force. She just narrowly misses the gun. Her fingers dig into my back, clinging to me like I might disappear if she loosens her grip even slightly. Her face presses against my neck, and I feel her hot tears against my skin. To anyone watching, she appears completely overcome with relief and concern, a woman reunited with her beloved after a terrifying separation. But her lips brush against my ear, and she whispers, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss that only I can hear: ¡°Did these people kidnap you?¡± The threat in those words is unmistakable. But looking at the Harper family¡¯s confused faces, I know I can¡¯t let that happen. ¡°No, please don¡¯t hurt them,¡± I whisper back frantically, my lips barely moving. ¡°They¡¯re innocent. They thought I was in trouble.¡± Her nails dig deeper into my flesh, a warning, a promise of pain to come. ¡°Then you better fucking play along unless you want them dead,¡± she breathes, her voice like ice against my skin. And just like that, Caterina pulls back, her tear-streaked face transforming into a mask of composed gratitude. She wipes her eyes and turns to address the bewildered Harper family. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry for any trouble my lover has caused,¡± she says, her voice thick with rehearsed emotion. Her hand finds mine, fingers interlacing with mine in a grip that feels more like a shackle than a loving touch. ¡°He¡¯s under my conservatorship. He¡¯s deeply unwell, you see.¡± I stand frozen in place as Caterina¡¯s words hang in the air, her fingers digging into mine with enough force to make my knuckles whiten. Connor steps forward, his face contorted with disbelief. ¡°No,¡± he says, his voice rising with each word, ¡°I don¡¯t believe that for a second.¡± His eyes lock with mine, searching for confirmation that this is all some terrible mistake. ¡°Adam¡¯s not mentally ill. He told me everything about you, about what you did to him.¡± I shake my head in a panic, trying to signal him to stop. Candice moves to stand beside her daughters, her expression shifting from confusion to dawning recognition. ¡°Wait a minute,¡± she says slowly, her eyes widening as she studies Caterina¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯re Caterina De Luca?¡± The name seems to expand in the room, filling every corner with its weight. Caterina¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t waver, though I feel her grip tighten fractionally on my hand. ¡°The real estate mogul,¡± Candice continues. She turns to me, understanding blooming across her features like a time-lapse of a flower opening. ¡°You were running away from Caterina De Luca.¡± The silence that follows feels like glass about to shatter. I open my mouth, but no words come out. What could I possibly say that wouldn¡¯t make this situation worse? Cat pulls me closer, her arm sliding around me in a gesture that might look loving to an outsider but feels like a viper coiling around its prey. ¡°My poor baby had a bit of an outburst yesterday,¡± she says, her voice dripping with practiced concern. ¡°I think we got some of his dosages wrong.¡± She strokes my hair with her free hand, her touch surprisingly gentle. ¡°He¡¯s been struggling with delusions for some time now.¡± She nods to Maddy, who steps forward with a manila folder I hadn¡¯t noticed before. Maddy extracts several official-looking documents, her movements precise and unhurried as she hands them to Caterina. ¡°I have all the necessary paperwork right here,¡± Caterina says, offering the documents to Candice with a smile that doesn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°Medical evaluations, court orders, everything that establishes my legal guardianship.¡± Maddy clears her throat, her voice carrying the authoritative tone of law enforcement despite the fraudulent uniform she wears. ¡°If you try to keep him here any longer we would have to charge you with kidnapping, ma¡¯am.¡± June steps closer to her mother, eyes narrowing as she examines the documents. ¡°These look legitimate,¡± she murmurs, her voice laced with reluctance. Connor steps forward, his face flushed with anger. ¡°Bullshit!¡± he exclaims, voice rising in defiance. ¡°This is complete bullshit! Adam told me everything about her. She¡¯s dangerous, she¡¯s not his guardian, she¡¯s keeping him prisoner!¡± Through gritted teeth and wide eyes, I say, ¡°Shut the fuck up, Connor. She¡¯s right. I¡¯m sick. I was just using you people.¡± I pray to god he sees this as my plea to stop kicking the hornets nest. The words feel like broken glass in my mouth, each syllable cutting deeper than the last. Connor recoils as if I¡¯ve physically struck him, confusion washing over his features. But I maintain my desperate stare, silently begging him to understand without words. ¡°Adam,¡± he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°What are you talking about? You would nev¡­ ¡°I said, SHUT UP!¡± I snap, my voice cracking with the strain of maintaining this terrible lie. ¡°It¡¯s over, okay? I was just... I was confused. I need my medication. I need to go home with Cat.¡± Caterina gives me an evil smirk. It seems she¡¯s pleased with my choice. ¡°He creates these elaborate fantasies about being held captive, about me being some sort of villain.¡± She sighs dramatically, looking at the Harper family with eyes that glisten with manufactured tears. ¡°It¡¯s heartbreaking to witness, truly.¡± Candice stares at me with piercing intensity, her warm brown eyes searching mine as though trying to read the truth written in invisible ink beneath my skin. Her fingers grip the fraudulent papers so tightly that the edges crumple, and I notice the slight tremor in her hands, the same hands that had traced patterns across my skin just hours ago. ¡®Please don¡¯t try to play a hero.¡¯ I pray. Candice¡¯s gaze flicks between me and Caterina. I see recognition dawn in Candice¡¯s eyes, she understands what¡¯s happening, reads the terror beneath my carefully constructed mask. Her shoulders slump, defeat written in the downward curve of her lips and the softening of her stance. The fight drains from her visibly, like water swirling down a drain, leaving behind only resignation. ¡°There¡¯s... there¡¯s nothing I can do,¡± Candice says. ¡°She really is your legal guardian, Adam.¡± Connor takes a step toward me, his face contorted with disbelief and betrayal. ¡°Adam, this is insane. You¡¯re not sick¡­¡± I cut him off, stepping forward with a desperation that makes my movements jerky and uncoordinated. My voice drops to a barely audible whisper as I lean in close to Connor¡¯s ear, my lips barely moving. ¡°If you want your new family to live, you have to let me go. I¡¯m not joking.¡± The words hang between us like a physical thing, heavy and terrible. Connor¡¯s eyes widen, pupils dilating with shock as he searches my face. His gaze roams over my features, taking in the silent plea in my eyes, the rigid tension in my jaw, the fear that I can no longer fully disguise. He sees it all. Reads it in my expression like a book written in a language only he understands. The color drains from his face. ¡°Adam, this isn¡¯t right,¡± he says, his voice catching on the words. There¡¯s a tremor in his hands now, a slight shake that betrays the storm of emotions churning beneath his carefully controlled exterior. ¡°But it¡¯s what I want,¡± I lie, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. Each syllable feels like swallowing broken glass, sharp and painful, cutting me from the inside out. June steps forward, her movements deliberate and calm despite the tension crackling in the air. She places a gentle hand on Connor¡¯s shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt with subtle restraint. ¡°Even if we want to, honey, there¡¯s nothing we can do right now,¡± she says softly, her voice carrying the weight of resigned pragmatism. Her eyes never leave my face. Caterina shifts beside me, her presence a cold shadow at my side. Her crimson eyes scan the room with calculated precision, taking in every detail, every nuance of the interaction. Her lips curve into a smile that doesn¡¯t reach her eyes, perfect white teeth gleaming behind blood-red lips. ¡°Baby, where¡¯s the duffel bag?¡± she asks, her voice honey-sweet with an undercurrent of steel that makes my skin crawl. ¡°It¡¯s in the guest room,¡± I reply mechanically, my own voice sounding distant and unfamiliar to my ears. ¡°I¡¯ll go grab it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll come with you,¡± Caterina says immediately, her fingers digging into my arm with bruising force as she steers me toward the stairs. The ascent feels like climbing a mountain, each step requiring more effort than the last. The second we walk into the room, the warmth of the morning light filtering through the curtains does nothing to dispel the chill that settles over me. The rumpled sheets of the bed where Candice and I had lain just hours before seem to scream our transgression to the silent walls. The duffel bag sits innocuously by the nightstand. Caterina¡¯s fingers release my arm as she steps fully into the room. She inhales deeply, her nostrils flaring slightly. Her entire body goes still, like a predator that¡¯s caught the scent of blood. The temperature seems to drop several degrees as her crimson eyes scan the disheveled bed, the discarded clothing partially visible beneath it, the unmistakable intimate atmosphere that lingers in the air. Her eyes darken, pupils expanding until they nearly swallow the red iris completely. When she turns to face me, her expression is devoid of all emotion, a mask of porcelain perfection that¡¯s somehow more terrifying than any display of rage. ¡°Why does it smell like your cum in here, Adam?¡± Chapter 31: lt’s Only Smellz "Why does it smell like your cum in here, Adam?" she asks, her voice soft and flat, lacking any inflection whatsoever. The question hangs in the air between us, sharp as a blade and twice as dangerous. I gulp hard, my throat suddenly bone dry. The air feels like it''s being sucked out of the room, leaving nothing but the oppressive silence between us and the thundering of my heart against my ribcage. "I was horny last night, so I blasted some ropes before I went to bed," I lie, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It must have gotten on the sheets." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears, strained and pitched slightly too high. Sweat beads at my hairline despite the morning chill. The lie hangs between us, pathetically transparent. Caterina''s expression doesn''t change. Not a single muscle in her face twitches. She remains perfectly, terrifyingly still, like a statue carved from ice. Only her eyes move, drifting from my face to the rumpled sheets, then to a strand of brown hair on the pillow that clearly isn''t mine. "Interesting," she finally says, the word dropping from her lips like a stone into still water. She steps closer to the bed, reaching down to run her manicured fingers over the sheets. She lifts them to her face, inhaling deeply, her nostrils flaring slightly. Something dark and primal flashes across her features, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it. Without another word, she turns on her heel and strides toward the door, her movements fluid and predatory. "Cat, wait¡­" I yell, my voice full of fear. She doesn''t stop. Doesn''t even acknowledge that I''ve spoken. She simply glides out of the room with deadly purpose, her cream-colored pantsuit a stark contrast against the homey floral wallpaper of the hallway. I stumble after her, my hangover and terror making my movements clumsy. I reach the bottom of the staircase just in time to see Caterina step into the living room where the Harper family and Connor have gathered in tense silence. Lara and Maddy hover near the entrance, their postures alert despite their casual expressions. Caterina''s face transforms before my eyes, rage blooming across her features like a time-lapse of a deadly flower opening. Her crimson eyes blaze with unholy fire. "WHICH ONE OF YOU PUT YOUR GRUBBY LITTLE HANDS ON MY LOVER?" she screams, the sudden violence of her voice shattering the tense quiet. The silence that follows Caterina''s outburst is absolute as if all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. Everyone stands frozen, a scene of shock and fear. June''s hand grips Connor''s arm so tightly her knuckles have gone white. April stands rigid, her eyes darting between Caterina and me, calculating something I can''t begin to fathom. Gabby has backed against the wall, her usually confident posture crumpled into something small and defensive. But it''s Candice who moves first. She steps forward, her chin lifting slightly as she meets Caterina''s burning gaze. There''s no fear in her stance, only resignation mixed with a strange, guilty like look. The morning light streaming through the windows catches the silver strands in her brown hair, illuminating them like threads of courage woven through ordinary life. "I''m really sorry," Candice says, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her hands. Her eyes flicker briefly to me, a look that contains an apology. "It was me th¡­" Before she can finish her confession, Caterina''s hand moves with terrifying speed. The gun appears as if conjured from thin air, an extension of her rage made manifest in cold steel. There''s no hesitation, no warning, just three deafening cracks that rip through the fabric of normality. The first bullet catches Candice square between the eyes, her expression still locked in that mixture of defiance and regret. The second and third shots are pure malice, striking her already falling body. Blood blooms across her chest like terrible flowers, crimson spreading across the fabric of her robe. Candice crumples to the floor, the soft thud of her body hitting the hardwood somehow louder than the gunshots themselves. A dark halo begins to spread beneath her head, the rich brown of her hair now indistinguishable from the growing pool of blood. The Harper sisters'' screams blend together into a single wail of anguish that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Connor lunges forward, his face contorted with horror and disbelief, but June and April hold him back, their instinct for self-preservation momentarily stronger than their grief. My vision tunnels, the edges going dark as I stare at Candice''s motionless form. The room tilts sickeningly around me, reality distorting like a funhouse mirror reflecting the worst nightmare imaginable. Caterina stands over Candice''s body, the gun still smoking in her hand. Her cream pantsuit remains immaculate, not a single droplet of blood marring its pristine surface. Caterina''s crimson eyes burn with unholy fury as she turns to her accomplices. "Lara, Maddy," she says, her voice terrifyingly calm now, like the eye of a hurricane. "Finish the rest off." Maddy nods with practiced efficiency, her hand already reaching for the weapon holstered beneath her fake police uniform. But beside her, Lara hesitates. For a fraction of a second, something flickers across her face, revulsion, perhaps, or fear before her features smooth back into their usual mask of cold professionalism. My hand moves before my mind can fully process what I''m doing. The weight of the gun, hidden in my waistband all this time, is suddenly in my palm, the metal warm from pressing against my skin. In one fluid motion, I raise it not toward Caterina or her henchwomen but to my own temple. The barrel is cold against my skin, a small circle of ice that somehow burns. "Wait," I say, but the word barely comes out despite the cavernous silence that follows Candice''s murder. Caterina slowly turns toward me, the gun still hanging casually from her hand as if it weighs nothing. For a heartbeat, her eyes hold that familiar loving gaze, the one that made me feel like the center of her universe, precious and irreplaceable. Her lips part slightly, as if she''s about to say something kind. "I know you''re bad with bodies¡­" she begins, her voice honey-sweet. Then she sees the gun pressed against my temple. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The transformation is instantaneous. The loving expression dissolves, replaced by naked terror that strips away all her carefully constructed masks. Her perfect composure shatters like fine china thrown against concrete, revealing the raw, desperate woman beneath. Her face drains of color, the blood rushing from her cheeks so quickly it leaves her looking ghostly against the backdrop of her golden hair. Her crimson eyes widen, pupils dilating with fear as they lock onto the barrel pressed against my skin. "Adam," she whispers, my name a broken thing in her mouth. "What are you doing?" I''m sobbing now, tears streaming unchecked down my face, my vision blurring as I struggle to keep the gun steady against my temple. My entire body shakes with the force of my grief, my breath coming in ragged gasps that tear at my throat. "You can''t kill them," I plead, my voice cracking. "Please. Caterina, please, you can''t kill them." My finger trembles against the trigger, applying just enough pressure to make my intentions clear. The cold metal digs into my skin, the weight of it both terrifying and comforting in its finality. "They''re innocent," I continue, each word pushed through the vise of my constricted throat. "Connor is my friend. My only friend. Please." Caterina takes a single step toward me, her hand outstretched as if to bridge the impossible distance between us. Her face contorts with a mixture of rage and desperation, the conflict visible in every line of her body. "Put the gun down, Adam," she says, her voice unnaturally calm despite the panic in her eyes. "You know I can''t live without you." "Let them go," I choke out, pressing the gun harder against my temple, metal biting into my skin. "Let them live, and I''ll come with you willingly. I''ll never try to escape again. I''ll be yours completely." My voice breaks on the last word, tears streaming down my face in hot, salty tracks. "I swear I''ll pull the trigger if you hurt them." The words come out with surprising steadiness despite the tremor in my hand. "Is that what you want? To watch me die right in front of you? Because I will. I''ll do it, Cat." Caterina stands frozen, her crimson eyes wide with naked fear. Her gaze darts between me and the Harper sisters, calculating, weighing options, searching for a way out that doesn''t end with my brains splattered across the quaint living room wallpaper. She looks toward the family with pure disdain, her upper lip curling slightly. They huddle together near the wall, June and April flanking Connor protectively while Gabby kneels beside her mother''s body, shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she clutches Candice''s lifeless hand. Maddy has her gun trained on them, her expression professionally blank despite the chaos unfolding around her. But I can see the uncertainty in her stance, the slight hesitation in her trigger finger as she waits for Caterina''s command. "Wait!" Connor suddenly shouts, his voice cracking with desperation. "Uhhh... pin the murder on me! Right?" His eyes dart wildly between Caterina and her associates, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "That way, if we ever say anything, I''ll go down for it. You''ll have leverage forever." The silence that follows his suggestion stretches like taffy, thick and uncomfortable. Connor''s chest heaves with ragged breaths, his face pale with terror but eyes bright with desperate calculation. It''s a terrible plan, hastily conceived in the grip of fear, but I see what he''s trying to do, create an option, any option, that doesn''t end with everyone dead. Lara breaks the silence, her head tilting like a curious bird examining something unusual. "Boss," she says, her singsong voice incongruously light against the backdrop of death and despair, "I can probably make that work." Caterina''s eyes narrow, surprise flickering across her perfect features. "Yeah?" Lara nods, a calculating gleam replacing the momentary hesitation in her eyes. "It''s actually perfect. We stage it like a breaking and entering gone wrong. But if anyone talks, we can just say Connor killed the mother in a jealous rage when he found out about Adam, then we leave his prints on the gun. They''ll never talk because he''d go down for murder." My hand trembles against my temple, the gun growing heavier with each passing second. The barrel digs into my skin, cold metal warming against my flesh as sweat beads along my hairline. "Maddy?" Caterina asks, her voice carefully controlled as she turns toward her other lieutenant. Maddy stares at the gun pressed to my head. Her eyes flick between me and Caterina, assessing the situation with the cold calculation of someone who''s survived by making the right calls in impossible situations. "We''d have to have someone watch them," she says finally, her tone measured and pragmatic. "Someone to ensure they never talk. Ever." "Fine, fine!" Connor yells, his voice cracking with desperation. He steps forward despite June''s restraining hand on his arm. "Put someone on us. Have us followed. Whatever you want. Just please don''t kill anyone else." The Harper sisters stand frozen, grief and terror etched into every line of their bodies. June stands slightly apart, her eyes locked on Connor with an expression of mingled horror and heartbreaking loyalty. Caterina''s gaze darts between them, then back to me, her crimson eyes calculating beneath the veneer of panic. I can almost see the wheels turning behind those eyes, weighing options, measuring risks, searching for the solution that gives her what she wants with minimal complications. "Adam," she says, my name soft on her lips as she takes another cautious step toward me. "Please put the gun down. We can work this out." I shake my head, pressing the barrel harder against my temple. "Promise me," I demand, my voice steadier than I feel. "Promise me they live. All of them." Something shifts in Caterina''s expression, a subtle change that transforms her face from merely beautiful to almost angelic in its sincerity. "I promise," she says, and for a moment, I believe her completely. "Just come home with me, baby. Please." "I don''t believe you." My eyes drift to the still form on the floor, the spreading pool of crimson beneath her head. Candice is gone, erased from existence because of me because I brought this darkness to her doorstep. "ADAM, JUST PUT THE FUCKING GUN DOWN, MAN!" Connor screams, his voice cracking with raw panic. His eyes are wide with terror, not for himself but for me. "PLEASE! We''ll figure this out! Just don''t¡­ don''t do this!" The desperation in his voice cuts through me like a knife. The thought of Connor watching me die sends a fresh wave of anguish through my body, making the gun waver slightly against my skin. Caterina sees the hesitation, the fractional loosening of my grip. Her crimson eyes soften, filling with tears that look genuine. "Baby," she whispers, taking another cautious step toward me, her hand outstretched like she''s approaching a wounded animal. "Please. I love you. We can start over." The familiar words wash over me, and for a moment, I feel myself weakening. The weight of the gun seems to increase tenfold, pulling at muscles grown tired from tension and fear. My arm begins to lower, just slightly, the barrel inching away from my temple in tiny increments that feel like miles. "That''s it," Caterina encourages. "Come back to me." My arm lowers another fraction of an inch, the barrel now angled slightly away from my head. "Just let go, baby. Let me take care of everything." She takes another step toward me. Her hand reaches out, fingers stretching toward the gun with agonizing slowness. The gun drifts lower, my arm finally surrendering to Caterina as she takes it from me. "Good boy," she says, the words no longer warm but mechanical, a reward dispensed to a pet that has finally obeyed. She slips my gun into her pocket, then reaches into her blazer and produces a zip tie. I don''t resist as she takes my wrists, binding them together with swift, economical movements. The plastic bites into my skin, too tight, cutting off circulation in tiny increments that will become agony in the hours to come. But I barely notice the physical pain. My eyes are fixed on Connor and the Harper sisters, their faces frozen in grief and terror. "I''m sorry," I mouth silently to them as Caterina grips my bound wrists and begins pulling me toward the door. Caterina pauses at the threshold, turning back to survey the scene with the critical eye of a director assessing a stage set. Her crimson gaze lingers on Candice''s body, the spreading pool of blood, the weeping family huddled against the wall. "Lara, Maddy," she says, her voice crisp and businesslike, all traces of earlier emotion carefully erased. "Get this fucking corpse set up. Make it look convincing." Lara nods as Caterina hand her a gun. Her blue eyes gleaming with renewed enthusiasm now that the crisis has passed. She moves toward Candice''s body with the eager efficiency of someone who enjoys their work far too much. Caterina glances at the Harper sisters, her expression coldly appraising. "Help the family make a convincing story? Make sure they understand what happens if they ever breathe a word about what really happened here today." The sunlight streaming through the open door feels obscene against the darkness that has descended upon this house. Caterina pulls me across the threshold and onto the porch, the morning air cool against my tear-streaked face. A black SUV waits at the curb, engine running, tinted windows revealing nothing of what''s inside. "Everything''s going to be okay now," Caterina whispers as she guides me down the steps, her voice a grotesque parody of comfort. "You''re coming home where you belong." A/N:This is the end of Volume 1 but we''re just gonna keep on trucking. Chapter 32: Stop The black SUV¡¯s interior smells of expensive leather. The privacy partition is up, sealing us away from whoever¡¯s driving. Tinted windows turn the bright morning into twilight, casting everything in shadow except for Caterina¡¯s face, which catches what little light filters through. My zip-tied hands rest uselessly in my lap. The plastic cuts into my skin with every bump in the road, but that pain feels distant compared to the hollow ache spreading through my chest. Candice¡¯s face flashes in my mind, her kind eyes, her warm smile, the way she looked when the bullet hit her, and I have to swallow back bile. Caterina pulls me against her, arms wrapping around me in an embrace that feels like a straitjacket. Her fingers dig into my shoulder as she presses her cheek against mine. I can feel her trembling slightly, her breathing uneven. Is it rage? Relief? I can¡¯t tell anymore. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I would have done if you ended your life, baby,¡± she whispers, her breath hot against my ear. Her voice cracks with what sounds like genuine emotion. ¡°Don¡¯t you understand? You¡¯re everything to me. Everything.¡± The words hang between us, heavy with a terrible truth. She really would have broken if I¡¯d pulled that trigger. The knowledge gives me no comfort, only confirms the sickness of what exists between us. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I manage to say. She pulls back just enough to look at me, her crimson eyes searching my face with desperate intensity. For a moment, she looks almost human, vulnerable, afraid, a woman terrified of losing the one thing she values most. Then something shifts, hardens, and she¡¯s Caterina De Luca again, the woman who executed Candice Harper without hesitation. Her arms tighten around me until it¡¯s difficult to breathe, her manicured nails digging into my skin through the thin fabric of my borrowed t-shirt. ¡°Suffice to say, if you ever run away again, I¡¯ll kill that family, okay?¡± Her voice is gentle, almost conversational like she¡¯s discussing dinner plans instead of murder. ¡°Not just the daughters. I¡¯ll find every aunt, uncle, cousin. Every. Single. One.¡± I nod mechanically, my eyes fixed on a point past her shoulder, unable to meet her gaze. ¡°Use your words, Adam,¡± she says, one hand moving to grip my chin, forcing me to look at her. Her thumb traces my lower lip with deceptive tenderness. ¡°I understand,¡± I say, the words bitter as ash on my tongue. ¡®I¡¯m trapped. Forever. My life is over. What do I even do now?¡¯ The SUV glides through the streets of Salem, the familiar landmarks of the town blurring past the tinted windows. With each mile we travel, I feel myself sinking deeper into despair. She watches me with an unsettling intensity, her crimson eyes never leaving my face as though she¡¯s afraid I might somehow vanish if she looks away. ¡°Do you remember what I told you before?¡± Caterina asks suddenly, breaking the heavy silence that has settled between us. Her voice is deceptively soft, almost tender, but there¡¯s an undercurrent of something dark and terrible beneath the surface. ¡°What I said would happen if you ever tried to run away from me?¡± My heart stutters in my chest, a frantic rhythm that seems to echo in the confined space of the vehicle. ¡°I... I don¡¯t remember,¡± I whisper. Something shifts in her expression, a subtle hardening that transforms her beauty into something terrible to behold. Her crimson eyes go cold. ¡°I said I would make you feel pain you didn¡¯t even know was possible,¡± she says, each word precise and measured, delivered with the careful deliberation of someone selecting instruments for surgery. ¡°Pain beyond your imagination, Adam. Pain that would rewrite your understanding of suffering.¡± ¡®Fuck me, dude.¡¯ Her fingers trace a path along my jaw, the touch so light it might be gentle if not for the threat behind it. I find myself trembling beneath her caress, unable to control the instinctive response of my body to the danger it senses. ¡°Are you still going to do that?¡± I ask, hating the way my voice breaks on the question, betraying the fear that courses through me like poison. A smile curves her perfect lips, not reaching her eyes, which remain as cold and unforgiving as winter. ¡°Do good owners not punish their pets when they act up?¡± she asks, her head tilting slightly as though genuinely curious about my answer. Her words settle over me like a shroud, heavy and suffocating. The SUV¡¯s interior seems to shrink around us, the leather seats no longer luxurious but confining, trapping me with this beautiful monster who holds my life between her manicured fingers. ¡°Please,¡± I whisper, the word escaping before I can stop it. ¡°I won¡¯t ever try to run again.¡± Caterina¡¯s expression softens for a fraction of a second, something almost like pain flickering in those crimson depths before hardening once more. ¡°I believed you the first time you said that. And yet, here we are.¡± ¡°Please, Cat,¡± I beg, beyond caring how pathetic I sound. ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt me.¡± A tear spills over, tracking a hot path down my cheek. Her grip in my hair tightens, the pain sharp enough to make my eyes water. She draws my face closer to hers until I can feel her breath against my lips, warm and sweet despite the venom in her words. ¡°Don¡¯t beg me,¡± she says quietly as her free hand comes up to wipe away the tear on my cheek. ¡°It only makes this harder.¡± Her arms encircle me, pulling me against her chest where I can hear her heartbeat, steady and strong, while mine races with terror. ¡°Please stop making me have to hurt you,¡± she mutters into my hair, her voice thick with what sounds almost like genuine anguish. ¡°Why can¡¯t you just love me the way I need you to? Why must you force my hand this way?¡± S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The twisted logic of her statement leaves me speechless. As if I¡¯m the one inflicting pain as if her actions are somehow my responsibility. It¡¯s the same warped reasoning she¡¯s used since the beginning, slowly eroding my sense of reality until I began to question my own perceptions. ***** The penthouse elevator doors slide closed behind us, sealing away the outside world with a soft pneumatic hiss. I stare straight ahead, my bound wrists throbbing in time with my racing heart as Caterina guides me down the familiar hallway. The penthouse feels more like a funeral home tonight. We stop before an unfamiliar door, one I¡¯ve never noticed during my time here. It¡¯s heavy, solid wood with a deadbolt lock that requires a key rather than the electronic keypads that secure the rest of the penthouse. The door swings open with a soft creak that raises the hair on the back of my neck. My stomach drops as we step inside. This isn¡¯t a guest room. It¡¯s something else entirely. The space is clinically bright, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that leave no corner in shadow. An old medical table dominates the space, its metal frame stained with rust-colored spatters that no amount of cleaning could fully remove. Thick leather restraints hang from each corner, worn and darkened from frequent use. At the center of the table sits a hammer, plain and ordinary, the kind you¡¯d find in any hardware store. Its everyday normality makes it somehow more terrifying. And beside the table stands Doctor Ramirez. The same woman who treated me when I first arrived in this world, who smiled professionally while explaining my ¡°condition¡± to me. She¡¯s arranging medical supplies on a steel tray with methodical precision, syringes, vials of clear liquid, gauze, and other instruments I don¡¯t recognize and don¡¯t want to understand. A hospital bed sits against the far wall, pristine white sheets pulled tight across its surface. Monitoring equipment stands ready nearby, powered down but waiting. A chill runs through me, so violent I nearly lose my balance. My legs threaten to give way beneath me as the full implications of this room crash over me like a wave. ¡°What¡¯s the hammer for?¡± The question escapes my lips before I can stop it, my voice hardly more than a whisper. Caterina¡¯s hand slides up my back to rest at the nape of my neck, her touch deceptively gentle. ¡°Use your imagination, Adam,¡± she replies, her breath warm against my ear. Doctor Ramirez looks up from her preparations, her expression clinically detached as she surveys us. Her dark eyes land on me, taking in my disheveled appearance, my bound wrists, the terror I can¡¯t hide. Doctor Ramirez adjusts her glasses, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the lenses and momentarily obscuring her eyes. She wears her white lab coat, impeccably pressed, not a single wrinkle marring its clinical perfection. ¡°I¡¯ve prepared everything as requested,¡± she says, her voice devoid of emotion as she gestures toward the medical table. ¡°Though I should note that without proper anesthesia, the subject will experience extreme distress.¡± Caterina¡¯s fingers tighten at the nape of my neck, her nails digging into my skin just enough to let me know she could break the surface if she wanted to. ¡°That¡¯s the point, Doctor.¡± My eyes dart around the room, desperate for any sign of mercy, any hint that this is just an elaborate scare tactic. But the clinical efficiency of the space, the ready instruments, the waiting restraints, they all speak to a terrible purpose that¡¯s been planned with meticulous care. Doctor Ramirez¡¯s gaze drifts to me, studying my face with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing a lab specimen. ¡°You¡¯re sure? You really don¡¯t want him to have any anesthetic,¡± she states, not a question but a confirmation of something she already knows the answer to. I wince, the word escaping my lips like a wounded animal¡¯s cry. ¡°Fuck.¡± The tears come slowly at first, then faster, hot tracks down my cheeks that I can¡¯t wipe away with my bound hands. My body begins to tremble, a fine vibration that starts in my core and works its way outward until I¡¯m visibly shaking. Caterina watches my breakdown with an expression that might almost be mistaken for tenderness if not for the cold calculation in her crimson eyes. She reaches out to brush away a tear with her thumb, the gesture grotesquely gentle. ¡°He needs to learn his lesson properly,¡± she says, her voice soft but unyielding. ¡°Pain creates lasting memories, Doctor. I want him to remember this every time he thinks about leaving me.¡± ¡°Alright, Boss.¡± Chapter 33: Hammer Time Caterina pushes me toward the table, her hands surprisingly strong against my back. Each step feels like walking toward my own execution, my feet dragging against the polished floor as if they¡¯ve developed their own survival instinct. ¡°Wait, wait, wait!¡± I cry out, my voice breaking into a desperate sob that echoes off the sterile walls. ¡°Please, Cat, please don¡¯t do this!¡± My vision blurs with tears, the clinical room swimming before me. The leather restraints hang from the table like predatory vines waiting to ensnare me. The hammer sits in the center, ordinary and terrible in its simplicity. ¡°This is too far, please!¡± My words tumble out between heaving breaths, my chest constricting so tightly I can barely draw air. ¡°I understand now. I won¡¯t ever try to leave again. I swear to God!¡± Caterina¡¯s hand slides up to grip the back of my neck, fingers digging into the tender flesh with precise pressure. She guides me forward with the casual expertise of someone who¡¯s done this before, who knows exactly how much force to apply to keep me moving despite my resistance. ¡°You don¡¯t understand yet,¡± she says, her voice soft and almost maternal in its patience. ¡°But that¡¯s okay. There¡¯s time to learn yet.¡± She tries to push me into the chair, but I plant my feet, my body rigid with resistance. ¡°No!¡± I yell, the word tearing from my throat. My muscles strain against her grip, adrenaline giving me a burst of desperate strength. Caterina¡¯s expression darkens, her crimson eyes flashing with dangerous impatience. ¡°Do you want me to kill the family I just so graciously saved, Adam?¡± Her voice drops to a venomous whisper. ¡°Is that what you want?¡± The fight drains from me instantly, like water rushing down a drain. I close my eyes tight and sit down, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw aches. My body trembles uncontrollably, sweat beading on my forehead despite the room¡¯s clinical chill. ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± I whisper, the words barely audible through my constricted throat. ¡°Please don¡¯t do this.¡± She begins methodically strapping my arms into the leather restraints, her movements precise and unhurried. The leather is cold against my skin, clearly worn from previous use that I don¡¯t want to think about. Each strap tightens with a finality that sends fresh waves of terror coursing through me. ¡°Adam,¡± she says conversationally, as if we¡¯re discussing dinner plans rather than my imminent torture, ¡°why is it you never say ¡®I love you¡¯ back when I say it to you?¡± The question catches me off guard, so absurd in this context that for a moment, I can¡¯t process it. Then panic surges through me, desperate for any chance to delay what¡¯s coming. ¡°I do love you,¡± I blurt out, the lie tasting like ash on my tongue. Caterina scoffs, her lips curving into a mocking smile that doesn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡± She laughs, the sound brittle and hollow in the sterile room. ¡°But you will.¡± She finishes securing the final strap with a sharp tug. ¡°Not today, of course. Probably not tomorrow. But you will love me.¡± She steps around to the other side of the table, her movements fluid and predatory. My eyes follow her hand as it reaches for the hammer, lifting it with casual ease. The overhead lights catch on the metal head, gleaming dully against the worn wooden handle. ¡°Please, please, don¡¯t do this,¡± I sob, my voice breaking into fragments like shattered glass. Tears stream down my face uncontrollably, my body trembling so violently the restraints rattle against the metal frame. ¡°Caterina, I¡¯ll do anything you want. Anything. Just please, not this.¡± Caterina¡¯s perfect features harden, her crimson eyes narrowing as she stares down at me. ¡°Stop talking, Adam,¡± she says, her voice flat and cold. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to call me Cat, remember?¡± She reaches for the hammer, her fingers wrapping around the wooden handle with practiced ease. The fluorescent lights catch on the metal head as she lifts it. ¡°Doc, stay close,¡± she instructs, her gaze never leaving my face as Doctor Ramirez steps forward, a syringe held carefully between her fingers. My eyes dart to the needle, panic surging through me with renewed force. ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± I gasp between sobs, pulling frantically against the restraints that hold me immobile. Caterina¡¯s lips curve into something between a smile and a grimace. ¡°The aftercare,¡± she says simply as if the words explain everything. She positions herself beside the table, her stance widening slightly as she adjusts her grip on the hammer. Her eyes lock with mine for one terrible moment. She looks sadder than I anticipated. The hammer rises in a smooth arc above my outstretched right hand. Time seems to slow, stretching like taffy as I watch the hammer¡¯s descent with horrified fascination. I can¡¯t look away, can¡¯t close my eyes, can¡¯t escape the terrible certainty of what¡¯s about to happen. The impact is beyond anything I could have imagined. The hammer crashes down with all her strength onto my right hand, and the world explodes into white-hot agony. The sound that tears from my throat doesn¡¯t even sound human, a primal scream of pain so intense it transcends language, transcends thought, transcends everything except the all-consuming fire radiating from my shattered bones. Through the haze of unimaginable pain, I see Caterina¡¯s face transform. The cold determination melts away, replaced by something that looks almost like horror. Her perfect composure cracks, revealing a glimpse of something human beneath the monster. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Fuck me, I can¡¯t do it like this,¡± she says, her voice tight with an emotion I can¡¯t identify through my fog of agony. She looks away from my mangled hand, her gaze finding Doctor Ramirez. ¡°Knock him out.¡± The doctor hesitates, her clinical detachment momentarily cracked by the raw animal sounds tearing from my throat. My vision swims with tears and black spots as the pain radiates from my shattered hand. I feel the individual fragments of bone grinding against each other, the warm wetness of blood pooling beneath my palm. ¡°What the fuck are you doing? Knock him out now!¡± Caterina screams, her voice strained with an emotion I¡¯ve never heard from her before. The hammer trembles in her grip, a thin spatter of my blood visible on her cream-colored sleeve. ¡°I¡¯ll keep going when he¡¯s asleep.¡± ¡®Kill me. Please.¡¯ Doctor Ramirez moves with sudden urgency, stepping forward with the syringe already prepared. ¡°Hold still,¡± she murmurs, though the instruction is meaningless. I couldn¡¯t move if I wanted to, trapped by both restraints and the paralyzing pain that has frozen every muscle in my body. The needle slides into my neck with barely a pinprick, insignificant compared to the inferno consuming my hand. The liquid enters my bloodstream, cool and strange, spreading outward from the injection site with alarming speed. ¡°Count backward from ten,¡± Doctor Ramirez instructs, her voice suddenly distant as if she¡¯s speaking from the end of a long tunnel. ¡°Ten... nine...¡± I manage the words slurring together as my tongue grows heavy in my mouth. The ceiling lights blur and double above me, bright haloes expanding and contracting with each labored breath. ¡°Eight... sev...¡± The pain doesn¡¯t disappear, but it transforms, becoming something abstract and faraway, like watching a storm through thick glass. My eyelids grow impossibly heavy, each blink lasting longer than the one before. Caterina¡¯s face hovers above mine, her features distorted by tears. I didn¡¯t notice she was crying. Her lips move, forming words I can no longer hear. Something wet falls on my cheek. Her tear or mine, I can¡¯t tell anymore. One of my last conscious thought before the darkness claims me completely is that perhaps the only way to survive in my new life is to accept the monster that holds my strings. ¡®God, are you there? It¡¯s me, Adam. Kill yourself.¡¯ A/N: Short chapter just kinda wanted to get through this one. Chapter 34: Bound 2 I float back to consciousness like a balloon drifting lazily upward, disconnected from gravity, from reality, from pain. The world comes into focus in fragments, the soft beep of monitoring equipment, the antiseptic smell of hospital disinfectant, the weight of something warm pressed against my back. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy, but I manage to pry them open. The room spins slightly before settling into focus, the same clinical space from before, but now bathed in dim, gentle light instead of harsh fluorescence. I¡¯m no longer strapped to that terrible table but lying in the hospital bed I¡¯d noticed earlier. Something doesn¡¯t feel right. My arms feel weird, heavy, and distant like they belong to someone else. With tremendous effort, I tilt my chin down to look at my hands, and what I see doesn¡¯t immediately register through the haze of whatever drugs are coursing through my system. Both of my hands are encased in massive white casts that extend halfway up my forearms. They look comically large, like cartoon boxing gloves. I try to wiggle my fingers but feel nothing, no movement, no pain, just a strange, cottony void where sensation should be. ¡°You¡¯re up,¡± comes a soft voice from behind me, slightly raspy and thick with emotion. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I turn my head slowly, the movement feeling underwater-slow and dreamlike. Caterina is curled around me, her slender body molded against my back. Her usually perfect appearance is completely undone, blonde hair tangled and disheveled, her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed from what must have been hours of crying. ¡°Hey,¡± I manage, my voice a dry croak that barely sounds like my own. The word floats out of me, disconnected and distant. Whatever they¡¯ve given me is strong. I feel like I¡¯m wrapped in a blanket made of clouds, drifting somewhere high above my broken body. ¡°Hey,¡± she whispers back, fresh tears welling in her eyes. Her hand reaches up to stroke my hair, fingers trembling slightly as they brush against my forehead. She wraps her arms around me tightly, pulling me against her. Even through the drug-induced haze, I¡¯m aware of her body pressed to mine, her breasts soft against my chest. My body responds automatically, a primal reaction that seems completely disconnected from my broken mental state. I sigh heavily, the sound echoing in the quiet room. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Caterina asks, her voice gentle with concern. ¡°Does something hurt?¡± ¡°No,¡± I mumble, staring up at the ceiling. ¡°It¡¯s just... insane that I can get hard after getting the hammer.¡± A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, starting as a chuckle before growing into something wild and uncontrolled. It doesn¡¯t sound like my laugh at all, more like the desperate sound of someone teetering on the edge of sanity. ¡°My life sucks, dude,¡± I gasp between fits of laughter, tears streaming down my face. ¡°I used to spend all my time reading reverse rape stories, but since I met you, it¡¯s like, my god, is this how they felt? It¡¯s terrifying.¡± Caterina pulls back slightly, her crimson eyes studying my face with a puzzled frown. ¡°Reverse rape?¡± she asks, confusion evident in her voice. I shake my head, the movement sending the room spinning slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t even know how to explain this right now.¡± The laughter dies in my throat, leaving behind a hollow emptiness that seems to echo through my entire being. Caterina¡¯s hand returns to my hair, stroking gently as if soothing a frightened animal. Her touch is tender, loving even, a stark contrast to the woman who brought down the hammer on my hands just hours ago. I stare at my hands, these giant white casts that render my fingers useless. The reality of my situation crashes over me in waves, each one stronger than the last. Through the pharmaceutical haze, a practical concern suddenly surfaces. ¡°Who¡¯s gonna wipe my ass?¡± I blurt out, my voice cracking with hysteria. I look at Caterina with naked terror in my eyes, the enormity of my helplessness finally hitting me. ¡°I can¡¯t even feed myself.¡± Her expression softens, crimson eyes glistening with something between tenderness and possession. ¡°From now on, baby, I¡¯m gonna do everything for you,¡± she whispers, pressing her forehead against mine. ¡°Everything. You won¡¯t have to worry about anything at all.¡± The words should comfort me, but they only deepen the pit of dread in my stomach. Complete dependence. Complete control. No autonomy left, not even for the most basic human functions. I sink into her embrace. There is no more escape, no solace, no hope for freedom. There is only Caterina. Only this twisted version of love that binds us together like barbed wire around a heart. ¡°Cat,¡± I murmur against her shoulder, my voice muffled by the expensive fabric of her blouse, ¡°what happens if I kill myself when you¡¯re not looking?¡± She stiffens against me, her arms tightening to the point of pain. When she pulls back to look at me, her expression has hardened into something dangerous. ¡°Then I¡¯ll kill that boy, Connor,¡± she says simply, each word precise and cold as ice. ¡°Slowly.¡± A broken laugh escapes me, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. Of course. Of course, she would find a way to control me, even in death. My final act of defiance would only result in more suffering for someone I love like a brother. ¡°I talked with Maddy,¡± Caterina continues, her fingers returning to stroke my hair with deceptive gentleness. ¡°She told me you and that guy seem to have a much deeper connection than I initially thought.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing to hide,¡± I say, my words slightly slurred. ¡°He¡¯s my best friend.¡± Caterina sighs, clearly annoyed, but her eyes remain full of sadness. ¡°We¡¯ll discuss this later,¡± she says, rubbing my head as if I were a pet who¡¯d performed a trick almost correctly. ¡°Please,¡± I whisper, my voice cracking like thin ice over deep water. ¡°No more torture, right? You¡¯re done?¡± Caterina¡¯s face hovers above mine, her features softening as she traces a finger along my jawline. Her touch is feather-light, almost reverent. ¡°No more hammer,¡± she assures me, her crimson eyes glistening in the dim light. ¡°Hammers aren¡¯t for good boys.¡± The words should comfort me, but something in her careful phrasing sends a fresh wave of dread coursing through me. I force myself to meet her gaze despite the terror threatening to choke me. ¡°Can you just say no more torture?¡± I ask, hating how small my voice sounds, how desperate. ¡°Please, just say it clearly.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not planning on torturing you if you¡¯re a good boy,¡± she says, each word precisely chosen, leaving room for interpretation that terrifies me more than direct threats. Tears well up unbidden, hot and sudden, spilling over to track down my temples and into my hair. Caterina watches the tears with a mixture of impatience and pity. She sighs again, heavier this time, and brushes the wetness from my face with her thumb. ¡°You¡¯re being a good boy right now, okay?¡± Her voice softens, taking on that maternal tone that both comforts and disturbs me. ¡°Just stay obedient. Don¡¯t pull away, don¡¯t run away, and your life will be wonderful.¡± I swallow hard, my throat clicking dryly. ¡°Can I even play video games anymore?¡± I whisper, lifting my useless, cast-encased hands slightly. ¡°You don¡¯t play video games,¡± Caterina corrects gently as if reminding a child of an established fact. ¡°You just watch YouTube videos of people playing video games.¡± I close my eyes again, tears streaming down my face. ¡°It¡¯s really hard to commit to a game, you know?¡± Caterina strokes my hair, her touch gentle. ¡°Your hands will recover someday, baby,¡± she says softly, her voice carrying a strange tenderness that doesn¡¯t match the monster who wielded the hammer. ¡°They won¡¯t ever be one hundred percent again, but I¡¯m sure with time and physical therapy, you¡¯ll regain function. I¡¯ll teach you how to use them just fine.¡± A small, twisted smile curves her perfect lips as she traces a finger down my chest. ¡°You still need to be able to cup my breasts, remember?¡± ¡®I hate her.¡¯ The casual cruelty of her words, spoken with such affection, breaks something inside me. ¡°Cat, you¡¯re a monster. Like an actual monster from a horror movie.¡± She leans forward, crimson eyes burning into mine, and presses her lips against my mouth. Her tongue forces its way between my lips, invasive and possessive, claiming me completely. When she finally pulls back, her expression is a terrifying mixture of tenderness and pride. ¡°Yes,¡± she agrees, her voice a silken whisper as her fingers continue their gentle exploration of my face. ¡°But I¡¯m your monster, Adam. Forever.¡± She kisses me again. At first, I resist, but the drugs make it hard to struggle. My mind screams to pull away, but my body feels disconnected. Then I let her tongue in. She wraps it around mine. She knows what I like at this point. Every movement calculated, every flick and press designed to draw out the response she wants. After our short time together, she¡¯s mapped my body¡¯s reactions like territory she¡¯s conquered. ¡®If I don¡¯t give in, she might think I¡¯m a bad boy. If I don¡¯t enjoy this, she might think I¡¯m a bad boy. Bad boys get hammers.¡¯ I surrender to her kiss, letting my body respond while my mind retreats to some dark corner where the shame can¡¯t reach. If I have to kiss her anyways, and she¡¯s good at it, is there even a reason to resist? I embrace her kiss fully, responding to her skilled touch despite everything she¡¯s done. A soft moan escapes me, and I feel her smile against my mouth, triumphant. She pulls back slightly, her crimson eyes glittering with satisfaction as she gazes down at me. Her thumb traces my lower lip, still damp from our kiss. ¡°That¡¯s a good boy,¡± she whispers, her voice honeyed and approving. ¡°Showing your mistress love like that goes a long way.¡± Chapter 35: The Pills Have Eyes The light filters through the partially drawn curtains, casting the living room in a soft, hazy glow that matches my mental state. I¡¯m nestled in Caterina¡¯s arms, my head resting against her chest, where I can hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. The casts on my hands feel impossibly heavy, propped up on pillows to keep them elevated. Everything has a dreamlike quality to it, edges blurred and colors too vivid. Caterina¡¯s lips brush against my neck, soft and warm, as we watch some reality show on her massive flatscreen. The Real House husbands of Salt Lake City. Men in designer clothes arguing over petty grievances, their faces contorted with exaggerated emotion as their powerful wives look on with amusement or disappointment. ¡°Look at that Mormon,¡± Caterina murmurs against my skin, her breath tickling my ear. ¡°Acting like such a brat just because his wife bought him the wrong handbag.¡± ¡°Blud is Dramamaxxing,¡± I mutter in my haze, not really following the plot. ¡°What?¡± Caterina looks at me, lost in confusion at my words, but then goes back to kissing my neck. The different medication makes it hard to focus, my thoughts drifting like leaves on a gentle current. Sometimes I¡¯m acutely aware of my surroundings, the weight of Caterina¡¯s arm around me. Other times, I float away, disconnected from everything except the dull throbbing beneath the medication¡¯s haze. Caterina¡¯s phone buzzes on the side table. She shifts slightly to grab it, careful not to jostle my hands. As she checks the screen, a wide smile spreads across her face. ¡°Ahh, baby, it¡¯s pill time,¡± she says, her voice lilting with an almost maternal tenderness. I turn my head toward her, my movements slow and clumsy. ¡°Yayyy,¡± I say, the word dragging out longer than intended, my voice flat and defeated despite the cheerful syllable. Caterina kisses my forehead before gently extracting herself from our embrace. She moves with the grace of a lioness, powerful and dangerous even in moments of apparent domesticity. ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± she instructs, as if I could go anywhere in my condition. I watch her disappear into the kitchen, my eyes tracking her movements with the detached fascination of someone watching fish in an aquarium. The reality show continues, men¡¯s voices rising in argument, but the words wash over me without meaning. Caterina returns with an assortment of pills in her palm, a small plate of Ritz crackers balanced on her forearm, and a glass of water in her other hand. She sets everything down on the coffee table before resuming her position beside me. She delicately picks up one of the Ritz crackers. I open my mouth, allowing her to place it on my tongue. The cracker dissolves slightly, salty and rich, as I chew awkwardly, painfully aware of my complete dependence. ¡°It¡¯s important to always have a little food with pills,¡± she says, her voice soft with practiced concern. ¡°Helps your stomach.¡± I nod mechanically, swallowing the cracker. She feeds me another and another until half the small stack is gone. Her fingers occasionally brush against my lips, lingering just a moment too long, her crimson eyes watching my every movement with an intensity that makes my skin crawl despite the medication¡¯s numbing effect. When she¡¯s satisfied I¡¯ve eaten enough, she selects one of the pills, a small blue oval, and places it on her tongue. Her eyes lock with mine, predatory and seductive all at once. She leans forward. ¡°Okay, open up,¡± she purrs, her voice dropping to that honeyed tone that sends conflicting signals through my drug-addled brain. I part my lips obediently, too tired and broken to resist even this intimate violation of space. She presses her mouth to mine, her tongue sliding the pill between my lips while simultaneously deepening the kiss. The medication tastes bitter for a split second before her tongue distracts me, moving with practiced skill against mine. When she finally pulls away, her eyes gleam with satisfaction. ¡°Good boy,¡± she whispers, running her thumb across my bottom lip. ¡°Let¡¯s do the next one.¡± One by one, she feeds me the remaining pills, each delivered with the same invasive intimacy. By the last pill, the earlier medications are already beginning to take effect, making the edges of the room even softer, Caterina¡¯s face more luminous, the pain in my hands more distant. Once she finishes, she helps me drink water. ¡°There we go,¡± she says, setting the empty glass aside. ¡°All done.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± I sputter out. She gives me a manic smile and says, ¡°I think you have to go the bathroom now, right?¡± I close my eyes and think, trying to assess my own body through the veil of my current state. After a moment, I open them and mumble, ¡°I can¡¯t tell.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go pee just in case, alright?¡± she suggests, her voice sweet and coaxing like she¡¯s talking to a child. I nod and try to get up, but my body feels impossibly heavy, limbs uncoordinated and slow to respond. After a futile attempt to stand, I slump back against the couch cushions. ¡°Oh baby, you need my help, remember?¡± Caterina says, sliding an arm around my waist. Her touch is firm, supportive, yet somehow possessive even in this mundane moment. I lean against her as we walk to the bathroom, my steps uneven and sluggish. The hallway seems to stretch and contract with each step, the walls breathing like living things in my drug-altered perception. The casts on my hands bump awkwardly against my sides. ¡°Are the pills addictive?¡± I ask, the question bubbling up from some still-functioning corner of my mind. Caterina laughs, the sound bright and musical in the narrow hallway. ¡°Are the pills addictive?¡± she repeats as if it¡¯s the funniest joke she¡¯s ever heard. Her crimson eyes dance with amusement, but she doesn¡¯t actually answer my question. We navigate the hallway like two people walking on a ship in stormy seas, my balance compromised by medication, Caterina¡¯s steps careful and measured to match my stumbling pace. The bathroom door looms ahead, the white paint seeming to glow with unnatural brightness in my altered state. ¡°Almost there,¡± Caterina mutters, her arm tight around my waist. The bathroom tiles appear to shift and ripple beneath my feet as we cross the threshold, the cool ceramic sending strange sensations up through my socked feet. The light flickers on automatically. Caterina positions me in front of the toilet, her movements efficient and practiced. Her hands go to the waistband of my sweatpants, tugging them down along with my underwear in one smooth motion. The fabric pools around my ankles, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. ¡°Normally, guys don¡¯t go to the ankle,¡± I mumble in embarrassment. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Caterina¡¯s laugh is light and dismissive as she lifts the toilet seat with her free hand. ¡°Who cares about that?¡± she says, crimson eyes glittering with amusement. She reaches for me, slender fingers wrapping around my cock with confident familiarity. The touch is welcome. ¡°Wait,¡± I protest weakly, swaying slightly on my feet. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I just sit down? It would be easier.¡± Her expression hardens for a moment, a flash of irritation crossing her perfect features. ¡°Shut up,¡± she snaps. Then her gaze drops to my exposed genitals, her expression softening into something almost reverent. She holds me, aiming toward the toilet bowl with the careful attention of someone handling something precious. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, invasive in a way that makes me want to disappear into the floor. An anxious laugh escapes me. ¡°I think I¡¯m nervous,¡± I admit, feeling a strange performance anxiety despite the newly urgent pressure in my bladder. Caterina frowns, then seems to have a sudden realization. ¡°Oh, uhh, hold on,¡± she says, reaching over to turn on the sink faucet. The sound of running water fills the small space, a gentle rushing that somehow makes everything more surreal. She returns her attention to me, resuming her grip with practiced ease. ¡°Try now,¡± she encourages, her voice taking on that maternal tone that simultaneously comforts and turns me on a little bit. The sound of running water seems to unlock something within me. The pressure builds until finally, mercifully, release comes. The stream flows steady and strong, the sensation of emptying my bladder is wondrous. Caterina watches with fascination, her crimson eyes fixed on my cock in her hand as she directs the stream into the toilet bowl. ¡°There you go,¡± she murmurs, her voice soft with approval. ¡°Good boy.¡± As the stream finally tapers off, she gives me a gentle shake, ensuring every last drop is gone. But instead of letting go, her grip shifts slightly, becoming more deliberate, more purposeful. Her fingers tighten just enough to send a different kind of sensation coursing through me. I moan involuntarily, the sound escaping before I can stop it. My body responds to her touch despite everything, despite the pain, despite the broken hands, despite the knowledge of what she¡¯s done to me. Her smile widens, victorious and predatory. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± she says, her voice dropping to that silken purr that bypasses all my defenses. Her hand begins to move with practiced skill, stroking me from base to tip with just the right pressure. Through the haze of medication, pleasure builds like a distant storm, simultaneously remote and overwhelming. ¡°Do you like this?¡± she whispers, her lips close to my ear, breath warm against my skin. I whimper in response, barely able to form words as her pace increases slightly. ¡°Yeah,¡± I finally manage, the admission dragged from somewhere deep inside me. ¡°Oh, you like being in my control,¡± she continues, her voice thick with satisfaction. ¡°Unable to do the most basic of tasks without my help. Complete dependence.¡± The room tilts slightly as a wave of dizziness washes over me. My legs feel unsteady beneath me. ¡°I¡¯m nervous I¡¯m gonna fall,¡± I admit, swaying slightly despite her steadying hand at my waist. Her crimson eyes flash with something dark and hungry. ¡°Then you better let it out fast for your mistress,¡± she commands, her tone sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. Another moan escapes me at her words, louder this time, more desperate. Something about the term ¡®mistress¡¯ in her mouth hits differently, awakening responses I can¡¯t control. Her expression shifts, a calculating gleam entering her eyes as she watches my reaction. ¡°Oh, wait,¡± she says, her voice lifting with false realization. ¡°You like it when I call myself your momma, right?¡± My breath comes heavier now, each inhale catching slightly in my throat. ¡°No, it¡¯s not like th¡­¡± I begin, but the protest dies on my lips as her hand quickens its pace, pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity. ¡°Look at you,¡± she whispers, her voice thick with desire and triumph. ¡°You¡¯re about to cum, aren¡¯t you? You can¡¯t help yourself.¡± Her hand works mercilessly, each stroke precise and calculated. My hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of the sensation that¡¯s building like a tidal wave within me. ¡°Cat,¡± I gasp, the name falling from my lips like a spell. In one fluid motion, she sinks to her knees before me, her crimson eyes never leaving mine as she maintains that predatory gaze. The sight of her there, powerful Caterina De Luca kneeling on her pristine bathroom floor, sends a fresh jolt of conflicted arousal through my drug-addled system. ¡°I want to taste you,¡± she purrs, replacing her hand with her mouth in one smooth movement. Her sloppy, wet mouth engulfs me, and I cry out, the sensation almost too intense to bear. My useless, cast-encased hands hover helplessly at my sides, unable to touch her, to push her away, to pull her closer. She takes me deeper, her technique flawless as always, knowing exactly how to bring me to the edge without letting me fall. Her hands grip my hips, steadying me as my knees threaten to buckle beneath the onslaught of pleasure. I keep groaning, the sounds echoing off the bathroom walls, foreign and desperate to my own ears. Part of me is disgusted at my response, at my body¡¯s betrayal of everything I know to be true about this woman. But the medication, the trauma, the sheer relief of pleasure after so much pain, it all combines to overwhelm any resistance I might have mustered. She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips brushing against me with each syllable. ¡°Come on,¡± she commands, her voice thick with desire. ¡°Cum deep in your momma¡¯s mouth.¡± The words hit something primal within me, some twisted need that I¡¯ve never acknowledged, never even recognized until this moment. The shame of it, the wrongness, somehow only intensifies the building pressure at the base of my spine. ¡°Fuck.¡± I breathe out. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± she encourages, taking me deep again, her crimson eyes watching my face with ravenous attention. ¡°Give it to me. Now.¡± On command, as if my body belongs more to her than to me, I explode. My release tears through me with shocking intensity, rope after rope of cum shooting deep into her waiting throat. She holds me in place with her strong hands, not allowing me to pull away or escape the overwhelming sensation. She swallows everything without hesitation, her crimson eyes never leaving mine. There¡¯s a terrible intimacy to it, more invasive than any physical violation. When the last spasm subsides, she releases me with a satisfied smile, rising gracefully to her feet as if nothing unusual has occurred. ¡°Good boy,¡± she praises, wiping her mouth delicately with the back of her hand. ¡°Such a good boy for your mistress.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Chapter 36: Dark Helmet [Claire¡¯s POV] I twist the sobriety chip between my fingers, the smooth edges worn from thirty days of nervous handling. Thirty days clean. Thirty days of group therapy sessions, bland cafeteria food, and nights spent staring at water stains on the ceiling while my roommate snores. Thirty days of remembering what I did to Adam. The visitors¡¯ room at Lakeside Recovery Center smells like industrial cleaner and cheap coffee. Plastic chairs arranged in neat rows, a vending machine humming in the corner, motivational posters with eagles and mountain climbers plastered on faded beige walls. Not exactly the Ritz, but better than the casino floors where I¡¯d lost everything. I adjust my plain sweater, smoothing wrinkles that aren¡¯t there. My hands still tremble slightly from withdrawal or guilt. I can¡¯t tell anymore. When they told me I had a visitor, I had no idea who to expect. Maybe my husband Adam, though that seemed unlikely given how things ended between us. But not her. Never her. Caterina De Luca sits with perfect posture in a plastic chair meant for people with less presence. Her cream-colored pantsuit looks obscenely expensive against the shabby surroundings, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in waves too perfect to be natural. Those crimson eyes scan the room with casual disdain before landing on me. My stomach drops to my feet. The last time I saw her, she told me to find help. I approach slowly, each step heavier than the last. She doesn¡¯t rise to greet me, just watches with those unnerving eyes. ¡°Hey, boss,¡± I say, the words automatic and small as I lower myself into the chair across from her. Caterina¡¯s perfect lips curve into what might be a smile on anyone else. On her, it looks like a predator baring teeth. ¡°Claire, you don¡¯t look like such a fuck up today,¡± she says, her voice carrying easily despite its softness. ¡°That¡¯s a big improvement for someone like you.¡± I flinch at the backhanded compliment but force a smile. ¡°Thanks.¡± Her crimson eyes travel over me, assessing every detail, my clean but worn clothes, my hair finally washed and brushed, the dark circles under my eyes that no amount of rest seems to erase. ¡°Thirty days,¡± she remarks, glancing at the chip I¡¯m still turning over in my hand. ¡°Congratulations.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I reply, uncertain where this is going. Caterina De Luca doesn¡¯t make social calls, especially not to rehab centers to visit women she¡¯s barely tolerated in the past. I watch Caterina¡¯s face, trying to read some hint of her true intentions behind that perfect mask. The chip feels like a lead weight in my palm now, the accomplishment it represents suddenly hollow. ¡°How is Adam?¡± I ask tentatively. My voice comes out stronger than I expected, fueled by genuine concern for the man that is technically still my husband. I expect to hear he¡¯s doing great and living the high life with Boston¡¯s most feared real estate mogul. That they¡¯re vacationing in the Maldives or renovating some mansion in the suburbs. That he¡¯s forgotten all about his gambling-addict ex-wife. Caterina¡¯s expression shifts, something dark passing behind those crimson eyes like a shark moving beneath still waters. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, actually,¡± she says, leaning forward slightly. ¡°He¡¯s not well.¡± A chill runs through me despite the overheated room. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°He tried to escape me,¡± she continues, her voice dropping to ensure our conversation remains private. ¡°So I broke both of his hands.¡± The words hit me like a gunshot. I stare at her, waiting for the punchline, for some indication she¡¯s making a terrible joke. But her expression remains eerily serene, those crimson eyes watching my reaction with clinical interest. I continue staring at Caterina, trying to process her horrifying confession, when something catches my eye across the room, a figure slumped at a table in the far corner. I squint, trying to make sense of what I¡¯m seeing. A man sits alone, wearing what appears to be a full racing helmet, glossy black, with a tinted visor completely obscuring his face. His posture is unnaturally rigid, almost puppet-like. But what truly makes my blood run cold are his hands, both encased in massive white casts that extend halfway up his forearms, giving them the appearance of cartoonish boxing gloves. The casts look fresh and pristine, professionally applied but grotesquely oversized. He sits perfectly still, head tilted slightly downward. ¡°Is that... Adam?¡± I whisper, my voice barely audible as I gesture toward the helmeted figure. Caterina follows my gaze, crimson eyes flickering with something like pride. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°What was I gonna do, leave him alone for this meeting?¡± she continues, as though explaining something obvious to a child. ¡°Of course not.¡± I can¡¯t tear my eyes away from him. The way he sits, so still, so disconnected from his surroundings, sends ice through my veins. Even from this distance, I can sense something profoundly wrong beyond the obvious physical injuries. ¡°Why does he look so... out of it?¡± I ask, my throat constricting around the words. Caterina waves her hand dismissively. ¡°He¡¯s on too many drugs to count right now,¡± she says with casual indifference. My gaze fixes on the bizarre helmet, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. It looks expensive, professional-grade, something you¡¯d see at NASCAR or Formula One races. ¡°Why the race car helmet?¡± I manage to ask, unable to hide the horror in my voice. ¡°Well, if I¡¯m not holding him, he could fall,¡± Caterina explains, her tone maddeningly casual, as though discussing a minor inconvenience rather than a horrific situation. ¡°And if he hits his head with that thing on, he¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯s one of the helmets my cousin left here.¡± The fluorescent lights overhead seem to buzz louder, the cheap institutional beige walls closing in around me as I struggle to process her words. My sobriety chip digs into my palm, where I¡¯ve clenched it tight enough to leave an imprint. I look back at Adam¡¯s rigid form across the room. He hasn¡¯t moved an inch since I first noticed him. The glossy black helmet reflects the overhead lights in distorted patterns, completely hiding any hint of expression, any sign of the vibrant, funny man I once knew. A wave of anger surges through me, hot and unexpected, burning away the perpetual fog of shame that¡¯s surrounded me since hitting rock bottom. For the first time in months, perhaps years, I feel something besides self-loathing. ¡°Boss, you said you loved him,¡± I say, my voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. My eyes dart between Caterina¡¯s perfect composure and Adam¡¯s broken form. ¡°You don¡¯t just...¡± Words fail me as the full horror of what I¡¯m seeing truly registers. Those casts. Memories of whispered conversations among Caterina¡¯s staff flood back, stories about debtors, about rivals, about people who crossed the line. ¡°Oh my fucking God, Caterina,¡± I breathe, barely able to force the words past the constriction in my throat. ¡°Did you do what you normally do to people¡¯s hands?¡± The question hangs between us like a live grenade, the pin already pulled. ¡°I told you before,¡± she says, leaning forward slightly, her crimson eyes boring into mine with terrifying intensity. ¡°He¡¯s mine to punish as I see fit.¡± I continue staring at Caterina, my heart pounding against my ribs. The words tumble out before I can stop them, raw and desperate. ¡°Loving someone means getting mad sometimes, yes, but crippling him? Breaking his hands? How can you possibly justify that?¡± My voice rises with each word, drawing curious glances from the rehab staff monitoring the room. Caterina scoffs, a sound like expensive silk tearing. Her crimson eyes flash with something between amusement and contempt. ¡°Was it love when you sold him to those gang members so they could rape him?¡± she asks, her voice deceptively soft. ¡°Was it love when you sold him to me?¡± My mouth goes dry, the familiar taste of shame coating my tongue. I grip the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. ¡°I have a fucking disease, Caterina,¡± I hiss, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. ¡°Gambling addiction is a disease. I¡¯ve been working on it every day in here.¡± She rolls her eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to talk about what you define love as, Claire,¡± she says dismissively. ¡°Your pathetic justifications mean nothing to me.¡± ¡°What is it you want, then?¡± I ask. Without breaking eye contact, Caterina reaches into her designer handbag and extracts a manila folder. She opens it and removes a single photograph, placing it on the table between us. The photo shows a young man, early twenties maybe, with kind eyes and a hesitant smile. He stands beside a woman who appears to be his girlfriend or wife, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. He looks ordinary, unremarkable even, the kind of face you¡¯d pass on the street without a second glance. ¡°Do you know this man?¡± Caterina asks, her voice carefully neutral. I study the photo more carefully, searching for any hint of familiarity, any flicker of recognition. Nothing comes. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen this man in my life,¡± I say truthfully, looking up to meet her gaze. ¡°Who is he?¡± She says, ¡°You¡¯re positive?¡± I stare at it more intently, wracking my brain for any connection. The young man¡¯s face is completely unfamiliar, average height, brown hair, nothing remarkable. The woman beside him could be his girlfriend or sister, both smiling in what looks like a backyard barbecue. ¡°I whisper, ¡°He¡¯s not that Keith guy I slept with. I remember what he looks like, and I don¡¯t think I ever cheated on Adam before that.¡± Caterina sighs and looks annoyed. ¡°Fuck,¡± she mutters under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. She leans forward, crimson eyes searching mine. ¡°You¡¯ve known Adam his whole life, right?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I say with a small nod. ¡°We were always together, even as kids.¡± ¡°This man and Adam claim to be best friends since college,¡± she says, tapping the photograph with one perfectly manicured nail. I furrow my brow, genuinely confused. ¡°Adam hates other men. He says they¡¯re too much drama. He¡¯d never be friends with a guy that looks like this.¡± The certainty in my voice surprises even me. Despite my addiction, despite the fog of the last few years, I know this much is true. Caterina stares at the photo for a long moment, her expression unreadable. ¡°Okay,¡± she says finally, her voice flat. She slides the photograph back into the manila folder with deliberate movements, tucking it away in her designer handbag. The snap of the clasp echoes in the suddenly quiet room. ¡°Well, thanks for nothing, Claire,¡± she says, rising from her chair in one fluid motion. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She rises from her seat in one fluid motion, her cream-colored pantsuit somehow remaining unwrinkled despite the cheap plastic chair. With the practiced ease of someone who¡¯s done this countless times, she strides across the room toward Adam¡¯s motionless form. I watch, paralyzed, as she reaches his table. Her hand lands on his shoulder with possessive familiarity. Adam¡¯s helmet-covered head tilts up slowly, the movement mechanical and delayed, like a wind-up toy running low on energy. ¡°Time to go, baby,¡± she says, loud enough for me to hear across the room. The words seem to activate something in him. He rises unsteadily to his feet, swaying slightly like a sapling in strong wind. His balance is clearly compromised, whether from the medication or something worse. I can¡¯t tell. Caterina slides her arm around his waist, pulling him against her with practiced efficiency. Her free hand reaches up to adjust the helmet slightly, an oddly tender gesture that makes my stomach turn. Through the tinted visor, I can see nothing of his expression, nothing of the man I once knew. ¡°There we go,¡± she coos, her voice carrying across the quiet room. ¡°Lean on me, just like that.¡± He complies without hesitation or resistance, his body molding against hers as if he¡¯s nothing more than clay in her hands. The docility of his movements, the complete surrender evident in every line of his body, sends chills racing down my spine. This isn¡¯t Adam. This is a shell, a puppet with its strings firmly in Caterina¡¯s grasp. They begin walking toward the exit, a parody of a loving couple. Each step seems to require immense concentration on Adam¡¯s part, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Caterina guides him with the patient expertise of a handler leading a prized but damaged show animal. As they pass my table, Caterina pauses, turning to face me fully. Her crimson eyes gleam with malicious triumph as she tightens her grip on Adam¡¯s waist. The smile that spreads across her perfect face is the most terrible thing I¡¯ve ever seen, radiant with genuine joy and utterly devoid of humanity. ¡°He¡¯s so much more obedient now,¡± she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, baby?¡± Adam¡¯s helmeted head bobs once in what might be a nod, the movement so slight it¡¯s barely perceptible. ¡°Say goodbye to Claire,¡± she commands, her tone shifting to that honeyed maternal voice that makes my skin crawl. ¡°Bye, Claire,¡± comes Adam¡¯s voice from within the helmet, distant and flat, stripped of all emotion or recognition. As they walk out, I can¡¯t help but think. ¡®Someone has to save Adam.¡¯ A/N: Finally our first pic of Adam. Helmet should be black tho. And the casts more of a single shape instead of individual fingers. Chapter 37: Eyes Like Constellations [Adam¡¯s POV] I¡¯m floating somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, my mind drifting like a balloon untethered from reality. Time has no meaning anymore, minutes could be hours, hours could be days. The bedroom swims in and out of focus, the expensive decor blurring at the edges of my vision. Caterina left me naked, perched on the end of our massive bed. My useless casted hands resting awkwardly in my lap. The racing helmet still encases my head, the visor tinting the world in a strange amber hue. It¡¯s hot inside, my breath fogging the interior, but removing it seems impossible with my shattered hands. Through the tinted visor, I watch the bedroom door open. Caterina glides in, completely naked, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Even through my drug-addled haze, her beauty hits me like a physical force. Her statuesque figure moves with predatory grace, each step deliberate as she approaches. My body responds instantly, hardening at the sight of her perfect form despite everything she¡¯s done to me. The betrayal of my own flesh makes me want to scream, but the drugs muffle everything, transforming rage into a distant, muted sensation. ¡®At least she¡¯s hot.¡¯ ¡°Honey,¡± she purrs, standing before me now, her crimson eyes level with my visor. ¡°I need to take off the helmet now, okay?¡± Her words reach me through layers of fog, taking too long to process. I blink slowly behind the mask, struggling to form a coherent thought. ¡°I feel like John Halo,¡± I mumble. Caterina¡¯s perfect brow furrows in confusion. ¡°I... I have no idea what that means.¡± A sultry smile spreads across her face as she leans closer, her naked breasts inches from my visor. ¡°Mr. Halo, the helmet needs to come off. It¡¯s pill time.¡± I stare at her through the abyss, trying to remember why I should be afraid. There¡¯s something important I should recall, something terrible, but it floats just beyond my grasp, dissolving like sugar in water whenever I try to focus on it. ¡°Kay,¡± I slur, nodding slightly, the helmet suddenly feeling impossibly heavy on my shoulders. Her hands move to the clasps beneath my chin, fingers working with practiced efficiency. The helmet lifts away, and cool air rushes against my sweat-dampened face. The world shifts from amber to normal colors, too bright, too sharp. I blink rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the unfiltered light. Caterina stands before me, crimson eyes studying my face with that strange mixture of possession and concern that always leaves me feeling like a treasured pet rather than a person. ¡°There you are,¡± she says with a warm smile that transforms her face, softening the sharp edges of her beauty into something almost nurturing. She reaches for a small pill bottle on the nightstand, the orange plastic bright against the muted tones of the room. Her movements are languid and deliberate as she shakes a single white pill into her palm. The medication looks innocuous, tiny, and harmless, but I know better now. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Her crimson eyes never leave mine as she places the pill on her tongue, letting it rest there like a communion wafer. A sultry look crosses her face, her pupils dilating slightly as she watches my reaction. ¡°I¡¯m glad you liked my cousin¡¯s helmet so much.¡± She says through the pill. ¡°She¡¯s an F1 driver.¡± ¡°Nascar is kinda lame, though, isn¡¯t it,¡± I mumble. ¡°No¡­ Thats not¡­ Nevermind.¡± Before I can process her words, she¡¯s moving toward me, straddling my lap with practiced ease. Her naked body radiates heat against mine, skin impossibly soft where it makes contact with my thighs. The weight of her feels both comforting and suffocating, a contradiction that mirrors everything about our twisted relationship. Her hands cup my face, thumbs gently stroking my cheekbones with deceptive tenderness. She leans forward, her lips hovering just above mine, close enough that I can feel her breath warming my skin. ¡°Open,¡± she commands softly, the word barely more than a whisper. My lips part automatically, body responding to her directive before my mind can intervene. She closes the distance between us, pressing her mouth to mine in a kiss that starts gentle before deepening with hungry intensity. Her tongue pushes the pill into my mouth, guiding it toward my throat with deliberate strokes that make swallowing reflexive. I breathe out, my hard cock rubbing against her body, twitching with involuntary desire. The medication slides down my throat with ease, its journey into my system marked by the lingering taste of Caterina¡¯s mouth. A moan escapes me, low and guttural, an animal sound that seems to come from somewhere beyond my conscious control. ¡°More?¡± I hear myself ask, the word slipping out unbidden, a Pavlovian response to the promise of chemical escape. She laughs, the sound musical and slightly unhinged, her crimson eyes gleaming with a manic light that would terrify me if I weren¡¯t already floating at the edges of consciousness. Her perfect white teeth flash in a smile that¡¯s equal parts affection and predation. ¡°Oh baby,¡± she purrs, reaching back to the nightstand drawer, ¡°today I¡¯m gonna give you a few extra, okay? So hang in there, okay?¡± Her fingers return with more pills than I can count at the moment. They rest in her palm like tiny white eggs. They¡¯re different shapes and colors. Part of me, some distant corner of my mind still capable of rational thought, wonders if I should even take them. It¡¯s not like it matters. ¡®Worst case, I die anyway.¡¯ ***** The world dissolves into a kaleidoscope of sensation as the last pill melts beneath my tongue. Colors bleed into one another, the bedroom¡¯s cream walls pulsing with hidden patterns that seem to breathe and dance. Every texture feels amplified, the silk sheets beneath me like liquid silver against my skin, the air itself a tangible presence caressing every inch of my exposed body. ¡°Fuck,¡± I mumble, my voice sounding distant and unfamiliar to my own ears. ¡°Everything feels... different.¡± Caterina¡¯s face hovers above mine, her features impossibly beautiful, almost luminous. Her crimson eyes seem to contain entire universes, pupils dilated into black holes that threaten to pull me in completely. ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re feeling good,¡± she whispers, her voice reverberating through me like music. ¡°I gave you something special tonight.¡± My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat sending waves of pleasure cascading through my nervous system. Everything is connected, the pulse in my throat, the throbbing in my fingertips beneath their casts, the almost painful arousal between my legs. I can feel blood rushing through my veins, can practically hear the electrical impulses firing between neurons. ¡°Cat,¡± I gasp, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, ¡°I need it. I need...¡± She shifts her weight above me, the subtle movement sending a deluge of pleasure through my hypersensitive skin. Her naked body gleams with a thin sheen of sweat that makes her look like she¡¯s been dipped in liquid diamonds. ¡°I know,¡± she purrs, her hand trailing down my chest, fingernails leaving trails of fire in their wake. ¡°Look at you. So desperate.¡± She leans back while straddling me, her perfect body on display. The room¡¯s dim lighting catches the curves of her breasts, the smooth plane of her stomach, the slight flare of her hips. In this moment, she¡¯s terrifying and beautiful, a goddess of pleasure and pain who holds complete power over me. Her hand wraps around my cock, and I nearly levitate off the bed. The touch is electric, sending currents of pleasure so intense they border on pain, shooting up my spine. My useless, casted hands twitch at my sides, desperate to touch, to hold, to claim some tiny fragment of control. ¡°You look like you¡¯re about to burst, baby,¡± she says with a horny smile that transforms her face into something almost feral. She looks at me with a wicked grin. ¡°What do we say when you want your mistress to fuck you?¡± My mind is a hazy blur of need and chemicals, but the answer spills from my lips with instinctive urgency. ¡°Cat, please fuck me.¡± ¡°Technically not correct.¡± She tilts her head, weighing my words with a thoughtful expression that sends a shiver down my spine. ¡°But¡­Cat is a better choice tonight,¡± she decides, her voice softening into something almost tender. ¡°Tonight, we¡¯re going to have loving, gentle sex, okay?¡± Before I can respond, she¡¯s guiding my cock inside her, the sensation so overwhelming that I nearly black out from the sheer intensity of it. Her warmth envelops me completely, and she leans forward to hug me tight, holding me as if I might shatter under the weight of everything I¡¯m feeling. She starts to move, gently rocking her hips in slow, deliberate motions that draw whimpers from deep in my throat. Each thrust sends ripples of pleasure through my drugged body, the rhythm lulling me into a state of blissful surrender. ¡°Cat,¡± I moan again. My casts rest uselessly at my sides while she does all the work, her naked body gliding against mine in a dance of friction and heat. Her breath is hot on my neck as she whispers soothing reassurances between gasps of pleasure. ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± she murmurs. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of you.¡± The drugs amplify every sensation, turning each touch into an explosion of bliss that radiates through my entire being. Her fingernails scrape along my chest, and I shiver with delight. Her lips find mine, capturing them in a deep, possessive kiss that leaves me gasping for air and wanting more. ¡°You¡¯re mine,¡± she breathes against my mouth, her voice fierce and loving all at once. ¡°Only mine.¡± Her hips move with slow, deliberate precision, each thrust measured to bring me to the brink without letting me tip over the edge. It¡¯s maddening and intoxicating, a careful torture that leaves me panting and desperate beneath her. ¡°Caterina,¡± I gasp, struggling to form words through the haze of overwhelming sensation. ¡°I can¡¯t... it¡¯s too much...¡± She laughs softly, a sound filled with affection and triumph. ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as too much for you,¡± she teases, her body moving faster now, driving me wild with need. I feel like I¡¯m coming apart at the seams, every nerve ending firing in euphoric harmony. My world narrows to the points of contact between us, her skin on mine, her breath mingling with mine. ¡°Please,¡± I beg again, not even sure what I¡¯m asking for any more. Her hips move faster, and I¡¯m teetering on the edge of something monumental. The world narrows to a pinpoint, focusing solely on the overwhelming sensations coursing through me. My body tenses, and I let out a raw, animalistic whimper as I explode inside her, every nerve ending lighting up in euphoric chaos. I feel so overwhelmed with manufactured emotion mixing with my lust. ¡°I love you, Cat,¡± I gasp, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. Regret hits me like a freight train, shame flooding in to fill the spaces between my rapid heartbeats. It was a slip, words said in a moment of drugged vulnerability. ¡®Fuck.¡¯ Caterina¡¯s eyes light up with a passion I¡¯ve never seen before. Her gaze is searing, and for a terrifying second, I think she might literally consume me. ¡°You love me,¡± she says, her voice trembling with an intensity that makes my heart skip. ¡°You really love me.¡± ¡®God, no.¡¯ Even as she holds me tight, my body is still responding, still hard inside her despite just coming. The drugs keep everything alive and electric, refusing to let any sensation fade. ¡°Cat,¡± I mumble in disbelief, but she¡¯s already moving again, her hips rolling with renewed fervor. ¡°You have no idea how happy this makes me,¡± she whispers fiercely. Her hands grip my shoulders like she¡¯s afraid I¡¯ll vanish if she lets go. ¡°I love you too. More than anything.¡± ¡®No.¡¯ She rides me harder now, her movements fueled by an almost manic energy. My mind struggles to process what¡¯s happening, the mix of pleasure and emotion threatening to drown me completely. ¡°Fuck,¡± I moan as she moves faster and faster, determined to wring every last bit of feeling from my overstimulated body. She laughs breathlessly above me. ¡°I¡¯m going to make sure you never forget this night,¡± she promises with wild determination. The room twists around us as she drives me relentlessly toward another peak. My head is a dizzy mess of chemicals and emotions, each moment blurring into the next in an endless cascade of sensations. ¡°Cat!¡± I cry out again as I feel myself building toward another climax far too soon. She doesn¡¯t slow down. ¡°Cum for me again,¡± she urges with desperation in her voice. ¡°Give it all to me.¡± I¡¯m helpless against the tide that crashes over me once more, my entire body convulsing with the force of it as I spill into her again. She holds me through it all, her presence grounding and overwhelming at the same time. I collapse back onto the bed, gasping for air while she watches me with those impossibly bright eyes that seem to see right through all my defenses. Caterina looks at me like she won the lottery. ¡°Say it again.¡± I stare at her mouth ajar, feeling like a complete drug addict, scared and lost, wondering what I did in my other life to be here now. ¡°SAY IT!¡± Caterina screams with a deranged smile. I give up another piece of me as I sink further into the event horizon. ¡°I love you,¡± I speak with complete resignation. Chapter 38: Green Monzter It¡¯s been days. I¡¯m sitting in Caterina¡¯s office at the casino, the room spinning slightly at the edges of my vision. The walls are lined with monitors displaying security feeds from the casino floor, patrons moving like colorful fish in an aquarium. The massive mahogany desk between us gleams under the recessed lighting, its surface meticulously organized, not a paper out of place, not a speck of dust visible. I look down and realize I¡¯m dressed in a white suit to match Caterina¡¯s. The fabric feels expensive against my skin, soft and weightless. My broken hands pointlessly hang to my side, the massive casts appearing stark and medical against the pristine white of my attire. They ache dully beneath the padding, a constant reminder of my punishment. Caterina stands in front from me, her crimson eyes studying my face with that familiar mixture of possession and concern. ¡°Okay, baby,¡± she says, wiping her mouth delicately after giving me my pain pills, ¡°today I only gave you what¡¯s necessary. You should be lucid soon, okay?¡± I sit there staring at her mouth like a trained dog, watching her lips form words with an intensity born of chemical dependence and fear. The pills are already working their way through my system, but something feels different. The fog isn¡¯t as thick, the disconnection not as complete. I can feel my thoughts crystallizing, becoming sharper around the edges. ¡°Wait... no more?¡± I hear myself ask, the words slipping out before I can catch them. She smiles, a predatory curve of perfect white teeth. ¡°Oh, did you want more pills, baby?¡± Her voice is filled with false concern. ¡°It¡¯s just I want to take you out on a date today.¡± ¡°A date?¡± The concept seems foreign, a relic from another life. ¡°Where?¡± ¡°I want you to pick,¡± she says, leaning forward slightly, her eyes never leaving my face. The request catches me off guard. Choice is not something I¡¯ve been allowed in... I can¡¯t even remember how long. Days, weeks¡­Time has lost any semblance of meaning in the haze of medication and pain. ¡°I can choose?¡± My voice sounds small and uncertain, like a child being offered something too good to be true. Caterina nods, her expression softening into something almost genuine. ¡°Anywhere you want, baby. It¡¯s your day.¡± I stare at Caterina, my mind slowly clearing as the reduced medication allows me to think more coherently than I have in days. The office feels too bright suddenly. I look up at her, confused. ¡°It¡¯s not my birthday.¡± Caterina laughs, the sound musical and slightly unnerving. ¡°No, it¡¯s certainly not.¡± She moves behind my chair, her hands coming to rest on my shoulders. I can feel her breath against my ear as she leans down, her lips almost touching my skin. ¡°If you could have one meal before you die,¡± she whispers like an oracle, ¡°what would you want to eat?¡± A chill runs through me despite the warmth of her breath. My heart stutters in my chest, the implication of her words hanging in the air between us. ¡°Is this my last meal?¡± I ask, my voice eerily calm, almost grateful for the possibility of an end. ¡°No!¡± she exclaims, panic flashing across her face as she spins my chair around to face her. ¡°God, no! You¡¯ve been so obedient.¡± She kisses me suddenly, her lips soft against mine. ¡°You¡¯ve been such a good boy,¡± she murmurs, kissing me again with increasing intensity. ¡°You deserve something good.¡± Her crimson eyes search mine, looking for something I¡¯m not sure I can give. ¡°I can take you anywhere you can imagine.¡± I think for a moment, memories filtering through the uppers and downers. A strange nostalgia washes over me for simpler times, for normalcy that feels alien now. ¡°On Route One,¡± I say slowly, ¡°there¡¯s a restaurant called Prince Pizza. It has the fake Leaning Tower of Pizza.¡± Caterina¡¯s shoulders slouch visibly, disappointment written across her perfect features. ¡°You want me to take you to Princess Pizza?¡± I swallow hard, suddenly afraid I¡¯ve made a terrible mistake. ¡°If I say yes, are you going to hammer me again?¡± She rolls her eyes dramatically, but I catch the flash of something dark behind the gesture. ¡°Good boys don¡¯t get the hammer, remember?¡± Caterina leans down, closing the distance between us with a fluid grace that reminds me of a predator. Her lips capture mine in a kiss that starts gently but quickly deepens into something hungry and possessive. Her tongue slides against mine, tasting faintly of mint and expensive coffee. The kiss is thorough, deliberate, the kind that leaves me breathless and confused about whether I should be terrified or aroused. When she finally pulls away, her crimson eyes gleam something between love and resignation. ¡°If my lover wants to eat shitty pizza on Route 1 at a 2-star restaurant,¡± she says with a dramatic sigh, ¡°then who am I to say no?¡± Her words hang between us, the term ¡°lover¡± feeling both wrong and right in ways I can¡¯t articulate. ¡°Princess Pizza it is,¡± she declares, her tone suggesting she¡¯s making some grand sacrifice. ¡°Though I could have taken you to Paris for dinner, you know. Actual Paris.¡± ¡°We¡¯d never make it in time.¡± I ponder her point. ¡°True.¡± She adds with a smile. I stare up at her, trying to determine if this is some elaborate trap. ¡°Really? We can go to Prince?" ¡°Princess.¡± She corrects me while reaching for her phone. ¡°Of course. Let me tell Lara to bring the car around.¡± As she texts Lara, I look down at my casted hands resting uselessly in my lap. The white plaster seems to glow under the office lights, a constant reminder of what happens when I disobey. The thought of being in public with these casts makes my stomach twist with anxiety. ¡°People will stare,¡± I say quietly when she ends her call. Caterina tilts her head, studying me with those unsettling eyes. ¡°At what? Your casts?¡± She waves dismissively. ¡°Everyone will just assume you had an accident. Rock climbing or something equally feminine and stupid.¡± ***** The mid-October sun feels alien against my skin as we step out of the casino¡¯s private entrance, like I¡¯m experiencing daylight for the first time after years in captivity. The black SUV waits at the curb, engine purring quietly, its tinted windows reflecting the casino¡¯s golden fa?ade. Lara holds the door open, her wild red hair tamed into a professional bun today, though her eyes still dance with that barely contained mania. Maddy stands beside her, immaculate in her tailored suit, her sharp features arranged in a carefully neutral expression. ¡°Hey, Boss,¡± they say in unison as Caterina approaches, their eyes sliding past me as if I¡¯m merely an accessory she¡¯s chosen to wear today. Caterina pauses, her grip tightening slightly on my arm. ¡°You¡¯re not going to say hi to the man that loves me?¡± she asks, her voice carrying that dangerous edge that makes my stomach clench with pavlovian fear. I don¡¯t even wince at the reminder of those drugged words that slipped from my lips as I blasted inside her. Words I can never take back, words that have become another chain binding me to her. Lara¡¯s face splits into a wide grin, her blue eyes fixing on me with sudden interest. ¡°So you finally confessed to Boss, eh?¡± She leans against the car door, studying me with the fascination of someone observing an exotic specimen at a zoo. ¡°About time.¡± Maddy¡¯s smile is more restrained but no less unsettling. ¡°Congratulations,¡± she offers, her voice smooth as polished stone. ¡°Love always seems so nice.¡± Caterina helps me into the SUV¡¯s plush interior, careful not to jostle my busted hands. The leather seats feel cool against my back as I sink into them, grateful for the momentary respite from standing. The effort of walking from the office to the car has left me embarrassingly winded. Caterina slides in beside me, her thigh pressing against mine as the door closes, sealing us into our private bubble. She settles against me, her body radiating warmth through the thin fabric of my white suit. Lara and Maddy slide into the back seat across from us, filling the spacious SUV with their distinctive presence. Lara sprawls across the leather, all languid limbs and predatory energy, while Maddy sits with military precision, her spine straight and hands folded neatly in her lap. The SUV navigates through downtown Boston¡¯s congested streets, the tinted windows transforming the bright afternoon into something softer, more muted. Caterina¡¯s hand finds my fore arm, her fingers carefully sliding between the edge of my cast and my wrist, finding that patch of exposed skin. The touch is possessive, deliberate, meant to remind everyone present of our connection. ¡°I love you,¡± she says suddenly, her voice filling the quiet interior of the SUV. The words hang in the air, heavy and expectant. Without missing a beat, I turn to meet her crimson gaze. ¡°I love you too,¡± I respond, the lie coming easier now, practiced and automatic. My voice doesn¡¯t even shake anymore. ¡®If I don¡¯t say it, I¡¯d be a bad boy. And bad boys get the hammer. And I¡¯m never getting the hammer again.¡¯ The words don¡¯t even feel bad anymore. I¡¯ve clearly been saying it to her all the time in my drugged stupor. I stare at Caterina¡¯s lips as I feel a warmth spread throughout my body. Lara makes a gagging sound from the back seat, her blue eyes rolling dramatically. ¡°Nah, love is overrated,¡± she declares, examining her short, practical nails with exaggerated interest. ¡°Give me a good one-night stand any day.¡± Caterina¡¯s expression shifts, the warmth in her eyes cooling to something dangerous as she turns to regard her lieutenant. ¡°Lara, please don¡¯t brag about raping men in front of my lover,¡± she says, her voice deceptively soft, like velvet wrapped around a razor blade. The temperature in the SUV seems to drop several degrees. Lara¡¯s face flushes almost as red as her hair, her eyes widening with what might be genuine shock. ¡°I wasn¡¯t gonna!¡± she protests, sitting up straighter, her usual manic energy momentarily subdued. ¡°I¡¯m not a pig. I¡¯m a lady. I only rape the bad ones.¡± I stare at Lara, a strange detachment settling over me. The drugs have worn off just enough that I can feel a spark of curiosity cutting through the fog. With nothing left to lose, I decide to engage. ¡°What do you mean you only rape the bad ones?¡± I ask, my voice steadier than I expected. The SUV falls silent. Maddy shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting between Lara and Caterina. Caterina¡¯s fingers tighten slightly around my forearm, but she doesn¡¯t interrupt. Lara¡¯s manic grin returns, spreading across her face like an oil slick. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, suddenly eager to explain herself to a captive audience. ¡°See, there¡¯s different kinds of men in life,¡± she begins, her blue eyes shimmering with an unsettling intensity. ¡°The good ones like you¡¯ve become, they¡¯re rare. Precious little things that need protection and care.¡± She gestures toward Caterina. ¡°But the bad ones? The ones who think they can hurt women, who think they¡¯re entitled to our time, our money, our respect? Those are the ones I hunt.¡± Lara gestures wildly with her hands, her eyes growing wider with each word. ¡°It¡¯s like a public service, really. I¡¯m teaching lessons to men who¡¯ve forgotten their place in the world.¡± ¡°She just rapes anyone she hates in the moment,¡± Maddy scoffs, cutting through Lara¡¯s justification with surgical precision. Her green eyes flash with something between disgust and resignation. ¡°Last week it was a barista who got her coffee order wrong.¡± Lara¡¯s face contorts with indignation. ¡°He put WHOLE milk in my latte when I specifically asked for oat milk! That¡¯s basically assault! I¡¯m off lactose, for Christ¡¯s sake!¡± ¡°You literally ¡®assaulted¡¯ him,¡± Maddy counters, her voice maintaining that professional calm that somehow makes her words more devastating. ¡°Enough of this conversation,¡± Caterina interjects, her crimson eyes narrowing dangerously. Her arm slides protectively around my shoulders. ¡°He¡¯s just a man. He can¡¯t handle this disgusting locker room talk.¡± The SUV falls silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air. I try to process the casual way they discuss violating men, the same way some men might discuss conquests over beers. ¡®Nah. I have never heard anyone brag about raping women. This world is cooked.¡¯ Caterina turns to me, her expression softening into that practiced tenderness that always follows her moments of cruelty. ¡°Honey, how would you like to go to Italian Grand Prix to watch my cousin race next month?¡± I look at her blankly. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means.¡± Her perfect lips curve into an indulgent smile as though my ignorance is somehow endearing. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°It¡¯s a race in the city of Monza,¡± she explains, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. ¡°Formula One. The most prestigious racing competition in the world. My cousin Valentina is one of the top drivers.¡± I study her face. ¡°You¡¯re telling, not asking, right?¡± Something flickers in her crimson eyes, surprise, perhaps, that I¡¯ve become perceptive enough to recognize the difference. ¡°Yes,¡± she admits without hesitation. ¡°Typically, with the Monza race, I check in with a lot of the other families, and of course, you will come one way or another.¡± I nod slowly, understanding the subtext. Other families means other crime bosses, other monsters like her. And I am to be displayed like a trophy, evidence of her dominance and control. ¡°Sounds good,¡± I say listlessly, slowly getting used to my lack of control in life. Caterina pulls me in close. ¡°Hopefully, the casts will come off in time for the race.¡± Chapter 39: Princess Pizza The SUV pulls up to the curb with a gentle lurch, the engine purring to a stop outside Princess Pizza. Through the tinted windows, I can see the Leaning Tower of Pizza jutting out from the roof of the restaurant, its cartoonish tilt and faded paint a nostalgic sight that sends a strange wave of emotion through me. The tower looks smaller than I remember, tackier even. But it¡¯s real, a piece of my life before Caterina that somehow still exists in this twisted new reality. ¡®Granted, it was called Prince Pizza before, but this is close enough.¡¯ ¡°We¡¯re here, Boss,¡± Lara announces. Caterina surveys the restaurant with poorly disguised disdain, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly at the neon sign flickering in the early evening light. The parking lot is half-full, occupied mostly by minivans and sensible sedans, regular normal people having normal dinners with their regular families. ¡°You two stay with the car,¡± Caterina instructs, her tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be long.¡± Maddy nods professionally while Lara slouches in her seat with a dramatic sigh. ¡°Whatever you say, Boss. We¡¯ll be right here if you need anything.¡± Caterina¡¯s expression softens into that practiced tenderness that still makes my skin crawl. ¡°Ready, baby?¡± she asks, her hand already reaching for the door handle. I nod, unable to hide the spark of genuine excitement that flares in my chest. For a moment, I feel almost like my old self, like Adam Evans going to get pizza on a Friday night, not Caterina De Luca¡¯s broken toy on a supervised outing. The door swings open, and the smell hits me immediately, tomato sauce, baking dough, garlic, and oregano. The scent of normalcy. Caterina slides out first. She turns back to me, extending her hand with that carnivorous smile. ¡°Come on, baby,¡± she says with affection. ¡°Let me help you.¡± I awkwardly maneuver my way out of the SUV, my massive casts bumping against the doorframe. The movement sends a jolt of pain through my broken hands, and I hiss through clenched teeth. Caterina¡¯s arm wraps around my waist, steadying me with surprising strength. ¡°Careful,¡± she murmurs, pulling me against her side. ¡°I¡¯ve got you.¡± As we step inside, the familiar atmosphere washes over me, the worn linoleum floor, the buzzing fluorescent lights, the constant chatter of families and the distant clatter of kitchen staff shouting orders. The counter is unmanned, a small handwritten sign reading ¡°Please wait to be seated¡± propped against a stack of laminated menus. I inhale deeply, letting the smell of pizza and cheese fill my lungs. ¡°Yeah, this place fucks,¡± I say with unexpected enthusiasm, the slang slipping out naturally. Caterina chuckles beside me, her crimson eyes scanning the restaurant with clinical detachment. ¡°Sure, sure,¡± she replies, clearly humoring me. A teenage server approaches, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in Caterina¡¯s imposing height and expensive attire, so out of place among the families in jeans and t-shirts. Her gaze drops to my casts, curiosity flashing across her face before professional courtesy masks it. ¡°Just two tonight?¡± she asks, already reaching for menus. ¡°Yes,¡± Caterina answers before I can speak. ¡°Somewhere private, if possible.¡± The server nods, leading us through the maze of tables toward a booth in the corner. I catch glimpses of normal life as we pass, children coloring on paper placemats, couples sharing slices, friends laughing over pitchers of soda. ¡°Here you are,¡± the server says, placing menus on the table. ¡°Can I get you folks something to drink?¡± Before I can answer, Caterina slides into the booth and pats the space beside her. Not across from her, beside her. Her meaning is clear. We¡¯re sitting together like lovers would. My stomach twists with a mixture of resignation and humiliation, but I comply, awkwardly maneuvering my casted hands as I settle next to her. ¡°I¡¯ll have water,¡± Caterina says, not bothering to look at the drinks menu. ¡°Bottled, preferably.¡± The server nods, scribbling on her notepad before turning to me with a sympathetic smile. ¡°And for you, sir?¡± ¡°Coke, please,¡± I say. As the server walks away, Caterina¡¯s arm slides around my shoulders, her fingers tracing idle patterns against my upper arm. Her crimson eyes scan the restaurant with the detached interest of an anthropologist observing a primitive culture. ¡°The red and white checkerboard pattern for the tables is a bit simple, isn¡¯t it?¡± she remarks, running her free hand over the plastic tablecloth. ¡°Very... quaint.¡± I stare at her, annoyance flaring hot and sudden in my chest. For a moment, I consider saying something cutting, something to puncture her perpetual air of superiority. But the dull throb in my casted hands reminds me of the price of defiance, and I swallow the words before they can escape. Instead, I shrug and look down at the menu, though I already know what I want. The same thing I¡¯ve ordered since I was five years old, a large cheese pizza. ¡®I¡¯m a simple man.¡¯ I scan the walls, taking in the faded photographs of local sports teams and newspaper clippings yellowed with age. There, above the kitchen entrance, hangs the same signed Red Sox jersey that¡¯s been there since I was small enough to need a booster seat. The server returns with our drinks, placing a sweating glass of Coke before me and a bottle of water for Caterina. She looks at my casts with sympathy. ¡°Those look rough,¡± she comments. ¡°Skiing accident?¡± ¡°Rock climbing,¡± Caterina interjects smoothly, her arm tightening around my shoulders. ¡°He¡¯s still learning his limits.¡± S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Yikes.¡± The server nods, pulling out her notepad. ¡°Ready to order?¡± ¡°Large cheese pizza,¡± I say eagerly. The girl scribbles on her pad. ¡°Great choice.¡± Caterina waves her hand dismissively. ¡°That will be sufficient.¡± The server walks away, seemingly happy to be far from Caterina, her scary-ass gaze. ¡°This place is my favorite,¡± I say, my voice softening with genuine emotion. ¡°My mom took me here when I was a kid before she, well...¡± I trail off, the memory of her death still painful after all these years. Caterina watches me intently, her crimson eyes missing nothing. ¡°And then Jessica would take me here,¡± I continue, lost in recollection. ¡°We never had a dad to come with us. I don¡¯t know how to explain it. I just really love it here.¡± I look around at the bustling tables, the families sharing meals together. ¡°Connor and I came here all the time in college.¡± Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes seem to glow in the dim lighting of the restaurant as she studies my face with that predatory intensity that never quite leaves her, even in moments of apparent tenderness. Her fingers trace delicate patterns on my shoulder, each touch a subtle reminder of ownership. ¡°Did you ever go on dates here?¡± she asks suddenly, her voice deceptively casual as she takes a sip of her bottled water. The question catches me off guard, and I find myself sifting through memories that feel increasingly distant as if they belong to someone else entirely. ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I reply with a shrug, watching condensation bead on my untouched Coke glass. ¡°I don¡¯t really remember.¡± Caterina¡¯s perfect eyebrows arch slightly. ¡°Never with Claire?¡± ¡°No,¡± I say, shaking my head. ¡°I never dated Claire.¡± Something shifts in Caterina¡¯s expression, a subtle hardening around the eyes, a tightening of her perfect lips. Her hand stops its gentle caress of my shoulder, instead gripping it with barely concealed frustration. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she says, her voice dropping to that maternal tone that slowly is becoming a turn-on. ¡°I know you have your false memories. It looks like you may never regain your real ones.¡± I stare at her, remembering she doesn¡¯t believe that I¡¯m from a different world. And thats fair. I look at Caterina, this beautiful monster who¡¯s systematically destroyed every part of my life, and make the only choice available to me. I lie. ¡°Yup, that¡¯s true,¡± I say, forcing a small, defeated smile. She looks at me with her crimson eyes narrowing slightly, head tilted in curiosity. ¡°So this place means everything to you?¡± I glance around at the worn booths, the buzzing overhead lights, the faded posters of old sports teams. Everything here is cheap, dated, and ordinary, the exact opposite of Caterina¡¯s world of luxury and violence. Yet somehow, it feels more real than anything I¡¯ve experienced in weeks. ¡°Yeah,¡± I answer simply, surprised by the genuine emotion in my voice. ¡°It does.¡± Something shifts in Caterina¡¯s expression, a subtle softening around the edges of her predatory features. She runs her fingers along the plastic tablecloth, examining the red and white checkerboard pattern she¡¯d dismissed moments earlier. ¡°Then I¡¯m sorry I was unkind about it,¡± she says, the words coming out awkwardly, as though she¡¯s unpracticed in genuine apology. ¡°I¡¯m happy you took me somewhere special on your first chance.¡± I study her face, searching for the manipulation, the calculation that must be hiding behind those crimson eyes. But all I find is what appears to be sincerity. She pulls me in close, her arm sliding around my shoulders with practiced ease. Despite everything, the broken hands, the drugs, the torture, the threats, I feel surprisingly safe in this moment. The contradiction of it makes my stomach lurch more than any medication she¡¯s forced down my throat. I lean into her embrace, breathing in her scent. Expensive soap and a hint of sweat, clean and somehow primal at the same time. I breathe it in deeper without thinking, my nose brushing against her neck as I inhale again. ¡°Are you smelling me?¡± she asks, amusement coloring her voice. I chuckle, not caring what I do as long as I don¡¯t break her rules. ¡°Yeah,¡± I admit, feeling strangely lightheaded from the closeness, from the momentary illusion of normalcy. Her lips curve into that possessive smile that simultaneously terrifies and enthralls me. ¡°Good,¡± she says simply, pressing a kiss to my temple. ***** The empty pizza tray sits between us, nothing but crumbs and a few stray flecks of cheese remaining from what had been, I have to admit, a perfect pizza. Caterina dabs at the corner of her mouth with a paper napkin, somehow managing to make even this mundane gesture look elegant. Despite her initial disdain, she had eaten three slices, her perfect composure slipping just enough to reveal genuine enjoyment. ¡°I must admit,¡± she says, folding the napkin into a neat square, ¡°that was actually quite good. Not Michelin star, obviously, but there¡¯s something... authentic about it.¡± I smile, a real smile that reaches my eyes for the first time in what feels like forever. ¡°Told you,¡± I say, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice. ¡°Best pizza in Massachusetts.¡± She reaches across the booth, her fingers gently brushing against my cheek in a tender gesture that feels almost normal. ¡°I like seeing you happy,¡± she says softly, her crimson eyes studying my face with that unsettling intensity. ¡°Your whole face lights up.¡± The server approaches with our check, placing it on the table with a practiced smile. ¡°How was everything?¡± she asks, glancing between us. ¡°Perfect,¡± I reply before Caterina can speak. Caterina slides her black card into the leather folder without even glancing at the total. The server whisks it away, returning moments later with the receipt for Caterina to sign. ¡°Thanks for coming in,¡± she says, collecting the signed receipt. As the server walks away, Caterina turns to me, her expression softening into something almost human. ¡°Ready to go, baby?¡± I nod, suddenly exhausted from the simple act of being in public, of pretending that everything is normal when nothing will ever be normal again. The pain medication is wearing off. The pain is throbbing, yet worse than that, I¡¯m starting to feel a bit sweaty and a little bit aggravated. Caterina helps me slide out of the booth, her arm wrapping supportively around my waist. As we make our way toward the exit, I notice a young couple near the entrance, their heads bent close together over a shared dessert. The girl is tall and blonde. Her posture radiates defiance. The smell of cigarettes reaches me despite the distance between us. Across from her sits a brown-haired boy with hazel eyes that seem too gentle for the girl¡¯s carefully cultivated aesthetic. They¡¯re watching us, not even trying to be subtle about it. The boy leans forward, his eyes fixed on my massive casts and Caterina¡¯s protective grip on my waist. ¡°See that couple with the scared guy?¡± he says, loud enough for us to hear as we pass their table. ¡°That¡¯s goals, Erica.¡± The blonde girl, Erica, tosses her head back in laughter, the sound bright and careless in a way that makes me ache with nostalgia for a time when I could laugh like that. ¡°Jason, I don¡¯t want you to be afraid of me,¡± she protests, punching his arm playfully. The boy, Jason, shakes his head earnestly, his hazel eyes following us with something like admiration. ¡°You¡¯re not getting it. I want to be afraid of you.¡± Their conversation fades as we move past, but I catch the girl¡¯s rolled eyes and the boy¡¯s dreamy sigh as they return to their dessert, oblivious to the reality of what they¡¯re romanticizing. ¡®Kid, you do not want my life. You¡¯d never make it even one day in my shoes.¡¯ I chuckle despite myself, glancing up at Caterina as we push through the glass doors into the cool evening air. ¡°Did you hear that?¡± I ask, nodding back toward the teenagers. ¡°We¡¯re ¡®goals¡¯ for that kid.¡± Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes gleam with amusement. Her arm tightens possessively around my waist as she guides me toward the waiting SUV. ¡°As we should be,¡± she replies with casual confidence, her perfect lips curved in a smile that doesn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°Every man should want to be held captive by such a loving woman.¡± Princess Pizza: Chapter 40: Pills, Baby!! I¡¯m sitting outside Caterina¡¯s office at the Casino, shifting uncomfortably in the plush leather chair. My casts are still on. They¡¯ve started to itch beneath the plaster, a maddening sensation I can¡¯t do shit about. Without my daily cocktail of pain pills, my hands are screaming. Sharp, pulsating agony radiates from my fingers up through my wrists and into my forearms. But it¡¯s not just the pain that¡¯s bothering me. There¡¯s something else, a restless, crawling sensation under my skin, a tension in my muscles that won¡¯t ease no matter how I position myself. ¡®Am I sick?¡¯ The wall clock ticks by with excruciating slowness. Caterina¡¯s been in there for over an hour with some business executive from New York. Through the frosted glass, I can see their silhouettes, Caterina¡¯s tall, imposing figure, and the smaller, hunched shape of her visitor. I tap my foot rapidly against the carpet, unable to keep still. My shirt clings uncomfortably to my back, and I can feel sweat beginning to bead on my forehead despite the Casino¡¯s aggressive air conditioning. Lara leans against the wall opposite me, her wild red hair loose today, cascading over her shoulders like spilled blood. Her blue eyes haven¡¯t left me since Caterina deposited me in this chair with instructions to ¡°be good.¡± ¡°Are you hot?¡± she asks suddenly, pushing off from the wall and taking a step closer. ¡°You¡¯re starting to sweat.¡± I glare up at her, irritation flaring hot and sudden. ¡°Relax. I¡¯m fine,¡± I snap, the words coming out sharper than I intended. Lara¡¯s eyebrows shoot up, a dangerous smile spreading across her face. ¡°Ooh, someone¡¯s feeling brave today,¡± she purrs, crouching down until we¡¯re at eye level. ¡°Or stupid.¡± I look away, focusing on the carpet pattern to avoid her creepy gaze. Finally, the office door swings open. A stern-faced woman in an impeccable navy suit strides out, her expression grim as she clutches a leather portfolio to her chest. She doesn¡¯t spare me a glance as she speeds away. ¡°Adam?¡± Caterina¡¯s voice calls from within the office. ¡°Come in, baby.¡± I stand up, joints stiff from sitting too long, and make my way toward Caterina¡¯s office. Each step feels heavier than the last, my body simultaneously jittery and exhausted. As I cross the threshold, Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes find mine immediately. She sits behind her massive desk, backlit by the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of Boston¡¯s skyline. Her cream-colored suit looks impossibly crisp despite the late hour, not a wrinkle or stain in sight. Something strange happens as our eyes meet, a wave of relief washes over me, unexpected and unwelcome. The constant background buzz of anxiety that¡¯s become my constant companion these past weeks suddenly quiets. My racing heart slows, my breathing steadies. ¡°There you are,¡± she says, her voice warm with affection. ¡°I missed you.¡± The realization hits me like a physical blow, the only time I don¡¯t feel anxious lately is when I¡¯m with her. My torturer has become my comfort. My captor, my sanctuary. ¡®My life sucks.¡¯ ¡°Would you like to come sit with me for a while?¡± she asks, gesturing toward a plush leather couch nestled against the far wall of her office beneath a massive oil painting of the Boston Harbor. ¡°Yeah,¡± I reply, my voice rough with need, not for her, but for what she provides. She rises from her desk and moves to join me as I sink into the soft leather. The couch dips beneath her weight as she settles beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her body. ¡°Is there anything I can get you?¡± she asks, her tone knowing, almost smug as if she¡¯s been waiting for this moment. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. ¡°We forgot to do pill time this morning.¡± Her perfect lips curve into a wide smile, triumphant and predatory all at once. ¡°I was wondering when you¡¯d mention that,¡± she says, crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you need them anymore.¡± Panic surges through me, hot and immediate. ¡°But my hands hurt so much,¡± I protest, unable to keep the desperation from my voice. The pain is real, sharp and insistent beneath the plaster, but it¡¯s more than that, it¡¯s the crawling sensation under my skin, the restlessness, the need for chemical oblivion. ¡°Okay then,¡± she concedes with practiced benevolence. She reaches for the side table where a small crystal dish sits, filled with an assortment of pills, white ovals, blue circles, yellow capsules, a rainbow of pharmaceutical escape routes. It¡¯s as if she was prepared for me to ask. She picks up a small white pill between her fingers, holding it up to the light like a precious gem. The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches it, making it glow like it¡¯s a diamond. ¡°I¡¯ll give you one pill for every compliment you give me,¡± she says, her crimson eyes gleaming with cruel playfulness. ¡°Genuine compliments only. I can tell when you¡¯re lying.¡± I stare at the pill, my entire being focused on that tiny white oval. The pain in my hands throbs in time with my racing heart, and the wriggling sensation under my skin intensifies. The need claws at my insides, desperate and raw. ¡°That¡¯s actually pretty easy,¡± I say, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounds. Caterina¡¯s perfect eyebrow arches, her expression caught between amusement and suspicion. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you compliment me?¡± she challenges, rolling the pill between her thumb and forefinger. ¡°Hmm,¡± I say, pretending to think deeply about it. My mind screams in silent rebellion. ¡®Because I hate you. Because you broke my hands with a hammer. Because you killed Candice. Need I go on?¡¯ ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I say, giving her a small shrug. ¡°It is wrong I don¡¯t compliment you.¡± I offer her a genuine smile, the kind that reaches my eyes. Because this, at least, isn¡¯t a lie. ¡°You are easily the sexiest woman I¡¯ve ever met in my life,¡± I say, my voice confident and clear. Her eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard by the sincerity in my tone. For a moment, the mask slips, and I glimpse something almost vulnerable beneath her perfect exterior. ¡°Really?¡± she asks, the single word carrying more uncertainty than I¡¯ve ever heard from her. I nod, maintaining eye contact. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s not even close,¡± I continue, warming to the topic. ¡°The way you move, the way you dress, everything about you is incredibly sexy. It¡¯s like someone asked me to draw the sexiest woman alive with a crayon, and then you walked in and made that drawing look like disgusting garbage.¡± Her lips part slightly, a flush of genuine pleasure coloring her cheeks. She seems momentarily speechless, her usual composure slipping. She places the pill on her tongue, crimson eyes never leaving mine. The ritual has become so familiar and intimate in its twisted way. She leans forward, and I meet her halfway. Our lips connect, and something unexpected happens. A wave of warmth washes over me before the pill even makes contact with my tongue. She deepens the kiss, her tongue guiding the tablet into my mouth. The bitter taste barely registers anymore. My body responds with a Pavlovian rush of relief like my brain is rewarding me for the mere promise of what¡¯s to come. I swallow the pill, but I don¡¯t pull away. I linger in the kiss, eyes closed, breathing in her scent. The drugs haven¡¯t even hit my bloodstream yet, but already I feel the edges of my anxiety softening, my muscles relaxing. ¡®I deserve this,¡¯ I think hazily. ¡®Any level of bliss in this hell is something I am warranted.¡¯ Her hand cups my face, thumb stroking my cheek with deceptive tenderness. When she finally pulls back, there¡¯s something triumphant in her expression, like she¡¯s won something I didn¡¯t know we were competing for. ¡°Another compliment?¡± she offers, already reaching for a second pill. I nod eagerly, the prospect of more pills overriding any remaining dignity. I contemplate my next compliment, trying to think beyond the immediate physical need for more medication. The pain throbs insistently in my broken hands, but I force myself to focus, to be strategic. ¡°I think it¡¯s incredible how driven you are as a person,¡± I say, my voice clear and steady. ¡°You will go above and beyond, stopping at nothing to get what you want.¡± ¡®Like killing a tired mother.¡¯ Another not-lie. My voice sounds real even to my own ears, carrying the weight of genuine observation rather than desperate flattery. Caterina tilts her head slightly, studying me with those unsettling crimson eyes. A flush of pleasure colors her cheeks, and she seems touched by my words. ¡°These are a lot better than what I expected,¡± she admits, twirling another pill between her fingers. She places this second pill on her tongue, leaning forward with practiced grace. This time, I meet her halfway without hesitation, our lips connecting with familiar intimacy. Her tongue hugs mine as if they were long-lost lovers on a mission to alleviate my pain. I swallow eagerly, already anticipating the blessed relief that will follow. When she pulls back, her eyes seem to glow with satisfaction. ¡°Another?¡± And so our game goes on and on for another four more rounds. I lean back on the couch, the pills beginning to work their magic through my system. The familiar heat spreads from my core outward, dulling the sharp edges of pain radiating from my broken hands. The room takes on that hazy, dreamlike quality I¡¯ve come to crave, colors more vibrant, textures more pronounced. Caterina watches me with predatory eyes, her crimson gaze tracking every minute change in my expression. She leans closer. Her scent is intoxicating as it envelopes me completely. Her lips curve into that smile that¡¯s equal parts seduction and threat, the one that makes my heart race despite everything I know about her. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Get naked,¡± she commands, her voice dropping to that low register that bypasses my brain and speaks directly to more primal parts of me. I laugh. ¡°Cat, I wish I could,¡± I reply, lifting my casted hands helplessly. The massive white plaster encasements bump awkwardly against each other as I attempt to reach for my belt. ¡°But I¡¯m a little... handicapped at the moment.¡± Her eyes darken with desire as she watches my clumsy movements. She slides closer, one hand moving to my thigh, fingers tracing patterns that send shivers through my drug-addled system. ¡°Let me help you then,¡± she purrs, her hand moving higher, teasing at the waistband of my pants. Before she can go further, the intercom on her desk buzzes sharply, the sound cutting through our private bubble. Caterina¡¯s head snaps toward it, irritation flashing across her perfect features. ¡°Ms. De Luca,¡± comes her secretary¡¯s voice, professional and carefully neutral. ¡°Luna Cruz is here to see you.¡± The transformation is immediate and terrifying. Caterina¡¯s entire body goes rigid, her face hardening into a mask of cold fury that makes my blood run cold despite the warmth of the medication. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees as her crimson eyes narrow to dangerous slits. ¡°Stay close, honey,¡± she says to me, her voice tight with barely contained rage. Then, looking towards the intercom, she responds with forced calm, ¡°Send her in.¡± Caterina doesn¡¯t move from the couch. Instead, she shifts closer to me, one arm sliding possessively around my shoulders while her free hand begins to methodically smooth her already perfect blonde hair. Each stroke is deliberate, as though she¡¯s preparing for battle rather than a business meeting. I try to sit up straighter, the drugs making my movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Caterina turns her attention to me, her fingers combing through my hair with surprising gentleness. She smooths down errant strands, tucks pieces behind my ears, and adjusts my collar with the meticulous care of someone arranging a prized display. ¡°There,¡± she murmurs, her crimson eyes scanning my face with critical intensity. ¡°Much better.¡± ¡°Remember,¡± she whispers, leaning close enough that her breath tickles my ear, ¡°you don¡¯t speak without my permission, and even then keep it brief.¡± ¡®New rules?¡¯ The door swings open without a knock. Luna Cruz strides into the office like she owns it, her presence immediately filling the space with a chaotic energy that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She¡¯s tall and curvaceous, her tan skin glowing with vitality beneath the office lights. Her long black hair cascades freely down her back, untamed and wild compared to Caterina¡¯s controlled perfection. She wears a bright green Hawaiian shirt that should look ridiculous in this setting but somehow radiates menace rather than vacation vibes. ¡°Caterina!¡± Luna exclaims, her voice carrying an orchestra of malice. ¡°How nice of you to see me without an appointment.¡± Luna Cruz: Chapter 41: Luna Love Bad ¡°Caterina!¡± Luna exclaims, her voice carrying an orchestra of malice. ¡°How nice of you to see me without an appointment.¡± Caterina¡¯s arm tightens around my shoulders, an instinctive gesture of possession that pulls me closer to her side. The air between the two women crackles with tension, thick enough that I could cut it with a knife if my hands weren¡¯t shattered and encased in plaster. ¡°What do you want, Luna?¡± Caterina asks, her voice is glacial despite the inferno raging in her crimson eyes. Luna¡¯s gaze slides from Caterina to me, her green eyes widening with theatrical surprise. Her full lips part in a smile. ¡°You have a toy all of a sudden,¡± Luna observes, her head tilting as she studies me like I¡¯m an interesting specimen pinned to a board. She licks her lips slowly, deliberately. ¡°Interesting choice.¡± The drugs in my system make Luna¡¯s face swim slightly at the edges, her features sharpening and blurring in waves that match my heartbeat. Despite my chemical haze, I recognize the danger radiating from her. She¡¯s different from Caterina, where Caterina is cold precision, Luna seems to be unpredictable chaos. ¡°If you fuck with him,¡± Caterina says, each word enunciated with terrifying clarity, ¡°I will bomb both of our organizations to the ground.¡± Luna throws her head back and laughs, the sound bouncing off the office walls with unsettling intensity. Her eyes never leave mine as her laughter subsides into a smile that sends ice through my veins despite the warmth of the drugs. ¡°So protective,¡± Luna purrs, taking a step closer to the couch. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you this... attached.¡± Her gaze drops to my casted hands resting uselessly in my lap. Something shifts in her expression, a flash of genuine surprise quickly masked by calculated amusement. ¡°Did you let someone hurt your boy?¡± Luna asks, her voice dripping with mock concern. Caterina¡¯s fingers dig painfully into my shoulder, her body coiled with tension beside me. ¡°What do you think?¡± she replies, her tone deceptively light. Luna¡¯s smile widens, showing too many teeth. ¡°You did that yourself,¡± she says, not a question but a statement filled with delighted certainty. ¡°Oh, Caterina. You never could control that temper of yours.¡± Luna circles the coffee table with deliberate slowness, her movements reminding me of a jungle cat sizing up potential prey. She lowers herself into a leather armchair across from us. The distance between us isn¡¯t much, but Luna has positioned herself perfectly, close enough for intimate conversation, far enough to dodge if Caterina suddenly lunges for her throat. ¡°Anyways,¡± Luna says, waving her hand dismissively as if the tension in the room is nothing more than a minor inconvenience, ¡°I just came by to say I got engaged recently.¡± Her green eyes widen with expectation as they focus on Caterina, something almost childlike in her need for a reaction. The contrast between this seemingly innocent expression and the predatory energy radiating from her is deeply unsettling. ¡°To Tony Moretti,¡± she adds, a hint of pride coloring her voice. Caterina seems completely unbothered by whatever these words mean. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Good,¡± Caterina replies, her voice flat and unimpressed. ¡°I¡¯m happy the Morettis found someone to pawn my ex-husband off to.¡± I feel a strange twinge in my chest at the word ¡°ex-husband.¡± Something about hearing Caterina refer to someone else in those terms makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. Caterina notices my furrowed brow immediately, her attention momentarily shifting from Luna to me. Her hand slides from my shoulder down to my forearm, fingers gently squeezing just below the edge of my cast in what feels like reassurance. Luna¡¯s green eyes track the movement with predatory interest, missing nothing despite her relaxed posture in the chair. ¡°Is that all?¡± Caterina asks, impatience edging into her voice. Luna leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her expression shifting to something more businesslike. ¡°Aren¡¯t you happy we can all be one big, happy mafia-cartel organization finally?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care what the Morettis think. They don¡¯t have any say in my territory,¡± Caterina says, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. Luna¡¯s expression shifts, the playfulness vanishing entirely. For the first time since entering the room, she looks completely serious, almost solemn. The transformation is jarring, like watching a carnival funhouse mirror suddenly reflect a true image. ¡°Caterina, come on,¡± Luna says, her voice dropping lower, more intimate. ¡°With my product and your distribution, we could own New England.¡± Despite my haze, I can feel Caterina¡¯s body go rigid beside me, tension radiating from her in almost tangible waves. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes go wide, not with fear but with a mixture of outrage and disbelief so powerful it momentarily cracks her perfect composure. Her lips part slightly before curving into a smile that contains no warmth, no humor, only predatory intent. ¡°I already own New England,¡± she says, each word precise and heavy with finality. ¡°You know,¡± she says, her voice dropping to something intimate and dangerous, ¡°I¡¯ve spent years building connections you couldn¡¯t imagine. The Colombians trust me now. The Salvadorans come to me first. Even the Irish have started to see things my way.¡± She stands in one fluid motion. ¡°The quality of my product has tripled while yours has stayed exactly the same,¡± she continues, pacing slowly in front of us. ¡°People are starting to talk, Caterina. They¡¯re starting to wonder if the great De Luca empire is... stagnating.¡± I feel Caterina¡¯s fingers dig painfully into my shoulder, her nails creating crescent moons of pressure through the fabric of my shirt. It kinda turns me on. Luna¡¯s gaze slides to me, her green eyes calculating beneath long lashes. ¡°And now you¡¯re distracted by your new pet project,¡± she adds, her lips curving into a smile that doesn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°So cute with his matching white suit and broken hands.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, the drugs making me unsure why she would stop to compliment me, but it¡¯s not unwelcome. ¡®It is a nice suit.¡¯ Caterina sighs at me with parent-like disappointment. Luna moves closer, leaning down until her face is level with mine. Her scent washes over me, something tropical and sharp, like pineapple soaked in gasoline. ¡°Does he even know what you are?¡± she whispers, her breath hot against my cheek. ¡°What you¡¯ve done?¡± ¡®I don¡¯t think I¡¯d even care at this point. My only life goal anymore is keeping Connor alive.¡¯ Caterina pulls me closer to her side, the movement swift and possessive. ¡°Back off,¡± she warns, her voice carrying that dangerous edge that makes my stomach clench with Pavlovian fear. Luna straightens, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. Her bangles clatter against each other, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence of the office. ¡°Fine, fine,¡± she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. ¡°I just thought you might want to be part of what¡¯s coming instead of getting crushed beneath it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Caterina says coldly. Luna turns away, moving toward the door with exaggerated casualness. Her hand rests on the doorknob as she glances back over her shoulder, her wild hair framing her face like a storm cloud. ¡°Whatever, Caterina,¡± she says with a dismissive flick of her wrist. ¡°Your loss. But don¡¯t come crawling back when your world falls apart around you.¡± Caterina barks out a laugh, the sound sharp and cutting in the still air of the office. ¡°That¡¯s what you said time, ten years ago,¡± she retorts, her crimson eyes Luna¡¯s green eyes flash dangerously, her casual demeanor evaporating like water on hot pavement. A low, animalistic growl rises from her throat, the sound primal and unsettling in the polished confines of Caterina¡¯s office. ¡°Things are different now, Caterina,¡± she snarls, her knuckles whitening as she grips the doorknob. ¡°You might own New England today, but tomorrow?¡± Her lips curl into a smile that¡¯s all teeth and no warmth. ¡°Tomorrow is coming faster than you think.¡± The door slams behind her with enough force to rattle the expensive artwork on the walls, the sound echoing in the sudden silence like a gunshot. Caterina remains perfectly still beside me, her body radiating tension and fury in equal measure. I can feel her pulse hammering through the hand that still grips my shoulder, the rhythm fast and erratic against my skin. Gradually, the rigidity in her posture softens, her breathing slows, and her fingers relax their punishing grip. ¡°Fucking Luna,¡± she mutters, reaching for her phone to tap out a quick message, presumably to security. The drugs make me bold or maybe just stupid. The question bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, slipping past my lips before I can consider the wisdom of asking it. ¡°So I heard you had an ex-husband in the past, but uhh... what¡¯s the deal with that?¡± Caterina freezes, her crimson eyes snapping to my face with laser-like intensity. For one terrifying moment, I¡¯m certain I¡¯ve overstepped, that she¡¯ll punish me for my curiosity. Instead, her expression softens into something vulnerable, another glimpse of the woman beneath the monster. She sets her phone down and turns to me fully, her hands cupping my face with loving gentleness. Her thumbs trace the line of my cheekbones, her touch feather-light and oddly comforting. ¡°Unlike you,¡± she says softly, leaning in until our foreheads almost touch, ¡°I was divorced when we met.¡± Her lips brush against mine, the kiss tender and possessive all at once. When she pulls back, her crimson eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter in my chest. ¡°And I promise,¡± she continues, her voice dropping to a whisper, ¡°I¡¯ve never loved anyone before you.¡± A confusing warmth spreads through me, separate from the chemical heat of the drugs. Something about her words, about the naked sincerity in her eyes, makes my face flush and my pulse quicken. I know I should be repulsed, should reject this twisted version of love she¡¯s offering. Instead, I find myself leaning into her touch, craving the connection despite everything. ¡°Totally,¡± I say, nodding slightly as her fingers continue their gentle exploration of my face. ¡°That¡¯s good to know. ¡®I still hate her, though.¡¯ Chapter 42: Ritalin Me This Batman I¡¯m leaning into Caterina¡¯s side on her leather couch, my head resting against her shoulder as she flips through papers on the glass coffee table. The drugs have me floating in that perfect space between awareness and oblivion, where everything feels soft around the edges, but I can still follow what¡¯s happening. ¡®Caterina would make such a good Daedra.¡¯ Her nails tap rhythmically against a stack of official-looking documents, the letterhead embossed with gold foil that catches the light. I¡¯m not really paying attention until a word jumps out at me, printed in bold legal font across the top of one page: CONSERVATORSHIP. My stomach drops. I lift my head slightly, squinting to make sure I¡¯m not hallucinating. ¡°Cat,¡± I say, my voice coming out rougher than I expected, ¡°when you told Connor and his girlfriends that you had a conservatorship over me, that was a joke, right?¡± Caterina turns to me, her crimson eyes crinkling at the corners as she laughs like I just asked the cutest question in the world. Her hand reaches up to stroke my cheek with maternal tenderness. ¡°Aww, honey, no,¡± she says, her voice warm with amusement. ¡°I got those filed the day your wife sold you to me.¡± I stare at her, trying to process what she¡¯s saying. The documents on the table seem to mock me, their official seals and signatures confirming my worst fears. My eyes trace over phrases like ¡°mental incapacity,¡± ¡°appointed guardian,¡± and ¡°financial control.¡± ¡°So you really do own me completely,¡± I say, the words falling from my lips in a defeated sigh. Caterina¡¯s expression shifts, something dangerous flickering behind her eyes. Her hand moves from my cheek to grip my chin, forcing me to look directly into those crimson depths. ¡°Don¡¯t you love me?¡± she asks, her voice suddenly sharp as a blade. I swallow hard, the phantom pain of hammers and broken bones flashing through my memory. The drugs aren¡¯t strong enough to completely suppress the terror that rises in my throat. ¡°I do,¡± I say. The fear of the hammer is enough to make the words come out. ¡°Don¡¯t you trust me?¡± Caterina asks, her voice softening as she releases my chin, her fingers trailing down to rest against my neck where my pulse hammers beneath her touch. I stare at her, trying to find words that won¡¯t trigger her rage but also won¡¯t completely surrender what little remains of my dignity. ¡°I definitely think you¡¯re acting in a way that you believe is in my best interest,¡± I finally say, the careful phrasing feeling like walking a tightrope above a pit of snakes. Something flashes across her perfect features, a momentary crack in her composure that reveals the storm beneath. Her crimson eyes narrow slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°Oh,¡± she says, the single syllable carrying volumes of dangerous displeasure. ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s in your best interest?¡± My chest tightens suddenly, breath coming in shallow gasps as the familiar sensation of panic claws its way up my throat. The room seems to shrink around me, the walls pressing inward as my heart pounds against my ribs like it¡¯s trying to escape. The conservatorship papers on the table blur and swim before my eyes, black text melting into white paper. Without thinking, I lean forward, resting my head against Caterina¡¯s chest. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat fills my ear, strong and even a counterpoint to my own frantic pulse. I close my eyes, focusing on that sound, letting it anchor me as the panic threatens to pull me under. ¡°Cat,¡± I whisper against the expensive fabric of her suit, ¡°honestly, I¡¯m scared, alright?¡± I feel her body go completely still beneath me, her breathing halting for a moment before resuming at a quicker pace. Her hands hover uncertainly in the air before settling gently on my back, one sliding up to cradle the nape of my neck with unexpected tenderness. When I glance up, her eyes are wide with surprise. She stares down at me as if seeing something miraculous and unexpected. ¡°Look at you,¡± she breathes, her voice filled with astonished delight, ¡°jumping to your lover for safety.¡± Her fingers thread through my hair, the gentle scrape of her nails against my scalp sending shivers down my spine. The panic recedes slowly, replaced by a confusing mixture of shame and relief. I should be horrified that I¡¯ve sought comfort from my captor, but in this moment, all I feel is the blessed absence of fear. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I mumble against her chest. ¡°I came to you because I felt nervous.¡± I lie like the genius I am. ¡®I would never seek her out for comfort.¡¯ I think to myself as I lean into Cat. ¡°It¡¯s not like the conservatorship matters,¡± I say, the words flowing easily. ¡°It¡¯s not like I would even leave at this point.¡± Caterina¡¯s expression softens, a genuine smile spreading across her perfect features. Her hands cup my face with reverent tenderness, thumbs brushing against my cheekbones in soothing circles. ¡°That makes me so happy to hear,¡± she whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to my forehead. The touch of her lips lingers, warm and possessive against my skin. I glance around the opulent office, taking in the gleaming surfaces, the expensive artwork, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bustling casino floor below. A question bubbles up from somewhere in my drug-addled brain. ¡°Cat, why haven¡¯t you named this casino?¡± I ask, the non-sequitur slipping out before I can filter it. Her hands freeze against my face, her body going rigid beside me. Something flickers across her expression, confusion, then disbelief, then annoyance. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply as if summoning patience from some hidden reserve. ¡°Adam,¡± she says slowly, her voice carefully controlled, ¡°how many times have you been here?¡± I blink at her, genuinely puzzled by the question. My memories feel fragmented, disconnected, like pieces of different puzzles jumbled together in the same box. ¡°I think just the other day when we went to get pizza,¡± I reply, furrowing my brow with the effort of recollection. ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± she mutters, releasing my face and leaning back against the couch. ¡°You¡¯ve been coming to work with me for weeks here,¡± she says, her crimson eyes studying me with clinical intensity as if trying to determine whether I¡¯m lying or truly confused. A chill runs through me, separate from the drugs, from the pain, from everything else. Have I lost time? Have entire weeks slipped through my fingers without me noticing? ¡°How long have my hands been in a cast?¡± I ask, suddenly desperate to anchor myself to some concrete timeline. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes widen slightly, a flicker of something that might almost be concern passing across her perfect features. ¡°A little over a month, baby,¡± she says, her voice softening to that motherly tone that makes my skin crawl even as it soothes me. ¡°The doctor says they¡¯re healing well. We should be able to remove the casts in another few weeks, assuming you continue to be good.¡± ¡°It only felt like a few days for me,¡± I exclaim, genuine shock, making my voice crack slightly. The room seems to tilt slightly around me, the expensive furnishings blurring at the edges as I try to process this information. A month. I¡¯ve lost almost an entire month of my life to this drugged haze. Caterina studies my face with that predatory intensity, her crimson eyes missing nothing as they track every minute change in my expression. Caterina¡¯s expression softens into something almost tender as she watches the horror dawn across my face. Her hand slides up to cup my cheek, her touch grounding me even as my mind races with the implications of this lost time. ¡°I¡¯ll adjust your medication tonight, okay?¡± She says, her voice gentle as if speaking to a frightened child. ¡°I need you to remember me, after all.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± I say, realizing I lost the plot. ¡°What is the name of the casino?¡± Caterina¡¯s lips curve into a slow, indulgent smile that transforms her face into something almost girlish, a flash of genuine delight breaking through her usual calculated perfection. ¡°It¡¯s called La Reale,¡± she says, her crimson eyes lighting up with pride. ¡°It means ¡®The Royale¡¯ in Italian. This will be our legacy, Adam.¡± She gestures toward the window, where the casino floor spreads out below us like a glittering sea. From this height, the gaming tables form intricate patterns, the movement of patrons and dealers creating a living mosaic of activity. ¡°The name is on everything,¡± she continues, her voice taking on that lecturing tone she uses when explaining something she thinks should be obvious. ¡°The chips, the uniforms, the letterhead. There¡¯s a fifteen-foot gold sign when you enter the main lobby.¡± I stare at her blankly, trying to conjure any memory of this supposed signage. Nothing comes up despite suddenly seeing the branding all over the place. ¡°La Reale,¡± I repeat, testing the name on my tongue. ¡°It sounds Spanish.¡± ¡°Adam, Come on, it¡¯s literally the only casino in Boston,¡± Caterina says as if she¡¯s trying to make her life¡¯s work sound appealing to someone else on the playground. I ponder for a moment, my drugged mind bouncing between thoughts like a pinball in an arcade machine. The conversation about the casino¡¯s name suddenly seems unimportant, and a new question forms in my foggy brain. ¡°Hey, why did you end up getting a divorce from Tony Maserati?¡± I ask, genuinely curious about this mysterious ex-husband. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Caterina¡¯s perfect eyebrows lift slightly. ¡°Moretti,¡± she corrects me gently, her crimson eyes softening with something that looks almost like exhaustion. ¡°Your ADHD is going crazy today, baby. You¡¯re like a pinball machine.¡± She sighs deeply, tucking a strand of her immaculate blonde hair behind her ear. ¡°His sister made a play for my territory in the name of ¡®family,¡¯¡± she explains, her voice dropping to that dangerous register that usually signals violence to follow. ¡°So I had Lara torture her and send her back to the head of her family in pieces.¡± The words hang in the air between us, horrific and casual all at once. I wait for the shock to hit me, for the disgust and terror to flood my system. But nothing comes. My emotional responses feel distant, disconnected, like I¡¯m watching someone else¡¯s reaction to a movie. ¡°Understandable,¡± I say, the word slipping out easily, naturally. Satisfaction flickers across Caterina¡¯s face. Her crimson eyes study me with renewed interest, as though I¡¯ve passed some test I didn¡¯t know I was taking. ¡°Come here,¡± she murmurs, opening her arms. Her arms wrap around me, strong and secure, her scent enveloping me completely. ¡°We¡¯ll have to get you on Adderall too.¡± La Reale: Chapter 43: The Path is Claire [Claire¡¯s POV] I¡¯m smiling. The world feels lighter today than it has in months. My two-month chip feels even heavier in my hand than my 30-day one did. Like it actually means something. Like I¡¯m actually accomplishing something real for the first time in years. As I head into the guest room for my visitor, my stomach does a little flip. Hopefully I¡¯m not meeting with Caterina this time. The memory of Adam in that racing helmet, broken and drugged, has haunted my dreams every night since I saw him. It¡¯s been the fuel keeping me sober these last thirty days. Every time I¡¯ve felt the itch to find a card game, I¡¯ve seen his helmet-covered head bobbing in that mechanical nod. I get into the room and scan the faces, expecting to see anyone i know. Instead, my gaze lands on a woman I don¡¯t recognize sitting at a table near the window. Tall, imposing, with long black hair and striking green eyes. She wears a bright green Hawaiian shirt that should look ridiculous but somehow doesn¡¯t. A golden cross glints at her throat. She waves me down with a bright smile. ¡°Claire, yes?¡± Her voice carries across the room, confident and cheerful. I hesitate, something primal in my brain setting off alarm bells. This woman gives off the same dangerous energy as Caterina, just packaged differently. Like comparing a tiger to a panther, different stripes, same teeth. I sit down across from her, nervously fiddling with my sobriety chip. ¡°Hello.¡± ¡°Luna Cruz,¡± she says, extending her hand across the table. Her grip is firm, her tan skin warm against mine. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking forward to meeting you.¡± The cross necklace catches the fluorescent lights as she leans forward, her smile never quite reaching those piercing green eyes. ¡°So, how¡¯s recovery treating you?¡± Luna asks, glancing at the chip I¡¯m still turning over in my hand. ¡°Two months is impressive. Most people don¡¯t make it this far.¡± ¡®God, everyone just knows everything.¡¯ I tuck the chip into my pocket, suddenly self-conscious. ¡°It¡¯s been... challenging. But worth it.¡± Luna nods sympathetically, though something in her expression suggests she¡¯s never faced a challenge she couldn¡¯t immediately crush underfoot. ¡°Addiction is a beast. My sister struggled with it for years before finding her way.¡± She taps her cross. ¡°Through faith and family support.¡± The casual mention of family makes me flinch internally. My own family washed their hands of me after the third time I stole from them to fund my gambling. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°That¡¯s nice,¡± I say lamely, still trying to figure out why this stranger wanted to meet me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but have we met before? I don¡¯t remember¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re married to Adam Anderson, right? Mrs. Claire Anderson?¡± Luna interrupts her tone suddenly direct. I blink, taken aback by the abrupt shift. ¡°Correct. Yes.¡± Luna leans forward, her green eyes intense and calculating. There¡¯s something predatory in her gaze that reminds me uncomfortably of Caterina. ¡°Well, listen,¡± she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. ¡°I looked into it, and I¡¯ve got an idea of the deal you made with Caterina, and I have to assume you would like to get your husband back, correct?¡± My heart skips a beat. I glance around the visiting room, suddenly paranoid that Caterina might have other eyes and ears here. The orderly by the door seems absorbed in his phone, and the other visitors are engaged in their own conversations. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s possible,¡± I whisper, leaning closer despite myself. Luna leans back in her chair. She spreads her hands wide, a grin spreading across her face that reminds me of a shark that¡¯s just spotted blood in the water. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s definitely possible,¡± she says with absolute certainty as if we¡¯re discussing something as simple as changing a lightbulb rather than extracting my husband from the clutches of Boston¡¯s most feared criminal. My heart hammers in my chest, hope and suspicion warring within me. ¡°What do you want?¡± I ask bluntly. Luna¡¯s green eyes gleam as she studies me, her fingers absently playing with the golden cross at her neck. ¡°You¡¯re going back to work after this at the casino, right? La Reale?¡± I nod solemnly. ¡°Yeah, Caterina sent the papers the other day. I assumed I¡¯d be fired after this was said and done, but she seems to be letting me keep my job for now.¡± The revelation shocked me when the rehab counselor handed me the envelope last week. Inside was a letter on La Reale¡¯s expensive letterhead confirming my position would be held for me upon completion of my treatment program. I couldn¡¯t figure out why Caterina would want me back, especially after showing me what she¡¯d done to Adam. Luna¡¯s smile widens, something dark and calculating flickering behind her eyes. She leans forward, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. ¡°Fantastic, wonderful even,¡± she says, her tone dripping with satisfaction. ¡°I¡¯m simply looking to have a little birdy feed me info. You can do that, can¡¯t you?¡± The request hangs between us, deceptively simple yet laden with danger. Being Luna¡¯s informant could get me killed. ¡°How would you get my Adam back?¡± I ask, trying to keep the desperate hope from my voice. She flashes me a confident look, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching upward. Her hand comes down to cover mine, her skin warm and dry, her grip just a little too tight to be comforting. ¡°Let me worry about that,¡± Luna says, her voice soft but edged with steel. ¡°But I promise on my mother, when I¡¯m through with Caterina, Adam is all yours.¡± With all the awful things I¡¯ve done to Adam, this seems like God is giving me a lifeline. The universe doesn¡¯t usually offer second chances to people like me, addicts who sell their husbands to pay gambling debts. But here it is, dressed like a Latina Antonia Montana and offering me exactly what I need. I stare at Luna¡¯s outstretched hand. ¡°If I help you,¡± I say, my voice barely above a whisper, ¡°I want guarantees. I need to know Adam will be safe.¡± Luna¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t waver. ¡°Of course. My word is my bond.¡± Her fingers tap against the golden cross at her throat. ¡°I swear it.¡± The memory of Adam in that helmet flashes through my mind again, the mechanical nod, the flat voice, the way he swayed like a puppet with half its strings cut. Whatever Caterina¡¯s done to him goes beyond broken hands. She¡¯s destroyed something inside him, something essential. ¡®He was like a husk.¡¯ Luna¡¯s green eyes gleam with something that might be understanding or might be triumph. It¡¯s hard to tell the difference with women like her. ¡°So we have a deal?¡± she asks, her hand still extended between us, patient and inevitable. I take a deep breath. ¡°Okay.¡± I hold out my hand, and Luna seems almost surprised how easy it was to convince me. Maybe she expected more resistance, more questions. But she doesn¡¯t understand the weight of guilt I carry, doesn¡¯t know how the image of Adam¡¯s broken hands keeps me awake at night. She grips my hand tightly, her skin warm and dry against mine. Our eyes lock, and in that moment, I can just tell, this is a deal with the devil. Maybe not the same devil as Caterina, but a devil nonetheless. The kind that smiles while she cuts your throat. ¡°Wonderful,¡± Luna says, releasing my hand. ¡°I knew you were a smart woman, Claire.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not smart,¡± I reply, rubbing my palm against my jeans. ¡°I¡¯m desperate.¡± Luna laughs, the sound bright and genuine in a way that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. ¡°Desperation is an excellent motivator. Better than money, better than loyalty.¡± Luna reaches into her garish Hawaiian shirt pocket and pulls out a small flip phone, the kind I haven¡¯t seen since 2005. It¡¯s black, nondescript, the perfect burner. She slides it across the table to me with a casual flick of her wrist, like she¡¯s passing a business card instead of evidence of a conspiracy. ¡°When you get out of here, give me a call,¡± she says, tapping the phone with one perfectly manicured nail. ¡°I¡¯ll give you instructions.¡± I pick up the phone, its plastic casing weird against my fingers. I slip it into my pocket quickly. ¡°Okay,¡± I whisper, the word barely audible even to my own ears. Luna rises from her chair in one fluid motion, towering over me. Her smile stretches wider, revealing teeth too white, too perfect. ¡°Head up, girl,¡± she says, her sweet as sugar but her eyes cold as winter. ¡°Change is on the way.¡± Clairillionaire: Chapter 44: Chat, is He Cooked? [Adam¡¯s Pov] I¡¯m nestled against Caterina¡¯s chest, my massive white casts resting lazily like hibernating polar bears. The penthouse living room surrounds us in muted luxury. Boston glitters beneath us, tiny cars and tinier people moving in miniature, a world I used to belong to. The massive television mounted on the wall flickers with bright colors, the roar of engines filling the room as Formula 1 cars tear around a track at impossible speeds. I¡¯m only half paying attention. ¡°So that¡¯s Valentina,¡± Caterina says, her breath warm against my ear as she points toward a slim figure in a red racing suit. The camera zooms in on a woman removing her helmet, revealing a face that shares Caterina¡¯s sharp features and determined jaw, though her hair is shorter, cut in a practical bob rather than flowing blonde locks. ¡°She looks like you,¡± I mumble, watching as Valentina strides toward a group of reporters, her posture radiating the same predatory confidence I¡¯ve come to recognize in Caterina. ¡°She¡¯s my Mother¡¯s sister¡¯s daughter,¡± Caterina explains, her fingers idly stroking my hair. ¡°The De Luca competitive streak runs strong in both of us.¡± On screen, Valentina answers questions with a tight smile, her Italian accent thicker than the Great Molasses Flood of 1919 which killed 21 people in Boston. ¡®Did that still happen?¡¯ The camera pans to her car, sleek and red, with sponsor logos plastered across every surface. The announcers are discussing something about tire strategy and pit stops, their voices blending together in a meaningless drone as my attention drifts. Valentina¡¯s face appears again, this time with a clear expression of disappointment. ¡°Is she good?¡± I ask, watching as Valentina removes her racing gloves with sharp, frustrated movements. Caterina sighs, her chest rising and falling beneath my head. ¡°She was the best. Seven world championships with Mercedes, but since she switched to Ferrari, she¡¯s only made the podium a few times.¡± I nod as if this means something to me. ¡°Oh, so like she got nervous?¡± ¡°No,¡± Caterina says, her tone suggesting I¡¯ve said something ridiculous. ¡°Ferrari just sucks.¡± ¡°It¡¯s like Mario Kart, right?¡± I ask, genuinely trying to find some point of reference in my foggy brain. ¡°Why can¡¯t she win with Ferrari?¡± ¡°Mario Kart?¡± Caterina repeats, her brow furrowing in confusion like she¡¯s never heard of it. She shakes her head slightly, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°This is more of a girl thing,¡± she explains with exaggerated patience. ¡°A boy like you wouldn¡¯t care about F1.¡± I stare at Caterina for a long moment, feeling like I should argue with her dismissive categorization. After all, I might enjoy racing. I could have interests she doesn¡¯t know about. But as our eyes meet, the fight drains out of me like air from a punctured tire. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡®I don¡¯t give a fuck about racing, to be honest.¡¯ ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°I¡¯ve never really followed sports.¡± Caterina smiles, triumphant yet tender, and runs her fingers through my hair. The sensation sends pleasant tingles down my spine, and I lean into her touch like a cat seeking affection. ¡°So we¡¯re gonna go to Italy to see her race?¡± I ask, my voice lifting with unexpected enthusiasm. ¡°Yeah,¡± she says, leaning down to kiss the back of my head. Her lips linger there, warm and possessive. ¡°We¡¯ll fly out in a few weeks. I¡¯ve already arranged everything.¡± A thought occurs to me, fragments of my old life surfacing through the chemical haze. ¡°Do I have a passport?¡± Caterina laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest against my ear. ¡°Baby, you have dozens of passports, remember?¡± She traces her finger along my jawline. ¡°American, Canadian, British, whatever you need.¡± I furrow my brow, trying to focus. ¡°I think I only need one.¡± She kisses my neck, her lips finding that sensitive spot just below my ear. ¡°Yeah, baby. Don¡¯t worry about anything.¡± As her words sink in, I feel a strange lightness spreading through me, like a helium filling a balloon. Lately, my entire life has revolved around just following Caterina, but I have no worries at all. I eat lavish meals, she fucks me every night, I sleep well, and the drugs are a ton of fun. There¡¯s no bills to pay, no deadlines to meet, no responsibilities weighing me down. Just pleasure, comfort, and the steady rhythm of days spent in luxurious captivity. ¡°Adam,¡± Caterina says, her crimson eyes studying my face with curious intensity, ¡°you¡¯re so happy right now.¡± ¡°What?¡± I blink, pulled from my thoughts. ¡°You¡¯re smiling so wide,¡± she observes, her head tilting slightly. ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± The question catches me off-guard. I can¡¯t tell her the truth, that despite everything she¡¯s done, despite the broken hands and the drugged haze and the murder of an innocent woman, I¡¯m finding comfort in this twisted arrangement. That would be admitting to be complicit. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say instead, the lie slipping easily from my lips. Caterina¡¯s hand moves to cup my cheek, turning my body toward hers. Her crimson eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat. ¡°I love you,¡± she says softly, the words hanging in the air between us. I hesitate for a moment, not because I¡¯m unwilling to say it, but because I¡¯m afraid I might mean it. Somewhere along the way, between the drugs, the pain, and the warped comfort she provides, something has shifted inside me. The line between compliance for survival and genuine feeling has blurred beyond recognition. ¡°I love you too,¡± I finally whisper, unsure if I want to be obedient or if it¡¯s something deeper. Her face transforms, lighting up with a joy so pure and intense it¡¯s almost painful to witness. She then composes herself back to the usual Caterina I know. ¡°Are you excited to get your casts off?¡± she asks, her fingers tracing the edge of the plaster where it meets my skin. I glance down at the bulky white encasements that have become such a familiar part of my existence. ¡°I¡¯m excited not to bash anything with them anymore,¡± I reply with a small laugh. The humor fades quickly as I voice the fear that¡¯s been growing inside me. ¡°I¡¯m really nervous my hands will never be the same again, though.¡± Caterina leans closer, her lips brushing against my ear. ¡°A part of me hopes the nerve damage is so bad that I have to always hold it while you piss,¡± she whispers, her voice dropping dangerously low. A corrupted warmth spreads through me at her words. A disgusting piece of me wants that, too. Wants to be cared for, dependent, bound to her through necessity as much as emotion. The thought should horrify me, but instead, it fills me with a perverse comfort. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you rather not have to wait on me all the time?¡± I ask, trying to sound reasonable despite the flush spreading across my cheeks. She scoffs, pulling back to look at me with amused disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re so easy, practically no trouble at all.¡± Her hand slides into my hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she pulls me closer. ¡°You¡¯re such a good boy, after all.¡± I melt into her, my body responding to her praise like a flower turning toward the sun. Her approval washes over me, drowning out the small voice of reason that still tries to remind me of who she really is, of what she¡¯s done. ¡®Loving her would keep Connor safe.¡¯ I think to myself another justification for these feelings. ¡®It seems to be the most selfless choice.¡¯ ***** The evening stretches on, Formula 1 coverage giving way to some documentary about marine life that neither of us is really watching. My mind drifts like seaweed in the ocean currents. As I watch a school of colorful fish dart across the massive television screen, a sudden realization crashes through my consciousness with startling clarity. We must be in the third month now. The deal Claire made with Caterina was for four months. The thought sends a strange jolt of anxiety through me. ¡®I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready for this to end so soon.¡¯ ¡°Cat,¡± I say, my voice sounding more nervous than I would like, ¡°the deal you made with...¡± I pause, deliberately avoiding Claire¡¯s name, knowing how it triggers Caterina¡¯s wrath, ¡°with her. It was for four months, right?¡± Caterina¡¯s body tenses beneath mine, the gentle rhythm of her breathing interrupted by my question. Her fingers, which had been absently stroking my hair, freeze mid-motion. The sudden stillness radiates through her like a shockwave, and I can feel her crimson eyes boring into the top of my head, though I don¡¯t dare look up. ¡°What did you just ask me?¡± she says, her voice filled with the same malice it had before she swung the hammer. I swallow hard, regretting my question immediately but unable to take it back. ¡°The arrangement,¡± I clarify, trying to sound casual despite the rapid acceleration of my heart rate. ¡°It was temporary, wasn¡¯t it? For four months?¡± The seconds stretch into an eternity as I wait for her response, for the explosion of rage that will surely follow my question. But instead, her arms tighten around me, pulling me closer with a desperation that catches me off guard. ¡°Is that what you want?¡± she asks, her voice empty of emotion. ¡°For our arrangement to end?¡± My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of how much I¡¯ve changed. The thought of her discarding me fills me with panic that claws up my throat like a desperate animal. ¡°I mean...¡± I stammer, avoiding her piercing crimson gaze. ¡°Four months doesn¡¯t really seem like enough time for everything, you know? It doesn¡¯t seem fair to you.¡± I swallow hard, searching for words that will maybe extend my time even a little bit. ¡°Four months to cover four hundred thousand dollars from her gambling debts? Surely thats not a fair exchange right?¡± I watch Caterina¡¯s face transform, a mesmerizing progression of emotions crossing her perfect features. First comes surprise, her eyes wide and calculating. Then, unexpectedly, her lips twitch upward, a surprised laugh bubbling from her throat. The sound is genuine, unguarded in a way I¡¯ve rarely heard from her. But what truly shocks me is what follows, her crimson eyes grow shiny with moisture, her expression softening into something so vulnerable it¡¯s almost unrecognizable. She looks... touched. Moved by my pathetic attempt to extend my captivity. ¡°Are you asking if you can stay, Adam?¡± Caterina asks. I feel surprised to see her so unbalanced. ¡°Of course not,¡± I lie quickly. ¡°I just wonder if... if maybe I¡¯d be safer with you for a bit longer.¡± She wipes a tear away as she laughs through her emotions, the sound somewhere between joy and disbelief. Her hand trembles slightly against my face. ¡°Adam,¡± she says, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯re stuck here. You¡¯re not going anywhere. You were never going anywhere. I was never going to release you. You will die with me.¡± ¡®What a terrifying way to put it.¡¯ She hugs me tight again, pulling me against her chest. ¡°But I¡¯m so happy to see you wanting to stay on your own,¡± she whispers, her lips brushing against my hair. She shifts, her mouth finding my ear. Her breath is hot against my skin as she whispers seductively, ¡°You¡¯re a very, very good boy, after all.¡± I¡¯m disappointed with myself for how much those words make me swoon. A warm shiver runs down my spine, and I feel myself melting into her embrace like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. My broken hands twitch uselessly at my sides, wanting to return her embrace despite everything she¡¯s done to me. ¡°Thanks,¡± I murmur against her shoulder. Valentina: Chapter 45: The Geese is Leese I¡¯m sitting on the edge of an examination table, the paper sheet crinkling beneath me with every nervous shift of my weight. The small medical room in the private wing of Boston General feels too bright, too sterile, too real compared to the hazy cocoon I¡¯ve been living in lately. My massive white casts rest on my thighs like dead things, alien attachments that have become so familiar I¡¯m not sure I remember what it felt like before them. Caterina stands beside me, her statuesque figure perfectly still except for her fingers drumming against her thigh, the only outward sign of her excitement. Her crimson eyes are fixed on my casts with an intensity that feels creepy. ¡°Nervous, baby?¡± she asks, noticing my face. Her voice carries that maternal tenderness that feels nice lately. ¡°Yeah,¡± I admit, swallowing hard against the dryness in my throat. ¡°What if they fused into chicken wings?¡± She smiles, warm and reassuring, placing her hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently. ¡°Then I¡¯ll take care of you forever,¡± she says as if this is the most romantic promise in the world and not a terrifying life sentence. The door opens with a soft click, and Doctor Ramirez enters, her expression professional but kind. She greets us with a small nod, her eyes quickly assessing my nervous posture. ¡°Good morning, Mr. Anderson,¡± she says, her voice carrying that practiced calm all doctors seem to master. ¡°Ready to see those hands again?¡± I nod, not trusting my voice. A strange mixture of anticipation and dread churns in my stomach. These casts have been my reality for so long that I¡¯m both desperate to be free of them and terrified of what lies beneath. ¡°The X-rays don¡¯t look to bad,¡± Doctor Ramirez continues, pulling up digital images on a wall-mounted screen. She points to ghostly white shapes that mean nothing to me. ¡°The bones have healed nicely. I¡¯m not sure how much movement you¡¯ll be able to get out of your hands, though.¡± She wheels a small cart closer, arranging a variety of tools that look alarmingly similar to small saws and scissors. ¡°This won¡¯t hurt,¡± she assures me, noticing my wide eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll feel some vibration, maybe some pressure, but no pain.¡± Caterina moves closer, her hand sliding to the back of my neck in what feels like both comfort and restraint. Her thumb traces small circles against my skin, the gesture soothing despite everything. ¡°I¡¯ll be right here,¡± she murmurs, her crimson eyes never leaving my face. Doctor Ramirez picks up what looks like a miniature saw. The machine whirs to life, its high-pitched buzz filling the small room. I close my eyes as she brings it to the edge of my left cast, feeling the vibration travel up my arm. The sensation is strange but not painful, like sitting on a washing machine during the spin cycle. The process seems to take forever, the doctor working methodically around each cast, the vibration occasionally making my teeth chatter. Finally, she sets the cutter aside. ¡°Now for the exciting part,¡± she says with an encouraging smile. ¡°Let¡¯s see those hands.¡± She inserts what looks like specialized scissors into the cut she¡¯s made and snips through the padding beneath. With practiced movements, she spreads the cast apart, the plaster cracking along the seam she¡¯s created. Cool air rushes against my skin for the first time in months, the sensation both shocking and wonderful. The relief is immediate, an itching I didn¡¯t even realize I¡¯d grown accustomed to suddenly accessible to the air. ¡°Oh my god,¡± I breathe, staring down at what should be my hands. I blink hard, trying to process what I¡¯m seeing. My hands look like they belong to a corpse. The skin is mottled with purple and yellow bruising that¡¯s faded to a sickly greenish hue. Surgical scars zigzag across my knuckles like tiny railroad tracks, the stitches long removed but leaving behind raised, angry lines. It seem¡¯s like theres even screws somewhere underneath. ¡°Fuck,¡± I whisper, the word escaping before I can stop it. Doctor Ramirez¡¯s expression remains neutral, professional, but I catch the slight tightening around her eyes. ¡°This is actually quite good, considering the extent of the damage,¡± she says, her voice deliberately calm. ¡°The discoloration and dead skin are normal after such a long immobilization. That will come off naturally.¡± I can¡¯t take my eyes off them. These alien appendages that used to be my hands. The dead skin peels off in places, revealing raw, pink flesh underneath that looks painful to the touch. My fingers are curled slightly inward, like the hands of an arthritic old man. They¡¯re thinner than I remember, atrophied from disuse, the bones more prominent beneath the discolored skin. I feel tears welling up in my eyes, hot and humiliating. ¡°Cat,¡± I choke out, my voice barely audible as I struggle to contain the sob building in my throat. ¡°Shhh, it¡¯s okay, baby, I¡¯m right here,¡± Caterina whispers, her arm sliding around my shoulders with practiced ease. I lean deeper into her, seeking comfort from the very person who caused this damage. The irony will never be lost on me, but in this moment, her embrace feels like the only solid thing in a world that¡¯s suddenly spinning out of control. Her hand strokes my hair with a loving tenderness, each touch a reminder of how completely dependent I¡¯ve become. Doctor Ramirez clears her throat gently, her clipboard clutched against her chest like a shield. ¡°I want to see mobility,¡± she says, her professional tone barely masking her concern. ¡°We¡¯re not expecting much here, but we might as well check.¡± She gestures toward my hands with her pen. ¡°Try to close your hands.¡± I stare at my hands, willing them to move. I focus on each finger, imagining them curling into a fist. They twitch awkwardly, barely responding to my mental commands. Doctor Ramirez watches closely, her expression giving nothing away until she finally speaks. ¡°Between the nerve damage and muscular atrophy, it¡¯s going to be a long road,¡± she says, flipping through her notes with a hint of something that feels like pity. ¡°I¡¯m really not sure how much function you¡¯ll get back.¡± I close my eyes and breathe out slowly, fighting the urge to cry more. The reality of her words hits me like a punch to the gut. Caterina slides closer, her arm wrapping around my waist as Doctor Ramirez busies herself with putting away her tools. I can feel Cat¡¯s breath against my ear, warm and intimate in this clinical setting. Her lips brush against my earlobe, ¡°You hear that, Adam? Looks like I¡¯ll get to control you forever.¡± As she whispers I can feel the manic smile on her lips. A new fear hatches in my mind. ¡°Won¡¯t you get sick of me?¡± The thought of being alone with these useless hands terrifies me to my core. Without Cat, how would I eat? Dress myself? Use the bathroom? The dependency that once felt like a prison now feels like my only protection against a hostile world. She turns my face toward hers, her crimson eyes burning with passion. Her voice drops even lower as she whispers to me. ¡°Adam, as long as you never run away again, I would move a mountain for you.¡± She hugs me in a way that feels deeply possessive. The kind of embrace I¡¯m desperate for in this moment. Her arms encircle me completely, one hand cradling the back of my head, pressing my face into the crook of her neck. I breathe her in, letting her presence soothe the panic threatening to overwhelm me. ¡°I love you, Adam,¡± she says. ¡°I love you too.¡± The words slip out as if they¡¯re the easiest thing to say in the world. As if I was born to say those four words. ***** The water ripples around us, steam rising in lazy curls that dance toward the bathroom ceiling. I¡¯m sitting in Caterina¡¯s massive marble bathtub, the one that could easily fit four people but today holds just the two of us. The penthouse bathroom gleams with polished surfaces and gold fixtures, everything pristine and perfect, just like her. My hands float uselessly in the water before me. The skin is patchy and discolored. Zombie like. Caterina kneels beside me in the tub, naked and glorious. The bathroom lights catch in her blonde hair, turning it to liquid gold that falls in perfect waves over her shoulders. Her crimson eyes are focused intently on my hands as she works, her brow furrowed slightly with concentration. ¡°Does this hurt?¡± she asks, her voice soft as she applies more of the expensive exfoliating scrub to my right hand. Her fingers move gently, working the scrub in small circles over my damaged skin. ¡°A little,¡± I admit, watching as dead skin sloughs off under her ministrations. ¡°But it¡¯s okay.¡± She smiles, pleased with my acceptance of the pain. ¡°Good boy,¡± she murmurs, the praise washing over me like a warm wave. I can¡¯t help but stare at her body as she works. The curve of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, the strong lines of her shoulders and arms. She¡¯s built like some ancient goddess, powerful and perfect in every way. It¡¯s hard to believe someone so beautiful could be so monstrous, but I¡¯ve long since stopped trying to reconcile these contradictions. ¡°The dead skin needs to come off for the new skin to breathe.¡± She says, her fingers sliding between mine to work the scrub into the sensitive crevices. I hiss through clenched teeth, unable to hide my discomfort as she scrubs a particularly raw patch of skin. The sound escapes before I can stop it, echoing slightly against the bathroom¡¯s marble surfaces. Caterina looks at me with panic and says, ¡°Oh baby no.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I say, trying to sound braver than I feel. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She says, ¡°Let me go get you something for the pain.¡± She stands up in the bathtub, the water sloshing around her long legs. Rivulets run down her naked body, tracing paths I¡¯ve memorized with my eyes a thousand times now. I see her pussy in all its glory, perfectly maintained and somehow intimidating even in its vulnerability. The neat blonde strip above it catches the light, drawing my eyes like a beacon. My body responds immediately, predictably, like Pavlov¡¯s dog hearing a bell. She notices my gaze lingering, follows it to the growing evidence of my arousal beneath the water¡¯s surface. A knowing smile spreads across her face, equal parts predatory and pleased. ¡°Adam,¡± she says, her voice dropping to a breathy tone that leaves me wanting more, ¡°after, okay? Let¡¯s take care of your hands first.¡± I feel my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment, caught in my obvious desire despite the pain radiating from my hands. ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying anything,¡± I mumble, staring at the bubbles floating on the water¡¯s surface. ¡°Of course not,¡± she says with that maternal tone that somehow makes me feel both childish and cherished. She steps out of the tub, water cascading off her perfect form. I watch her move with graceful confidence, her steps precise and deliberate as she crosses the steamy bathroom. She opens the medicine cabinet, scanning the rows of pill bottles. Her fingers dance over the labels, selecting one with the casual familiarity of someone who¡¯s memorized every pharmaceutical in her arsenal. She plucks a single white pill from the orange bottle, inspecting it between her fingers. Then, with a mischievous smile that makes my heart race, she brings it to her breast. With deliberate slowness, she places the pill on her nipple, balancing it there like a magic trick. The pink areola puckers slightly under the cool touch of the medication, and she arches her back just enough to present herself to me like an offering. ¡°Oh no,¡± she says with exaggerated concern, her crimson eyes dancing with wicked amusement. ¡°It looks like you¡¯ll have to suck it off me.¡± My body responds instantly, hunger overriding pain, desire drowning out the pain ringing in my hands. I lean forward eagerly as she approaches the tub, water sloshing around me with my sudden movement. She steps back into the bath, the water embracing her calves as she stands over me, her breast level with my face. The pill gleams white against her pink nipple. I dig in like it¡¯s a feast, my mouth closing around her nipple with desperate enthusiasm. The pill is swallowed instantly off my tongue, bitter medicine mixing with the sweetness of her skin. I don¡¯t pull away once the pill is gone, instead sucking harder, drawing a gasp from her perfect lips. Her fingers thread through my hair, gripping tightly as she holds me against her breast. ¡°Such a good boy,¡± she purrs, the words vibrating through her chest and into my mouth. Caterina¡¯s hand tightens in my hair, pulling my face deeper into her breast as I continue to suckle. The taste of the pill fades from my tongue, replaced by the salt of her skin and something uniquely her. ¡°God, the way you need me,¡± she whispers, her voice thick with desire. ¡°Look at you. So desperate. So needy.¡± My hands hover uselessly at my sides, too broken to touch her, but my mouth works overtime to compensate. I trail kisses across her chest, finding her other breast, taking the nipple between my lips with the same desperate hunger. Her breathing quickens, each exhale carrying a soft moan that echoes against the bathroom¡¯s polished surfaces. Steam curls around us like a living thing, cocooning us in our own private world of heat and desire. The pill begins to work its magic, spreading warmth through my veins that has nothing to do with the hot water or Caterina¡¯s body. The pain in my hands recedes to a distant throb. Any lingering anxiety seems to fly away. Caterina slides down into the water, her body gliding against mine as she settles next to me. The water parts for her, welcoming her like an old lover. Her crimson eyes capture mine as they fill with a frustration. ¡°Adam, I said after.¡± Her voice tinged with what feels like a false anger. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Chapter 46: Dependence Day Her touch is feather-light as she works each joint, gently pushing my fingers to their limits before releasing them. The skin doesn¡¯t look like ground beef anymore, but the angry red scars crisscross my hands like a roadmap of everything I¡¯ve lost. My fingers curl inward slightly when she releases them. ¡°You¡¯re doing so well,¡± she speaks, her voice soft with that maternal pride that still makes like the only man in the world. ¡°The doctor says consistency is key.¡± I¡¯m trying not to wince as she extends my pinky finger, stretching it to a point where it feels like the skin might tear along the surgical scars. A dull ache pulses through the digit, but it¡¯s nothing compared to the hammer. Nothing will ever compare to that. ¡°Does it hurt?¡± she asks, her crimson eyes flicking up to meet mine. ¡°Yeah,¡± I admit. ¡°But it¡¯s fine.¡± She continues the exercises with my other hand, moving each finger individually, her eyes following the movement with laser-like focus. There¡¯s something almost reverent in her gaze like she¡¯s handling something precious and irreplaceable. Her crimson eyes soften at the edges, her perfect lips parted slightly in concentration as she works the stiff joints with expert care. My fingers look like pale, broken twigs in her strong, capable hands. She manipulates them with such tenderness, such precision. ¡°Try to make a fist for me,¡± she instructs, her voice gentle but firm. I concentrate, willing my fingers to curl inward. They twitch pathetically, barely moving a centimeter before the pain flares up, hot and insistent. Sweat beads on my forehead from the effort, and I exhale sharply, unable to hide my discomfort. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± she encourages as if I¡¯ve accomplished something remarkable instead of a sad approximation of a basic function. ¡°You¡¯re doing so well, baby.¡± Her eyes never leave my hands as she works, studying every millimeter of movement with an intensity that feels almost scientific. But there¡¯s something else there, too, a possessive pride, like she¡¯s admiring her own handiwork. Which, in a twisted way, she probably is. I gasp sharply as she lightly touches my right index finger, sending a lightning bolt of pain shooting up my arm. The sensation is brutal, making my vision blur momentarily as tears spring to my eyes. My breath hitches audibly, a pathetic whimper escaping before I can trap it behind clenched teeth. Caterina¡¯s head snaps up, her crimson eyes widening with concern. Her lips part slightly, tongue darting out to wet them as she watches me struggle. ¡°Oh dear,¡± she purrs, her voice dropping to that velvety register that sends shivers down my spine. ¡°Looks like my lover needs pain meds again.¡± There¡¯s an unmistakable excitement in her words, a breathless quality that makes it clear how much she enjoys this dependency we¡¯ve established. Her eyes gleam with anticipation, pupils dilating slightly as she releases my hand and reaches for the crystal dish on the side table where her collection of pharmaceuticals waits like colorful candy. ¡°I think...¡± she mutters, fingers hovering over the assortment of pills, ¡°this one might help.¡± She selects a small blue oval, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger with practiced ease. My mouth waters instantly, a trained response I can no longer control. The sight of that little pill makes my heart race with anticipation, my body already preparing for the blessed relief it promises. Caterina looks at me like a priest offering salvation. ¡°What do we say?¡± ¡°Please,¡± I whisper, the sound desperate, needy, exactly how she wants me. Caterina¡¯s smile widens, revealing perfect white teeth. She leans closer as she brings the pill to her lips. The rite is so familiar now, so intimate. ¡°Open,¡± she commands softly, her crimson eyes locked on mine. I part my lips obediently, tongue slightly extended. She places the pill on her own tongue first, letting me see it there for a moment before closing the distance between us. The moment our lips touch a feeling of relief washes over my body. Her tongue slides against mine, transferring the pill with expert precision. The tart taste spreads across my taste buds, but I barely notice it anymore. What I notice instead is the warmth of her mouth, the way her hand cradles the back of my neck tenderly, the small sound of satisfaction she makes as I swallow. When she pulls back, her thumb traces my bottom lip softly, wiping away a drop of her spit. ¡°Good boy,¡± she praises, her voice thick with love. ¡°My perfect, beautiful boy. I feel myself drifting, the drugs pulling me under like a gentle tide. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Tired, baby?¡± she asks, though the answer is obvious from my heavy eyelids and sluggish movements. I nod, unable to stifle a massive yawn that stretches my jaw wide. My hands lie uselessly atop the covers Caterina smiles. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go to bed. We have a big day tomorrow.¡± She helps me under the sheets as my hands can¡¯t even do that. The cool silk slides against my skin like water, a small luxury I¡¯ve come to appreciate in this gilded cage. My head sinks into the pillow, and exhaustion crashes over me in an instant wave. ¡°What¡¯s tomorrow?¡± I mumble, my words slurring slightly at the edges. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes gleam in the darkness as she slides in beside me, her body radiating warmth. ¡°Mafia stuff,¡± she says simply, pulling me closer. I smile and say, ¡°Oh.¡± The vague answer is somehow perfect in my drug-addled state. ¡®It¡¯s like I¡¯m dating a sexy Jabba the Hutt.¡¯ She guides my head to her chest, my ear pressed against her heartbeat. The steady rhythm is hypnotic, lulling me further toward unconsciousness. ¡°Good night, Adam. I love you,¡± she whispers into the darkness, her voice carrying that possessive tenderness that¡¯s become my anchor. ¡°I love you too,¡± I sleepily reply, the words easily coming from my lips. ***** I wake with a start. My bladder feels like it¡¯s about to explode, a familiar pressure that usually has me nudging Caterina awake to help me with my morning ritual. But this time, I pause. She¡¯s lying there, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow like spun gold, her face soft in sleep. No predatory gleam in those crimson eyes, no calculating smile. Just Caterina, vulnerable and human. I glance down at my hands. They¡¯ve improved over the week, but they¡¯re still basically useless shovels at the ends of my arms. ¡®I can do this myself. I¡¯d hate to wake her.¡¯ I slide out of bed as quietly as possible, wincing as the mattress shifts. Caterina stirs slightly but doesn¡¯t wake. I stand there frozen, barely breathing until she settles again. The bathroom door is open, beckoning me with its promise of relief. I shuffle toward it, my bare feet silent against the plush carpet. The penthouse is eerily quiet this early, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a Boston still shrouded in pre-dawn darkness. I make it to the toilet and stare down at my pajama pants. This is where it gets tricky. I hook my hands into the waistband and push downward, using the heels of my palms rather than my useless fingers. The fabric slides reluctantly, bunching at my thighs. ¡®Good enough,¡¯ I think, positioning myself over the bowl. I try to angle myself without using my hands, which is harder than I expected. A triumphant feeling bubbles up in my chest as the stream finally starts, hitting the water with what sounds like a thunderous splash in the quiet bathroom. The relief is incredible, almost worth the complicated maneuver it took to get here. I close my eyes, savoring this tiny moment of independence, this one basic human function I¡¯ve managed without Caterina¡¯s help. ¡®She¡¯s going to be so happy she doesn¡¯t have to help me piss anymore.¡¯ ¡°What the fuck are you doing?¡± The bathroom feels suddenly smaller, the air crystallizing with tension. I turn my head, still mid-stream, to see Caterina standing in the doorway. Her silhouette is backlit by the bedroom light, making her look like some avenging angel. Her blonde hair falls in perfect waves around her shoulders, but her crimson eyes are narrowed to dangerous slits. ¡°Cat,¡± I smile, a nervous flutter in my chest. I feel weirdly proud as I continue, ¡°Look! I can pee on my own.¡± Her fury only heightens. Her nostrils flare, her perfect mouth twisting into a snarl. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees as she takes one deliberate step toward me, then another. The tile floor may as well be cracking beneath her bare feet. ¡°How could you?¡± she breathes, the softness of her voice more frightening than any scream. My stream falters, panic seizing my bladder mid-relief. ¡°What?¡± I stammer, genuinely confused by her reaction. ¡°I was just¡­¡± ¡°How fucking dare you, Adam,¡± she cuts me off, her voice rising with each word until it fills the bathroom, bouncing off the marble surfaces like physical blows. ¡°What is it? You want to be independent?¡± The accusation hits me like ice water. I shake my head frantically, pajama pants still bunched around my thighs, my manhood shrinking under her fury. ¡°No, no,¡± I plead, the words tumbling out in desperate succession. ¡°I just didn¡¯t want to wake you. I thought you¡¯d be happy.¡± She stalks closer, her silk nightgown whispering against her skin with each step. Her breathing comes in short, sharp bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the thin fabric. She looks unhinged. ¡°This feels like something a bad boy would do,¡± she says, her dropping low. The words ¡°bad boy¡± echo in my skull like a death knell. Memories flash before my eyes, the glint of metal, the sickening crunch of bones, the white-hot agony that followed. The hammer. My hands throb in phantom pain, the scars seeming to pulse with remembered trauma. ¡®Bad boys get the hammer.¡¯ My legs give out beneath me. I collapse to my knees on the cold tile floor. The tears come hot and fast, streaming down my face in rivulets that drip onto the cold bathroom floor. My shoulders shake with each heaving sob, the sound pathetic and raw, echoing off the marble surfaces. I can barely see through the blur of tears, but I can feel Caterina¡¯s presence looming over me like a storm cloud. ¡°Please, Caterina, please don¡¯t hurt me again,¡± I beg, my voice breaking with each word. The crying is ugly, snot running from my nose, spit gathering at the corners of my mouth, my face contorted in terror. ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to be independent. I just didn¡¯t want to wake you up. I swear on my life. I swear.¡± I¡¯m babbling now, desperate to convince her, to placate the fury I can feel radiating from her like heat from a furnace. My pajama pants are still bunched around my thighs, my shriveled penis flopping around. I¡¯ve never felt more afraid in my life. Caterina stares down at me, her crimson eyes burning with contempt. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to call me Cat,¡± she hisses, the correction dripping with venom. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Cat,¡± I sob harder, pressing my forehead to the floor in complete submission. ¡°Please forgive me. I¡¯ll never pee alone again. I want to be dependent on you. I need to be dependent on you.¡± The silence stretches between us, punctuated only by my ragged breathing and pathetic sniffles. I dare to glance up, my vision swimming with tears. Caterina¡¯s expression finally softens, the fury melting away to reveal something almost tender. A smile spreads across her perfect face, transforming her from avenging angel to benevolent goddess in the space of a heartbeat. ¡°There¡¯s my good boy,¡± she coos, crouching down beside me. Her fingers thread through my hair, gentle now, soothing. ¡°I was so worried you were trying to leave me.¡± I lean into her touch like a starving animal, relief washing over me in waves so powerful I feel dizzy with it. ¡°Never,¡± I whisper, the word a fervent prayer. ¡°I¡¯d never leave you, Cat.¡± She helps me up, pulling my pajama pants back into place. Her hands are gentle as she guides me to the sink, wetting a washcloth to clean my tear-stained face. The cool cloth feels heavenly against my hot skin, and I close my eyes as she tenderly wipes away the evidence of my breakdown. ¡°You understand why I was upset, don¡¯t you?¡± she asks, her voice soft but insistent. I nod, unable to meet her gaze. ¡°Yes, Cat. I should have woken you up. I¡¯m really so sorry.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Cat''s face when ¡°What the fuck are you doing?¡± Chapter 47: Thrown Away I wake up with another jolt, my heart slamming against my ribcage. The sheets beside me are cold and empty, the pillow unruffled as if no one slept there at all. Cat isn¡¯t here. My damaged hands twitch uselessly as I push myself up, squinting at the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Boston sprawls below, already alive with tiny cars and tinier people going about their normal lives. ¡°Cat?¡± I call out, my voice scratchy with sleep. No answer. This is wrong. Cat always wakes me up in the morning. It¡¯s part of our routine, as rigid and unchangeable as the sunrise. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, wincing as my stiff fingers brush against the silk sheets. The memory of last night¡¯s bathroom incident flashes through my mind, her fury, my pathetic sobbing, the terror that had me on the cold tile floor in complete submission. ¡°Cat?¡± I call again, louder this time. The silence that answers feels oppressive, almost physical. I look towards the pill dish and even that is empty. ¡°Please god, don¡¯t tell me she¡¯s the type of person that just gets tired of people.¡± I whisper to myself as fear starts to over take me. I stumble my way out of the bedroom, a strange nervousness building in my chest. The penthouse feels too large, too empty, without Caterina¡¯s commanding presence filling every corner. ¡°Cat?¡± I call again, my voice bouncing off the minimalist furniture and sleek surfaces. The living room is pristine and untouched, no coffee cup on the side table, no newspaper folded on the couch. The kitchen gleams with unused appliances, no evidence of breakfast being prepared. The silence is deafening. No note on the counter. Nothing. ¡®She hid my phone away after I met Connor. I really don¡¯t know what to do.¡¯ sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A sudden wave of nausea hits me like a freight train. I double over, clutching my stomach with my useless hands. Sweat breaks out across my forehead, clammy and cold against my skin. My mouth fills with saliva, and I swallow hard, fighting the urge to vomit on the expensive hardwood floor. ¡°What the fuck?¡± I gasp, straightening slowly as the wave passes, leaving behind a hollow, queasy feeling. I make my way to the bathroom, legs suddenly shaky beneath me. The mirror reflects a stranger, pale and haunted, dark circles forming under bloodshot eyes. My skin looks waxy, almost gray in the harsh bathroom lighting. ¡°Am I sick?¡± I ask the mirror in confusion. But even as I say it, I know that¡¯s not it. This feels different. My heart races in my chest, pounding so hard I can feel each beat in my temples. The bathroom suddenly feels too small, too confined. I need to move, to do something, anything to distract from this growing discomfort that seems to radiate from my very bones. I pace the penthouse, from bedroom to living room to kitchen and back again, a caged animal seeking escape. Each circuit seems to take longer, my legs growing heavier with each step. As the hours wear on, nausea comes and goes in waves, sometimes receding enough to let me breathe, sometimes crashing over me with such force that I have to stop and lean against the wall. My skin starts to crawl with invisible insects, a restless, itchy sensation that has me shifting from foot to foot. ¡°Where the fuck is she?¡± I mutter, anxiety spiking through me. *************************** [Maddy¡¯s POV] I lean back in my chair, watching the multiple screens that show every corner of the penthouse. The soft blue glow illuminates Caterina¡¯s face as she stares intently at the central monitor where Adam paces frantically. His movements have become increasingly erratic over the past three hours, his body betraying him as withdrawal takes hold. ¡°Look at him squirm,¡± Lara whistles, her wild red hair falling over one shoulder as she leans forward. ¡°Boss, all this because he tried to pee without you?¡± I glance at her, always uncomfortable with how much she enjoys others¡¯ suffering. The control room is cool and sterile, a stark contrast to the luxury of the penthouse above. Banks of monitors line the walls, security feeds from the casino mixing with the intimate surveillance of Adam¡¯s prison. Caterina doesn¡¯t take her eyes off the screen. Her crimson gaze is fixed on Adam as he doubles over, another wave of nausea hitting him. ¡°He needs to learn his actions have consequences,¡± she says, her voice calm and clinical. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I find no pleasure in watching Adam suffer. There¡¯s something deeply unsettling about seeing someone reduced to such a state, especially when I know exactly what Caterina has done to bring him there. ¡°How much longer are you planning to let this go on?¡± I ask, keeping my voice neutral. Caterina finally tears her gaze away from the monitor to look at me. Her expression is serene, almost angelic, as if she¡¯s witnessing something beautiful rather than a man in withdrawal. ¡°Until he truly understands,¡± she says simply. ¡°I want him to feel the emptiness of a world without me in it.¡± I watch as Adam collapses onto the couch, his body wracked with tremors. His damaged hands clutch uselessly at his stomach as he curls into himself, a whimper escaping his lips. The sound echoes through the speakers, filling our sterile monitoring room with his suffering. ¡°Jesus,¡± I mutter, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen. ¡°He¡¯s really going through it.¡± On the monitor, Adam¡¯s face contorts with pain. Sweat plasters his hair to his forehead, and even through the surveillance footage, I can see the sheen of moisture on his skin. He looks like he¡¯s dying. Lara frowns and says, ¡°I¡¯m not sure this is good for Adam, boss.¡± Caterina¡¯s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. She turns to Lara, her crimson eyes widening in disbelief. ¡°Are you serious right now?¡± she asks, her voice rising with incredulity. ¡°You¡¯re the one who literally sat in my office and told me, word for word, ¡®the fastest way to a man¡¯s heart is through drug addiction and then becoming the single supplier of that drug.¡¯¡± Lara shifts uncomfortably, scratching the back of her head. A flush of embarrassment creeps up her neck as she avoids Caterina¡¯s piercing stare. ¡°Yeah, but...¡± Lara mumbles, glancing at the screen where Adam is now curled into a fetal position, his body shaking uncontrollably. ¡°That¡¯s for, you know, bad guys. Cartel dudes. Bitchy men. The rude homeless ones.¡± She points at the monitor, her expression softening unexpectedly. ¡°Adam doesn¡¯t seem like a bad guy.¡± I can¡¯t hide my surprise at Lara¡¯s sudden display of conscience. This is the same woman who once suggested we feed a rival¡¯s fingers to their brother. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes slide to Lara. ¡°Oh? Are you suddenly interested in my lover, Lara?¡± she asks, her voice smooth as silk but sharp as a blade. Lara¡¯s eyes widen with panic, her entire body going rigid. She shakes her head so vigorously I¡¯m surprised it doesn¡¯t snap off her neck. ¡°Oh no, nu-uh, boss! I would never fuck with your property,¡± she sputters, hands raised defensively. ¡°I was just thinking out loud, boss,¡± Her nervous laughter fills the control room, high-pitched and strained. Sweat beads visibly on her forehead as she backpedals, trying to distance herself from any implication that she might care about Adam as a person rather than an asset. Caterina studies her for a long, excruciating moment before her face relaxes into amusement. She throws her head back and laughs, the sound echoing off the sterile walls of the monitoring room. The sudden shift in her mood is jarring, like watching a predator decide to play with its food rather than devour it. ¡°Relax, Lara,¡± she says, patting her lieutenant¡¯s arm with mock affection. ¡°If I thought you wanted to steal Adam from me, you¡¯d already be dead.¡± Her laser gaze shifts to me, pinning me to my chair with its intensity. I feel my stomach tighten instinctively. ¡°What about you, Maddy?¡± Caterina asks, her voice deceptively casual. ¡°How do you feel about my treatment of Adam?¡± The question hangs in the air between us like a loaded gun. On the monitor behind her, Adam is crying begging for Caterina to come back. The sight makes my chest ache in a way I hadn¡¯t expected. My heart sinks as I consider my options. I think about my younger brother. How devastated I¡¯d be if it were him curled up on that couch, shaking and abandoned, completely dependent on someone like Caterina. ¡°I think,¡± I begin carefully, choosing each word as if my life depends on it because it probably does, ¡°that your methods are extremely effective.¡± Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes narrow dangerously. ¡°You think this is wrong of me?¡± she asks, her voice dropping to that deadly quiet tone that usually precedes violence. I take a steadying breath. This is the moment where most people would backpedal, make excuses, or simply cower. ¡°Boss,¡± I say evenly, meeting her gaze, ¡°do you remember how you felt after you gave Adam that black eye?¡± Her fingers tighten around the armrest of her chair. ¡°Yes,¡± she replies, the single syllable clipped with annoyance. ¡°This is probably worse,¡± I say simply, gesturing toward the monitor where Adam is heaving with dry sobs. Caterina¡¯s attention shifts back to the screens. Adam¡¯s lips are moving, forming the same words over and over: ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Tears stream down his face. Something shifts in Caterina¡¯s expression. The cold calculation gives way to something I never see, doubt. ¡°Fuck,¡± she mutters, running a hand through her immaculate blonde hair. ¡°It seems I got lost in the game. Just like Mother did.¡± She sighs heavily, leaning back in her chair. Her crimson eyes never leave the monitor as Adam continues to writhe in agony. When she speaks again, her voice carries an unfamiliar weight. ¡°My father actually had it worse than Adam,¡± she says quietly, almost to herself. ¡°Mother said it¡¯s the only way to break a man in.¡± The casual revelation hangs in the air like smoke, poisonous and suffocating. I exchange a quick glance with Lara, whose usual bloodthirsty enthusiasm has been replaced by wide-eyed discomfort. Caterina gets up abruptly, her chair rolling back with the force of her movement. Her tall frame unfolds with predatory grace as she straightens her already perfect suit. ¡°Lara, have the chef prepare something light for his stomach. I¡¯ll go to him now,¡± she commands, her voice regaining its usual authority. As she strides toward the door, I catch a glimpse of her reflection in one of the darkened monitors. For just a moment, I see something strange in her eyes. Guilt. Chapter 48: George Bush I¡¯m rocking back and forth, the movement keeping the pain at bay for tiny fragments of seconds before it crashes back over me like a tidal wave. My skin feels like it¡¯s trying to crawl off my body. My joints ache with a deep, throbbing pain that makes me want to tear myself apart just to make it stop. Nausea hits me again, harder this time, my empty stomach heaving uselessly. I can¡¯t remember when I last ate. I can¡¯t remember anything except the pain, the desperate need for whatever relief Caterina has made my body crave. My useless hands shake uncontrollably, trembling against my sides like dying birds. I curl tighter into myself on the couch, my entire world reduced to this agony, this desperate need. The tears flow freely now, streaming down my face and soaking into the expensive leather beneath me. I don¡¯t care how pathetic I look. There¡¯s no one here to see my shame anyway. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I whisper to the empty room, my voice cracking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry.¡± The words become a mantra, meaningless syllables repeated over and over as if they could somehow summon her back. As if my apology could reach her wherever she is and convince her that I¡¯ve learned my lesson. That I¡¯ll never try to be independent again. That I¡¯ll happily remain her broken, dependent pet for the rest of my life if only she¡¯ll come back and make this pain stop. I hear the doors open, and my eyes go wide. ¡°Cat?¡± My voice is desperate. Caterina comes into the bedroom with a frown. Her white coat almost looks like a cape, billowing around her tall frame as she moves toward me. Her crimson eyes scan my pitiful state, taking in every detail of my suffering. ¡°Baby, look at you,¡± she says, her voice soft with genuine concern. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Cat, please don¡¯t leave me, please stay,¡± I beg, reaching for her with my useless hands. Every word feels torn from my throat, raw and desperate. She rushes to the couch and pulls me into her arms, cradling me against her chest like I¡¯m something precious and fragile. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Adam,¡± she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion I never expected to hear from her. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to be gone so long.¡± I cling to her, my useless hands tapping weakly at her coat as tears continue to stream down my face. Relief floods through me so intensely it¡¯s almost painful, my entire body shuddering against hers. ¡°I had an emergency I had to deal with today,¡± she says, stroking my sweat-dampened hair with gentle fingers. She doesn¡¯t elaborate. ¡°I should have left your medication,¡± she murmurs, pressing her lips to my forehead. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be gone this long.¡± Her hand moves to her pocket, pulling out a small pill box. The sight of it makes my heart race, anticipation cutting through the fog of pain. She gets it open, her crimson eyes never leaving my face as she pulls out a couple of pills, one white, one blue. ¡°Open up, baby,¡± she says softly, holding them out to me like an offering. I part my lips without hesitation, my tongue darting out eagerly. She skips the kiss instead, opting to place the pills on my tongue directly. Her fingers lingering against my lips for a moment. I swallow immediately, desperate for relief, not even waiting for water. ¡°There you go,¡± she soothes, pulling me closer. ¡°It¡¯ll be better soon. I promise.¡± I collapse against her, exhaustion overwhelming me now that help has arrived. My body feels like a puppet with cut strings, limp and useless in her embrace. She holds me tighter, rocking me gently as we wait for the medication to take effect. The pills begin to work their magic, spreading through my system like a warm wave, washing away the pain. My tremors gradually subside, the invisible insects crawling beneath my skin retreating with each passing minute. The relief is so intense it brings fresh tears to my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Adam,¡± Caterina whispers, her crimson eyes scanning my face with genuine concern. I nuzzle against her neck, seeking more of her warmth, her scent, everything about her that has become my anchor in this twisted reality. As my body starts to feel better, the veil of withdrawal lifting from my mind, I become aware of my physical state. My shirt clings to my skin, hair plastered to my forehead, the leather couch beneath us damp with my perspiration. ¡°Oh shit, I¡¯m sorry. I think I got my sweat all over your suit,¡± I say, noticing the dark patches where my body has pressed against her pristine white outfit. Caterina chuckles with a frown, her crimson eyes softening around the edges. ¡°Just stay with me for a minute,¡± she mutters, pulling me closer against her body, not caring about the dampness seeping into her expensive suit. ¡°I like your sweat.¡± I let myself sink deeper into her embrace, my newly recovered hands resting limply against her. The drugs have started working their magic, turning the sharp edges of my world soft and blurry. My heartbeat slows to match the steady rhythm of hers, a synchronicity that feels like the most natural thing in the world. The penthouse windows frame the Boston skyline, city lights blurring into constellations as my vision softens around the edges. ¡°You¡¯re safe now,¡± Caterina whispers, her voice vibrating through her chest and into mine, where we¡¯re pressed together. Her fingers trace lazy patterns across my back, each touch sending ripples of comfort through my weary body. My eyelids grow heavy, weighted with exhaustion and medicinal peace. I fight to keep them open, irrationally afraid that if I close them, she might disappear again. But it¡¯s a losing battle. ¡°I was so scared,¡± I murmur, my words slurring slightly as the medication deepens its hold. ¡°Thought you weren¡¯t coming back.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll never leave you, Adam.¡± I mumble something that almost resembles words into her chest. ¡°Shh now, baby,¡± she whispers, pressing her lips to my forehead. ¡°Fall asleep.¡± I surrender completely, letting myself drift away in her arms. Peace settles over me. ***** I awaken slowly, my consciousness forming like a spirit bomb. The room comes into focus slowly, details emerging from the blur, the familiar white ceiling of our bedroom, the soft whisper of air conditioning, the distant hum of Boston traffic far below. Something¡¯s different. There¡¯s a strange tugging sensation at my arm, a cold intrusion that doesn¡¯t belong. I glance down and see it, an IV line snaking from my inner elbow to a clear bag hanging beside the bed. The liquid drips steadily, hypnotically, feeding something directly into my veins. Panic flutters in my chest like a trapped bird. The last thing I remember is falling asleep in Caterina¡¯s arms after my withdrawal episode. How long have I been out? Why am I hooked up to medical equipment? A movement catches my eye, Caterina, sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed. ¡°Am I okay?¡± My voice comes out scratchy and thin, barely recognizable as my own. Cat¡¯s eyes snap to mine, relief washing over her features before her composure returns. Her lips curve into that possessive smile I¡¯m slowly starting to find endearing. ¡°My darling boy is finally awake,¡± she says, leaning forward to stroke my cheek with cool fingers. ¡°I was beginning to think you might sleep forever. Don¡¯t worry about the IV. I¡¯m just ensuring your body... Is up to snuff. Can¡¯t have you suffering unnecessarily, can we?¡± S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I stare at the IV line, following its clear tube from the bag to where it disappears into my arm. The sensation feels familiar now, almost comforting in its clinical precision. I can almost feel the drugs racing through my system, warm and soothing, smoothing away all my rough edges. A sudden realization hits me, as shocking as if I was reading to a bunch of elementary school students and found out the world trade center was hit by not one, but two planes. ¡°Cat,¡± I blurt out, my eyes widening with genuine shock, ¡°I think I¡¯m addicted to those drugs.¡± Caterina¡¯s perfectly shaped eyebrows rise slightly, her crimson eyes registering confusion. She tilts her head, studying me as if I¡¯ve just told her water is wet. ¡°Yeah, of course you are,¡± she says slowly, as if explaining something to a child. ¡°Adam, did you not know you were addicted?¡± I blink at her, my mouth dropping open. ¡°No, I thought they were just regular pain pills that made me zone out or get goofy.¡± My mind races back through the foggy memories, trying to pinpoint when casual medication became something more sinister. How could I have missed something so obvious? The way I craved them. The way she fed them to me. The way I wanted her lips on mine. The way her tongue feels like home. ¡®Am I addicted to Caterina too?¡¯ Caterina leans closer, her voice softening. ¡°Yeah... some of them are.¡± She reaches out, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with her words. Her crimson eyes hold mine, filled with that unique mixture of possession and genuine affection that only Caterina can master. There¡¯s no remorse there, no guilt, only a calm acceptance of what she¡¯s done. ¡°Adam,¡± she says, her voice dropping to that intimate register that makes my skin tingle, ¡°I want you to be addicted to those drugs.¡± The admission hangs between us, honest and unapologetic. I should be horrified. I should be furious. Instead, I feel a strange clarity washing over me, like finally seeing the complete picture of a puzzle I¡¯ve been working on for months. ¡°Ohhhhhh,¡± I breathe out, the sound stretching between us as understanding dawns. ¡°So you can control me.¡± ¡°No,¡± Caterina says matter-of-factly. ¡°So you can never leave me. I didn¡¯t just get you addicted to the drugs, Adam. You¡¯re addicted to me.¡± She leans in and kisses me, her lips soft but demanding against mine. And she¡¯s right. It feels good. It feels even better than the drugs. My broken hands twitch uselessly at my sides, wanting to grab her, pull her closer, but they can barely move. ¡®I was right!¡¯ When she pulls backI stare at her panting. Her crimson eyes gleam with satisfaction. ¡°Look at you,¡± she purrs, ¡°all needy, wanting more.¡± I stare at Caterina for a long moment, studying the sharp angles of her face, the crimson eyes that miss nothing, the slight curl of satisfaction at the corners of her perfect lips. She¡¯s just admitted to something so vile, yet I don¡¯t feel any anger. There¡¯s a strange beauty in her honesty, a terrifying clarity. ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid telling me this will make me reject you?¡± I ask, my voice steadier than I expected. Caterina laughs, the sound both musical and mocking. Her head tilts back slightly, exposing the elegant line of her throat as amusement dances across her features. ¡°The damage is done, Adam,¡± she says, leaning in close enough that I can feel her breath against my face. ¡°You¡¯re already mine.¡± I search my feelings, expecting outrage, betrayal, the hot burn of anger. But there¡¯s nothing except a strange, floating sensation of acceptance. My mind feels crystal clear despite the drugs flowing through my veins. I don¡¯t even feel annoyed. I feel surprisingly calm. ¡°What now?¡± I ask. Caterina studies me for a moment, her crimson eyes searching mine for any hint of resistance or rebellion. Finding none, her lips curve into a smile. ¡°Are you hungry?¡± she asks. ¡°I could eat.¡± Chapter 49: Step Sis… I’m Stuck The late autumn air nips at my cheeks. It¡¯s my first time outside in what feels like forever. The sun feels different on my skin, warmer somehow, more precious now that I understand how easily it can be taken away. ¡°You are smiling so wide right now,¡± Caterina observes, her crimson eyes studying my face with that mixture of possession and genuine delight. ¡°I¡¯m just happy to be outside with you,¡± I say, the truth slipping out before I can filter it. ¡°It¡¯s been a while.¡± My hands hang awkwardly between us, our fingers loosely intertwined. I can¡¯t actually grip her hand with my damaged fingers, but she holds mine carefully, her thumb occasionally brushing over my scarred knuckles. It¡¯s a gentle reminder of both her cruelty and her care. Boston bustles around us, people rushing past on their way to important meetings or casual coffee dates. Women in suits, their confident strides carrying them past us without a second glance. Men are fewer, their colorful clothing and carefully styled hair standing out against the sea of professional females. ¡°Where are we going?¡± I ask, glancing up at Caterina¡¯s perfect profile. ¡°We¡¯re going to Knife & Bone,¡± Caterina says, her crimson eyes lighting up with that predatory excitement I¡¯ve come to recognize whenever she¡¯s about to introduce me to something new. ¡°It¡¯s that steakhouse that just opened up down the street. The owner¡¯s a friend of mine.¡± She tugs me closer, her mouth curving into that possessive smile that sends shivers down my spine. ¡°I want to get some protein into you. I feel like you haven¡¯t been getting enough protein lately.¡± I chuckle, the sound coming easily now. ¡°Uh, okay.¡± The drugs make everything pleasantly soft around the edges but not enough to dull the simple joy of walking outside with her, feeling the crisp air against my skin after weeks of luxury confinement. I¡¯m just starting to appreciate the normalcy of the moment when¡­ ¡°Adam!¡± The voice slices through the ambient city noise like a knife. I freeze mid-step, my damaged hands twitching in Caterina¡¯s grip. I know that voice. It¡¯s been so long, but I¡¯d recognize it anywhere. ¡°Adam, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± I turn slowly, dread pooling in my stomach like ice water. And there she is, striding toward us with that driven walk I¡¯ve known my entire life. Jessica. My sister. Her green eyes are blazing with fury. ¡°What the fuck, Adam?¡± Jessica snaps as she reaches us, not even acknowledging Caterina¡¯s presence. ¡°You¡¯ve been dodging my calls for over two months!¡± I swallow hard, suddenly aware of how I must look to her. Thinner, paler, my hands visibly damaged. The expensive clothes Caterina dresses me in can¡¯t hide how fundamentally changed I am. ¡°Jessica,¡± I manage, the name feeling strange on my tongue. ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®Jessica¡¯ me,¡± she cuts me off, her eyes finally flicking to Caterina before returning to me. ¡°I¡¯ve been worried sick. I tried to file a police report¡­¡± Jessica¡¯s angry tirade suddenly cuts off mid-sentence as her gaze shifts Caterina. The realization dawns across her face, her eyes widening with shock as she takes in our intimate posture. ¡°Holy shit,¡± she breathes, her professional demeanor cracking. ¡°Caterina De Luca?¡± The name falls from her lips with a mixture of recognition and disbelief. Jessica takes an involuntary step backward, her composure momentarily shattered as she processes who exactly is holding her brother¡¯s mangled hands. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes gleam with satisfaction at Jessica¡¯s reaction. She tightens her grip on my fingers possessively, her thumb stroking across my scarred knuckles with deliberate tenderness. ¡°We met at the hospital, remember?¡± Caterina reminds Jessica, her voice carrying that dangerous velvet quality. ¡°After Adam¡¯s... assault.¡± She pauses meaningfully on that last word, her crimson eyes never leaving Jessica¡¯s face. Jessica¡¯s brow furrows as she processes this information, her mind clearly trying to fit these pieces together. ¡°Yeah, I remember meeting you,¡± Jessica says slowly, her eyes darting between us with growing confusion. ¡°You¡¯re Claire¡¯s boss.¡± I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, trying to reconcile the woman she briefly met in the hospital with the notorious figure now holding her brother¡¯s hand on a Boston sidewalk. Caterina¡¯s lips curve into a prideful smile. ¡°Yes, well, since then, Adam and I have become lov¡­¡± Jessica doesn¡¯t let her finish. Her gaze drops to my hands, really seeing them for the first time. The scarred, slightly warped fingers. The surgical marks. The permanent damage. ¡°Adam, what happened to you?¡± she gasps, snatching my wrists and pulling them closer for inspection. The movement is too quick, too rough, and I wince as pain shoots up my arms. Jessica looks worried about me, her professional facade crumbling completely as she stares at my damaged hands. For a moment, I see the little girl who used to bandage my scraped knees when we were kids. ¡°Ohh uhh,¡± I stammer, my brain scrambling for an explanation that won¡¯t reveal the hammer, the breaking, the months of captivity disguised as love. ¡°Actually,¡± Caterina interjects smoothly, her voice slipping between us like silk over steel. ¡°Adam had a terrible rock climbing accident some time ago.¡± She gently pulls my hands from Jessica¡¯s grip, her touch possessive yet warm. Her crimson eyes soften with practiced concern as she looks at me, the performance so convincing I almost believe it myself. ¡°It was at that new indoor climbing facility in Cambridge,¡± she continues, her thumb tracing the surgical scars on my knuckles. ¡°Adam was showing off, weren¡¯t you, baby? Trying to free-climb without proper safety equipment.¡± I nod dumbly, grateful for the ready-made explanation. ¡°Yeah, I... I fell pretty bad.¡± ¡°Forty feet,¡± Caterina adds with a dramatic sigh, her free hand moving to stroke my cheek. ¡°I nearly had a heart attack I saw him fall. He shattered both hands trying to break his fall.¡± Jessica¡¯s eyes narrow skeptically, darting between my face and Caterina¡¯s. ¡°Rock climbing?¡± she repeats flatly. ¡°Adam, you¡¯re afraid of heights. You won¡¯t even go on the Ferris wheel at the Topsfield fair.¡± I feel sweat beading on my forehead despite the cool autumn air. ¡°Well, I... I was trying something new,¡± I stammer, the lie tasting sour on my tongue. ¡°He was trying to impress me,¡± Caterina says with a fond laugh, her fingers tightening slightly around mine. ¡°We¡¯d only been dating a few weeks, and he wanted to show me how athletic he was.¡± Jessica stares at us, skepticism written all over her face. She crosses her arms, her tailored suit jacket pulling slightly at the shoulders. ¡°So you two are... together?¡± she asks, eyeing Caterina with undisguised suspicion. ¡°Yes,¡± Caterina purrs, sliding her arm around my waist with practiced possessiveness. ¡°Since we met at the hospital.¡± Jessica¡¯s eyebrows shoot up. ¡°Jesus Christ!¡± She exclaims. Jessica turns to me, her green eyes flashing with hurt. ¡°And you couldn¡¯t return a single one of my calls?¡± I shuffle awkwardly, my damaged hands twitching at my sides. ¡°I¡¯ve been... recovering.¡± ¡°For two months? Without a single text?¡± Jessica¡¯s voice rises, drawing glances from passersby. ¡°Adam, I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Jess,¡± I mumble, guilt washing over me. ¡°I should have called.¡± Jessica¡¯s gaze shifts between us, her analytical mind clearly working overtime. Her eyes narrow as she focuses on Caterina. ¡°Wait a minute,¡± she says slowly. ¡°What the fuck happened to Claire?¡± Jessica asks bluntly. ¡°I know most men don¡¯t stick with just one woman but you told me you were a one woman kinda man.¡± Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes gleam dangerously in the autumn sunlight. The temperature around us seems to drop several degrees despite the pleasant weather. Her arm tightens around my waist, fingers digging into my side with just enough pressure to remind me who I belong to now. ¡°Claire and Adam are in the middle of divorce proceedings,¡± she says smoothly, her voice carrying a threat. ¡°It was all very amicable. Claire is an addict, after all. She¡¯s actually due to finish rehab any day.¡± Jessica¡¯s face falls, genuine hurt replacing the anger in her eyes. She reaches out hesitantly, almost touching my arm before pulling back as if afraid I might break. ¡°I knew she had problems, Adam, but you could have come to me,¡± she says, her voice softening. ¡°I know you don¡¯t get along with my wife that well, but still, you¡¯re always welcome in my home.¡± ¡®Jessica has a wife? I guess that tracks.¡¯ I feel a sharp tug on my arm as Caterina shifts her stance, her patience clearly running thin. Her crimson eyes flash with annoyance as Jessica continues to look at me as if Caterina isn¡¯t standing right there, holding onto me like a prized possession. ¡°Excuse me,¡± Caterina cuts in, her voice dripping with forced politeness. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to interrupt this touching sibling reunion, but Adam and I have reservations.¡± Jessica blinks, clearly taken aback by Caterina¡¯s abrupt tone. She looks between us, her eyes narrowing as she takes in how Caterina¡¯s arm is wrapped possessively around my waist, how my body seems to naturally lean into hers despite the tension. ¡°Of course,¡± Jessica says slowly, her mind visibly processing every detail of our interaction. ¡°But I¡¯d like to speak with my brother alone for a moment if you don¡¯t mind.¡± Caterina¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°Actually, I do mind.¡± The words hang in the air between us, the casual ownership in her tone unmistakable. I feel Jessica¡¯s eyes on me, waiting for me to stand up for myself, to insist on a private conversation with my own sister. But I stay silent, my damaged hands twitching uselessly at my sides. ¡®I¡¯m in good boy mode right now.¡¯ ¡°Adam and I have fallen in love in the brief time we¡¯ve spent together,¡± Caterina announces, her voice softening as she glances at me with practiced adoration. ¡°I¡¯ve been helping him move on from Claire¡¯s betrayal. The gambling, the debt, the lies, it was destroying him.¡± Jessica¡¯s eyebrows shoot up. ¡°Debt? She owed more than just me?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Caterina says with false surprise, ¡°I assumed you knew. Claire gambled away their savings, their house equity, everything. Adam was drowning when I found him.¡± S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The half-truth slides so smoothly from her lips that even I almost believe it. Jessica¡¯s face pales as she processes this information, her protective instincts clearly kicking into overdrive. ¡®Wait, did Claire lose the house on top of selling me. What a fucking loser.¡¯ ¡°Adam, why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± she asks, hurt evident in her voice. I open my mouth to respond, but Caterina speaks first. ¡°He was embarrassed,¡± she says, her hand moving to stroke my cheek in a gesture that feels both tender and controlling. ¡°Men often are when they¡¯ve been taken advantage of. I¡¯ve been helping him rebuild his confidence, haven¡¯t I, baby?¡± I nod mutely, feeling Jessica¡¯s eyes boring into me, searching for the brother she knew before all this began. Jessica¡¯s eyes narrow, her professional demeanor giving way to the protective older sister I¡¯ve known my entire life. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but this looks ridiculous. You¡¯ve known my brother for what, two months? And suddenly, you¡¯re just coming in and replacing his wife?¡± Caterina¡¯s fingers tighten around my waist, her nails digging into my side through the expensive fabric of my shirt. ¡°Adam is perfectly capable of making his own decisions,¡± Caterina replies, her voice honey-sweet with an undercurrent of steel. Jessica snorts, gesturing toward my damaged hands. ¡°Is he? Because from where I¡¯m standing, it looks like he can barely function without assistance.¡± The air between Caterina and Jessica crackles with tension. I can see Jessica¡¯s brain working overtime, analyzing every detail of this bizarre situation. Her eyes flicker between my damaged hands, Caterina¡¯s possessive grip, and my unnaturally calm expression. She¡¯s connecting dots I desperately need her to leave unconnected. My stomach twists with sudden, visceral fear, not for myself, but for Jessica. I remember Candice¡¯s dead face, the way she hit the ground. ¡®Please, god, no. Please spare Jessica. She¡¯s the only family I have left.¡¯ ¡°Jess,¡± I interject quickly, my voice steadier than I expected. ¡°I¡¯m really happy with Caterina. She¡¯s been with me through some really hard times.¡± Jessica¡¯s eyes widen slightly at my interruption. I can see the surprise on her face, probably because I¡¯m not arguing with her, not asking for her help, not showing any of the signs she¡¯s looking for. ¡°She helped me through the surgery,¡± I continue, each word technically true while hiding the horrific reality behind them. ¡°She¡¯s been there for me. She even feeds me every meal¡­ Among other things.¡± I lean into Caterina¡¯s side, feeling her arm tighten around me in approval. The small gesture sends a wave of relief through my system, good boy behavior rewarded with her silent praise. ¡°I really do love her,¡± I say, the words falling from my lips with disturbing ease. Jessica stares at me like I¡¯ve grown a second head. ¡°Is it alright if we talk about this later?¡± I ask, deliberately softening my voice. ¡°I¡¯m just kinda hungry right now.¡± Jessica¡¯s eyes narrow at the obvious deflection, but before she can argue, Caterina smoothly intervenes. ¡°We¡¯d be happy to schedule something,¡± she says, her voice dripping with false warmth. ¡°Perhaps dinner at our penthouse sometime soon? You could bring your wife.¡± ¡®I¡¯ll die before I let Jessica get involved with us.¡¯ I watch Jessica wrestling with her instincts. She knows something is wrong but can¡¯t quite put her finger on what. I can see the conflict raging behind her eyes, push now and risk alienating me, or retreat and gather more information? ¡°Fine,¡± Jessica finally says, her voice tight with restraint. ¡°But I¡¯m not letting this go, Adam. Something isn¡¯t right here.¡± Caterina¡¯s hand slides possessively over mine as they interlink together. ¡°It was lovely seeing you again, Jessica.¡± Caterina¡¯s words sharp as knives. ¡°Likewise.¡± Jessica: Chapter 50: Say Aahh The Knife & Bone seems entirely too nice for someone like me. The chandelier above us sprinkles diamonds of light across the dining area. Classical music plays softly in the background, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in a thousand-dollar suit. All around us, powerful women in tailored business attire conduct meetings over wine and steaks that cost as much as a car payment. Caterina sits across from me, resplendent in her white suit that emphasizes her statuesque frame. Her crimson eyes gleam as she carefully cuts my steak into bite-sized pieces, her movements precise and loving. My useless hands rest on the table, the scars and surgical marks visible despite the dim lighting. ¡°Open up,¡± she says, lifting a perfectly cut piece of meat to my lips. I obediently part my lips, accepting the offering. The steak practically melts on my tongue, rich and perfectly cooked. I make an appreciative noise that seems to please her. ¡°Good, right?¡± she asks, her perfect teeth flashing white as she smiles. ¡°Yes,¡± I reply, watching as she takes a bite of her own steak, chewing thoughtfully. Her eyes never leave my face, studying me with that predatory intensity I¡¯ve grown accustomed to. Her head tilts slightly, her brow furrowing as she notices something in my expression. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asks, placing her knife and fork down with deliberate care. ¡°You seem off.¡± My stomach tightens with anxiety. Jessica¡¯s face flashes in my mind, her suspicious green eyes, the way she looked at my hands with horror and pity. The conversation on the sidewalk plays on repeat in my head, each word, each glance between them, loaded with potential danger. ¡®If I tell her I¡¯m worried she¡¯ll hurt Jessica, that might make it happen.¡¯ ¡°Nothing,¡± I lie, forcing a smile that feels plastic on my face. ¡°Just tired, I guess.¡± Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes narrow slightly. She reaches across the table, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw with possessive tenderness. ¡°Adam,¡± she says, her voice dropping to that intimate register that makes my skin tingle, ¡°you know you can¡¯t lie to me.¡± I feel hot tears welling up in my eyes, blurring the elegant restaurant around me. The thought pounds in my head like a heartbeat. It might be worth taking the hammer again if it keeps Jessica safe. My damaged hands throb with phantom pain at the mere thought, but I¡¯d endure it for my sister. I say nothing, the words caught in my throat like fish bones. Caterina sighs, clearly annoyed by my silence, as she spears another piece of steak with her fork. Despite her irritation, her movements remain gentle as she brings the meat to my lips. The tenderness of her actions contrasts so sharply with the danger in her eyes that it makes my head spin. ¡°You¡¯re afraid I¡¯ll hurt your sister, right?¡± she asks. I swallow hard, the perfectly cooked steak suddenly tasteless. ¡°Yes,¡± I whisper, the confession hanging between us like a death sentence. She leans in closer, her crimson eyes capturing mine with hypnotic intensity. The scent of her expensive perfume wraps around me, both comforting and suffocating. ¡°And what? You thought lying to me would keep her safe?¡± Her words slice through me like the steak knife in her hand. ¡°Cat, please,¡± I blurt out, tears spilling down my cheeks before I can stop them. My voice cracks with desperation. ¡°I know Jessica¡¯s pushy, and I¡¯m sure you found her annoying, but please just let her be. I¡¯ll do anything. I¡¯ll figure out how to keep her away, I swear. Just don¡¯t hurt her.¡± The words tumble out in a messy rush, my damaged hands trembling on the table between us. The elegant restaurant fades around me, the murmur of conversation and clink of silverware becoming white noise as I focus entirely on Caterina¡¯s face, searching for any sign of mercy. Caterina¡¯s expression softens unexpectedly. She reaches across the table and gently wipes a tear from my cheek with her thumb. ¡°Adam, stop crying,¡± she says, her voice surprisingly gentle. ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt your sister.¡± She takes a sip of her wine, crimson eyes never leaving mine. ¡°She¡¯s not trying to fuck you, and she doesn¡¯t have the resources to ¡®save¡¯ you,¡± she adds, making air quotes around the word ¡°save,¡± her tone mockingly light. Relief washes over me like a wave so powerful it makes me dizzy. My shoulders sag as the tension drains from my body, leaving me feeling hollow and exhausted. I exhale a shaky breath I didn¡¯t realize I was holding. ¡°Thank you,¡± I whisper. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes gleam with something between amusement and danger. ¡°I will, however, add her to the list of people I¡¯ll hurt if you ever try to run away from me again,¡± she says casually, as if discussing favorite Lego sets rather than threatening my only sibling. My stomach twists with anxiety, but strangely, I feel a bizarre sense of reassurance. This feels like a compromise. Jessica stays safe as long as I stay with Caterina. The boundaries are clear, the rules established. There¡¯s comfort in knowing exactly where I stand, even if that place is terrifying. ¡°I can work with that,¡± I say optimistically. Caterina¡¯s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise before her face breaks into a delighted laugh. The sound rings through the restaurant, turning heads at nearby tables. ¡°Well, well,¡± she purrs, cutting another piece of steak. ¡°You seem to be warming up to your new life.¡± Something shifts inside me, a strange, twisted acceptance of my situation. I push my chair closer to hers, using just my legs since my hands are still practically useless. The scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor is jarring in the elegant restaurant, but I don¡¯t care. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes sparkle with amusement as she notices my awkward repositioning. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she purrs, her voice like warm honey. ¡°Did you want to be closer to your mistress?¡± I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but something has changed in me. Instead of shrinking away, I meet her gaze with newfound boldness. ¡°That¡¯s what you want, right?¡± I say, my voice steadier than expected. ¡°I want to be closer to you, and you want me to want that. So if I feel like I should be closer but normally wouldn¡¯t because I¡¯d be nervous I¡¯m annoying you... I should get over that insecurity and just get all up in your business, right?¡± My rambling question hangs in the air between us, probably the longest string of words I¡¯ve put together in weeks. Caterina stares at me for a long moment, her expression cycling from surprise to amusement to something deeper. She looks almost... exhausted by my overthinking yet charmed by it at the same time. With a fluid motion that reminds me of a lioness, she leans forward and pulls me even closer, her strong hand cupping the back of my neck. ¡°Adam,¡± she whispers, her breath warm against my ear, ¡°I want you so close to me I could wear you.¡± An evil smile spreads across her perfect face, her crimson eyes glittering with possessive delight. The words should frighten me, but instead, they make me feel wanted. Appreciated. Loved. Pure bliss washes over me as she leans in and kisses me, her lips claiming mine with reverent precision. The entire restaurant loses focus. There is nothing but Caterina and I. When she finally pulls away, I feel dizzy, intoxicated by her presence more than any drug she¡¯s ever given me. Caterina¡¯s gaze locks with mine, her crimson eyes soft yet somehow demanding. ¡°What do we say after our mistress graces us with a kiss?¡± ¡°Thank you, Cat,¡± I whisper, the words floating from my lips with genuine gratitude. ¡°Speaking of family,¡± I say, the question bubbling up to my throat, ¡°what¡¯s yours like? I mean, I know your cousin is a race car driver, but what about your parents?¡± Caterina sets down her wine glass, her expression shifting to something unreadable. ¡°Well,¡± she says with startling nonchalance, ¡°once my father died of cancer, my mother was fucking useless, so I killed her and took over the family.¡± The fork she¡¯s holding hovers midway to my mouth, the perfectly cut piece of meat suspended in the air between us. I stare at her, certain I¡¯ve misheard. ¡°You... what?¡± I manage to stammer. Caterina sighs impatiently and brings the fork to my lips. ¡°Open,¡± she commands softly. I obey automatically, accepting the morsel of food while my brain struggles to process what she¡¯s just said. The steak is tender, melting on my tongue, but I barely taste it. ¡°You committed matricide?¡± I finally whisper, the words feeling woefully inadequate. Caterina shrugs, taking another sip of her wine. ¡°It¡¯s not special,¡± she says matter-of-factly. ¡°She killed her mother, and so on. It¡¯s practically a family tradition.¡± ¡°Were you... were you close with your dad?¡± I ask, desperate to find some normalcy in this disturbing family history. A shadow passes over Caterina¡¯s perfect features, a flicker of something that might be genuine emotion before her mask slips back into place. ¡°Not really,¡± she admits, absently twirling her wine glass by the stem. ¡°Mother kept him locked away most of the time. I only saw him when she allowed it.¡± I gulp audibly, my throat suddenly dry. The parallels between her father¡¯s imprisonment and my own situation aren¡¯t lost on me. Is this what she knows? Is this her understanding of love? Caterina watches my reaction with those piercing crimson eyes, reading every microexpression that crosses my face. Her lips curve into a cheeky smile. ¡°Do you want kids, Adam?¡± she asks abruptly, her voice soft but intense. I choke on my own spit, sputtering and coughing as panic floods my system. My damaged hands twitch uselessly against the tablecloth, unable to even grab a napkin to wipe my face. The thought of children, tiny, vulnerable beings completely dependent on us, sends ice through my veins. How could I possibly keep them safe? What kind of life would they have with Caterina as their mother? Would they become pawns in her twisted games, or worse, would they become like her? Images flash through my mind. A little girl with Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes wielding a tiny hammer, a boy with my features trapped in casts, learning that pain is love. ¡°No,¡± I gasp once I¡¯ve recovered from my coughing fit. ¡°I¡¯ve never really wanted kids.¡± The lie comes easily, settling between us like a shield. I did want children once. Before hammers and addiction and loving my captor became my reality. Before I understood what monsters could look like. Caterina studies me for a moment. Then, her perfect lips curve into a satisfied smile. ¡°Good,¡± she says, reaching across to wipe a drop of water from my chin with her napkin. ¡°No way I¡¯m letting some entitled brat kill me.¡± ¡°Your life sounds exhausting, Cat,¡± I say with a sigh. ¡°Yeah, it really can be.¡± Chapter 51: You Are the Dancing Quean [Claire¡¯s POV] I fondle my two-month sobriety chip in my pocket as I walk into the office. The familiar weight of it grounds me, a constant reminder of just how fragile my recovery is. Over sixty days without a bet. Today is my first day back at work at La Reale Casino. I slip into my cubicle in the accounting section, trying to be as invisible as possible. The office looks exactly the same, sterile gray dividers, the gentle hum of computers, women in crisp suits moving purposefully between departments. It¡¯s been two months since I¡¯ve been here, but it seems like nothing has changed. Well, almost nothing. I boot up my computer, typing in my old password out of habit. To my surprise, it still works. The system loads, revealing spreadsheets and financial reports waiting to be processed. As a bookkeeper, my job is to make sure all the numbers add up, to track the flow of money through the casino¡¯s legitimate operations. At least, that¡¯s what it says in my job description. What it doesn¡¯t mention is that I¡¯m also supposed to ignore certain discrepancies, to look the other way when money appears or disappears without explanation. It¡¯s all part of working for a business owned by Caterina De Luca. Caterina. Just thinking her name makes my stomach twist into knots. ¡°Well, look who¡¯s back from vacation.¡± I spin around, anxiety replacing the momentary calm of routine. Lara Rosso leans against my cubicle wall, her wild red hair framing her face like flames. Her blue eyes glitter with barely contained mania, her perfect suit a stark contrast to the chaos I know lurks beneath. ¡°Rehab,¡± I correct automatically, my voice smaller than I¡¯d like. ¡°Not vacation.¡± ¡°Same difference.¡± Lara shrugs, examining her short, practical nails. ¡°Both involve lying around all day while other people do the real work.¡± I turn back to my computer, trying to focus on the screen rather than the predator hovering at my back. My hands tremble slightly as I navigate through the familiar software. She circles around, perching on the edge of my desk. Too close. Always too close. Her presence fills the small space of my cubicle like toxic gas. ¡°To think you didn¡¯t kill yourself after all?¡± she asks with mock disappointment. ¡°Shame. I had twenty bucks riding on it.¡± The casual cruelty lands like a physical blow. Two months ago, I might have broken down or walked right down to the game floor. Now, I just feel tired. ¡°Can you just leave me alone?¡± I ask, not looking up from my screen. Lara chuckles, the sound like broken glass in my ears. ¡°Yeah, sure thing,¡± she says, standing up with exaggerated compliance. ¡°Oh, look at that, boss is walking in with her boy toy.¡± My head snaps up before I can stop myself. I see them, Caterina De Luca in all her towering glory, her white suit pristine against her golden hair. And beside her, Adam. My Adam. Except he¡¯s not mine anymore. He¡¯s hers. I stare at his hands as they walk past, and the sight makes my stomach lurch. Even from this distance, I can see how wrong they look, twisted, scarred, the fingers curled at almost unnatural angles. I gasp involuntarily, the sound escaping before I can trap it behind my teeth. ¡°That¡¯s on you,¡± Lara whispers, her mouth suddenly at my ear. ¡°Never forget that.¡± The words sink into me like poison darts. She¡¯s right. This is my fault. I sold him to pay off my gambling debts. I thought Caterina just wanted him for... I don¡¯t know what I thought. Not this. Never this. Adam¡¯s eyes drift across the office, scanning the rows of cubicles with casual disinterest until they land on me. For a split second, our gazes lock, and I see a flash of recognition light up his face. His eyes widen, lips parting slightly in surprise. Then, just as quickly, panic floods his features. His head snaps down so violently I¡¯m surprised he doesn¡¯t hurt his neck, his shoulders hunching as if trying to make himself smaller. The reaction is so visceral, so immediate, that it feels like he thinks just looking at me will get him into some trouble. Caterina notices the exchange instantly. Her crimson eyes follow Adam¡¯s line of sight until they find me, and the transformation in her expression makes my blood freeze. Her lips curl into a slow, deliberate smile that contains no warmth, only promise. A predator acknowledging prey. She slides her arm around Adam¡¯s waist, her fingers digging visibly into his side as she guides him past my cubicle toward her private office. The message couldn¡¯t be clearer if she¡¯d shouted it through a megaphone. He belongs to her now. ¡°Well, that was awkward,¡± Lara whispers, delight dripping from every syllable. I can¡¯t respond. My throat has closed up, my entire body rigid with fear and grief. Lara finally slinks away, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter at my misery. I turn back to my computer, trying to focus on the numbers swimming before my eyes, but all I can see is Adam¡¯s damaged hands. My fingers drift to my pocket, touching the sobriety chip again. Two months clean. Two months of group therapy, of facing my demons, of learning to take responsibility for my actions. And here I am, right back where I started, only now with the full weight of what I¡¯ve done crushing down on me. I think about the conversation I had the day after getting out of rehab. The strange number I called. Luna Cruz. The name alone makes my hands shake as I think about our conversation. I¡¯m not stupid. I know who she is. Everyone in Boston¡¯s underworld does. "La S¨¢dica," they call her. ¡®No fucking idea what it means, though. I failed Spanish.¡¯ Caterina¡¯s most dangerous rival and the only woman who¡¯s ever gone toe-to-toe with her and lived to tell about it. ¡°I can save Adam,¡± she¡¯d said on the call, cutting straight to the point. ¡°But I need something from you first.¡± I¡¯d expected money, information about Caterina¡¯s operations, maybe even something illegal. But her actual request was oddly specific. ¡°I want Caterina¡¯s complete itinerary for the race weekend at Monza. Every meeting, every dinner reservation, every bathroom break if possible.¡± I glance at the calendar on my computer. The Italian Grand Prix at Monza is just a week away. Caterina never misses it. Which means I have a week to get this information and somehow pass it to Luna without getting caught. I look over at Caterina¡¯s receptionist, a woman named Monica, who sits poised at her desk just outside the main office. Her computer is right there, tantalizingly close, likely containing everything I need, Caterina¡¯s schedule, her travel arrangements for Monza, all the information Luna requested. Monica¡¯s the perfect gatekeeper, competent and utterly loyal to Caterina. She never leaves her post unattended. I fidget with my sobriety chip, trying to think of a way to get access to that computer. Maybe I could create some kind of distraction? Spill coffee on her? Pull the fire alarm? Each idea seems more ridiculous than the last. Suddenly, a sound breaks through my desperate planning, a distinct grunt coming from behind Caterina¡¯s office door. I freeze, my ears straining to make sense of what I¡¯m hearing. There¡¯s another grunt, followed by what can only be described as... moaning? ¡°Cat, we¡¯re in your office,¡± I hear Adam¡¯s voice, breathless and embarrassed. ¡°It¡¯s embarrassing...¡± His protest dissolves into more moaning, the sound unmistakably one of pleasure. My stomach twists with a nauseating mixture of jealousy, disgust, and heartbreak. Monica shifts uncomfortably in her chair, pretending she can¡¯t hear what¡¯s happening behind that door. She reaches for her headphones, slipping them over her ears with practiced efficiency. This isn¡¯t the first time, I realize, with a sickening clarity. As Adam¡¯s moans grow louder, I notice something crucial, Monica is blushin bright red. She stands up, gathering some files. She glances at the office door, winces at a particularly loud sound from inside, and then looks at me with an awkward shrug. She walks away quickly, dignity intact but clearly eager to escape the awkward soundtrack. I watch her disappear around the corner, hardly believing my luck. The computer is right there, unlocked and unattended. ¡®Fuck, should I just go for it right now?¡¯ S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I glance around to make sure no one is watching, then slip into Monica¡¯s chair. My hands shake as I navigate through folders, searching for Caterina¡¯s schedule. Adam¡¯s continued moans from the office provide a disturbing backdrop to my frantic search. The Outlook file opens under my frantic clicking, revealing Caterina¡¯s meticulously organized schedule laid out in color-coded blocks. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I fumble in my pocket, fingers trembling as they close around the small USB drive. I prepare for it to be a long and stressful transfer that comes down to the wire. Relief floods through me as the progress bar zips to completion in less than a second. I quickly close the window, trying to leave everything exactly as Monica had it. The USB feels impossibly heavy in my pocket as I stand up, my legs wobbly beneath me. ¡®Should I look?¡¯ I can¡¯t help myself. Something pulls me toward Caterina¡¯s office door like a magnet. The sounds coming from inside are unmistakable, Adam¡¯s whimpering growing more desperate by the second. I find myself creeping closer. I peek through the gap in the door, my heart pounding so hard I¡¯m sure they must hear it. Adam¡¯s on his back on the couch, his damaged hands splayed uselessly at his sides, while Caterina straddles him, her white suit jacket discarded, her silk blouse unbuttoned just enough to reveal the curve of her breasts. Her blonde hair falls forward like a curtain as she moves above him with a killer¡¯s precision. ¡°Cat,¡± Adam whimpers, his voice breaking with desperation, ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna¡­¡± ¡°No, not yet,¡± Caterina commands. She grabs his wrists, pinning them above his head while her hips continue their relentless rhythm. The sound of skin against skin fills the office, wet and obscene. Adam moans louder than I¡¯ve ever heard him, his back arching off the leather couch as he strains against her grip. His face contorts with a mixture of pleasure and agony that I never once managed to draw from him during our time together. ¡°Please,¡± he begs, ¡°please, Cat, I can¡¯t¡­¡± A laugh suddenly erupts behind me, making me jump so violently I nearly crash into the door. I spin around to find Lara leaning against the wall clutching her sides. Her blue eyes glittering with malicious delight. ¡°Tell me you¡¯re not a cuck on top of everything else, you rancid bitch,¡± she says through her laughter. My face burns with humiliation as I stumble backward. Lara¡¯s smile widens as she watches me squirm, clearly enjoying my discomfort. ¡°I was just¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡± I stammer, each word digging me deeper into this hole. Lara takes a step closer, invading my personal space with predatory intent. ¡°You were just what? Getting off on watching your ex-husband get fucked by the woman you sold him to?¡± Her voice drips with contempt. ¡°That¡¯s a special kind of pathetic, even for you.¡± I shake my head frantically, tears springing to my eyes despite my best efforts to hold them back. The sounds from the office continue, Adam¡¯s moans growing more desperate with each passing second. ¡°This is none of your business,¡± I manage to whisper, trying to edge away from both Lara and the office door. ¡°I was worried about him thats all.¡± Lara shakes her head, a mirthless chuckle escaping her lips. ¡°Whatever. I¡¯m sure she¡¯s only making it this loud for your benefit anyway.¡± She leans in closer, her breath hot against my ear. ¡°Maybe you¡¯d be happier as a cuckquean. It suits your pitiful nature.¡± I turn away from Lara, my face burning with shame and humiliation. Her mocking laughter follows me as I retreat. Somehow I make it back to my cubicle without collapsing of heart break. The sounds from Caterina¡¯s office still reach me even at this distance, Adam¡¯s desperate moans mixing with her commanding voice. ¡°Wait no not there¡­¡± I hear Adam groan out. I sink into my chair, trying to block it out, but the images of the way he begged Caterina for release are already burned into my brain With trembling fingers, I pull the burner phone from my pocket. Luna had given it to me, a cheap flip phone with only her number programmed into it. I hesitate for just a moment before typing out the message: ¡°I got Caterina¡¯s itinerary.¡± Luna¡¯s response comes almost immediately: ¡°Send it.¡± My fingers hover over the tiny keyboard as I type back: ¡°It¡¯s on a USB.¡± Luna texts back: ¡°...¡± Another message follows quickly: ¡°fym it¡¯s on a usb? You coulda just taken a picture.¡± I wince at her obvious frustration. Of course. A picture would have been simpler, faster, safer. But in my panic, with Adam¡¯s moans filling my ears and the fear of discovery sending adrenaline coursing through my veins, I¡¯d defaulted to what I knew, data extraction, clean and complete. ¡®Like a movie! It was the cool choice!¡¯ ¡°I thought you wanted the file,¡± I text back, my thumb pressing too hard on each key. Her reply is swift and exasperated: ¡°Okay, fine, just send the file.¡± ¡°How?¡± I type, the single word feeling inadequate even as I press send. Luna¡¯s response arrives with almost palpable irritation: ¡°Are you fucking serious? Just upload it to your computer and then share it to your phone.¡± My heart sinks as I glance at my work computer. The mere thought of connecting the USB to this machine sends a chill down my spine. ¡°My work computer?¡± I type back. A crying emoji appears on the screen, followed by words that make me cringe: ¡°R U SLOW? Do not upload it to your work computer.¡± I bite my lip, shame burning through me as I type out the truth. ¡°I don¡¯t have a personal computer. I lost it gambling.¡± Luna¡¯s response pops up on the screen, the capital letters practically screaming at me. ¡°JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. I¡¯ll pick up the stupid fucking USB drive from you tonight. Stop messaging me.¡± I stare at the text, relief washing over me like a cool wave. Despite her obvious frustration, she¡¯s coming. She¡¯s actually going to help. I clutch the phone to my chest, a smile breaking across my face for the first time in what feels like forever. ¡°I did it. I actually did something right for once.¡± I can¡¯t help but smile as I whisper to myself. A job well done. ¡®Now I just have to figure out why my period isn¡¯t coming in.¡± Chapter 52: A Gundam Pilot is Born [Adam¡¯s POV] I lie sprawled across Caterina¡¯s office couch, my chest still heaving. The leather sticks to my sweat-slicked back, making an embarrassing sound when I shift positions. The room reeks of sex. She decided to finish me with her hand despite riding me like animal. I see my cum glistening on the ground. Caterina hovers above me. Her crimson eyes gleam with that unique mixture of mania and adoration that never fails to make my stomach flip. Her silk undershirt hangs open, revealing her perfect breasts and the smooth expanse of her stomach. ¡°Ohhh, all done?¡± she mocks, her lips curving into that predatory smile I¡¯ve grown to crave. ¡°I.. I just need to catch my breath,¡± I stammer, embarrassed by how quickly she brought me to climax. She leans down, her lips brushing against my ear, her breath hot against my skin. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you hard for your mommy?¡± she whispers. Her voice bypasses my brain and goes straight to my cock. I groan involuntarily, my body responding before my mind can catch up. Blood rushes south with alarming speed, and just like that, I¡¯m full mast again, straining against her thigh where she¡¯s still straddling me. Caterina pulls back enough to look at me, her smile widening as she feels my reaction. Her crimson eyes dance with amusement and hunger. ¡°Why do you always get so embarrassed when those words get you this hard?¡± she asks, grinding against me just enough to make me whimper. ¡°Because it begs so many questions,¡± I reply, heat flooding my cheeks as I avoid her gaze. Caterina chuckles, her hands moving with skilled purpose to pin my wrists above my head. I barely put up resistance before surrendering to her grip. ¡°My little boy thinks too much,¡± she purrs, leaning down to nip at the base of my throat. ¡°Mommy will take care of everything.¡± I¡¯m shivering now, the press of her body against mine melting away any coherent thought. Her words do something to me, reduce me to quivering mush in her hands. She shifts her weight, sliding her body up mine with feline grace until her thighs bracket my face. The scent of her arousal fills my nostrils, making my head swim with need. ¡°Open your mouth for Mommy,¡± she commands, her voice dropping to that register that makes my entire body shudder with anticipation. I part my lips obediently, my tongue darting out to taste her. She hums with approval, her fingers threading through my hair, gripping tight enough to sting. The slight pain sends sparks down my spine, heightening every sensation. ¡°That¡¯s my good boy,¡± she purrs, lowering herself onto my eager mouth. ¡°Show Mommy how much you love her.¡± I work my tongue against her with desperate enthusiasm, wanting nothing more than to please her. She rocks against my face, taking her pleasure as she sees fit. I feel her thighs tense around my head, her breathing growing more ragged with each passing moment. The knowledge that I¡¯m responsible for her pleasure fills me with a wicked pride. Her movements grow more deliberate, grinding against my face with increasing urgency. I can feel the tremors building in her thighs, the subtle quivering that signals she¡¯s close. My jaw aches, my tongue burns, but I wouldn¡¯t stop for anything in the world. The taste of her fills my senses, drowning out everything else. ¡°Fuck,¡± she hisses, her voice tight with approaching release. ¡°That¡¯s it, that¡¯s it right there.¡± Her fingers tighten in my hair, pulling almost painfully as she holds me exactly where she wants me. I moan against her, the vibration making her gasp. My damaged hands twitch uselessly at my sides, desperate to touch her but unable to do much more than flex weakly against her legs. Caterina¡¯s breathing turns ragged, her perfect composure fracturing as pleasure builds within her. Her hips move with less precision now, more primal need than calculated seduction. I glance up, watching her face through the valley between her breasts as her head falls back. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare stop,¡± she commands her voice, a breathless rasp that sends shivers down my spine. I redouble my efforts, my tongue working faster, harder, exactly how I¡¯ve learned she likes it. The muscles in her stomach tense, rippling beneath her flawless skin. Her thighs begin to tremble around my head, squeezing tighter as she chases her release. A strangled cry escapes her throat, something between a gasp and my name. Her entire body goes rigid above me, thighs clamping around my ears as she shudders violently. I can feel her pulsing against my tongue as she¡¯s slammed with a torrent of pleasure. ¡°Adam,¡± she moans, her voice breaking on my name as she rides out her climax. I stay with her through every tremor, every aftershock, slowing my movements as she gradually comes down from her high. When she finally releases her death grip on my hair, I¡¯m dizzy from lack of oxygen, my face slick with her essence. Caterina looks down at me, her crimson eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. Her grin is nothing short of feral. She slides off my face, shifting her body back down mine, her slick skin gliding against me until we¡¯re face to face. I¡¯m still struggling to catch my breath. ¡°Mommy thinks you deserve a reward,¡± she whispers, biting her lip as she glances down at my neglected erection. She¡¯s off me in a second, dropping to the floor with impossible grace as she settles between my legs. The sight of Caterina kneeling like that never fails to make me giddy. She holds my gaze while she reaches for me, one hand wrapping around my aching shaft, the light pressure already enough to make me twitch and gasp. ¡°You know what Mommy wants to see?¡± she purrs, her crimson eyes locked on mine as her hot breath ghosts over my throbbing cock. ¡°I want to see how long my good boy can last.¡± I swallow hard, already feeling my control slipping. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can last that¡­¡± ¡°Shhh,¡± she interrupts, placing a finger against my lips. ¡°This isn¡¯t about what you think you can do. This is about what I want you to do. And I want you to hold back until I give you permission.¡± Before I can respond, she lowers her head and takes me into her mouth. The wet heat envelops me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. My hips buck involuntarily, but Caterina¡¯s strong hands press down on my thighs, pinning me to the couch. ¡°Stay still,¡± she commands, briefly releasing me from her mouth. ¡°Mommy doesn¡¯t like it when you squirm.¡± I nod frantically, desperate to please her. ¡°Yes, Cat. I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Good boy,¡± she purrs before taking me back into her mouth. Her crimson eyes never leave mine as her head bobs up and down, her perfect lips stretched around my length. The wet sounds of her mouth fill the office, obscene and intoxicating. My fucked up hands twitch uselessly by my sides, the scars pulling tight as I fight the instinct to grab her hair. ¡°Cat,¡± I gasp, my voice cracking. ¡°Please slow down.¡± She responds by taking me deeper, her throat constricting around the head of my cock as she swallows me whole. I feel my eyes roll back, my toes curling against the leather couch. ¡°Fuck,¡± I whimper, already feeling the familiar pressure building at the base of my spine. ¡°I can¡¯t... I¡¯m going to...¡± Caterina pulls back immediately, leaving me throbbing and desperate. Her hand wraps around me, squeezing just tight enough to stave off my release. Her smile is wicked as she watches me struggle. ¡°No, you won¡¯t,¡± she says matter-of-factly. ¡°Not until Mommy says so.¡± S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I¡¯m panting now, sweat beading on my forehead as I fight against my body¡¯s desperate need for release. Caterina watches me, enjoying my struggle like it¡¯s the finest entertainment. ¡°Please,¡± I beg. ¡°Shh,¡± she soothes, her voice deceptively gentle. ¡°You¡¯re doing so well for Mommy.¡± Just when I think I¡¯ve regained some control, she lowers her head again, this time taking just the tip between her lips. Her tongue swirls around the sensitive head, tracing patterns that make my entire body tremble. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, anything to distract from the overwhelming pleasure threatening to push me over the edge. I close my eyes to force out the erotic image of Caterina. My breath comes in short, desperate pants, each inhale burning in my lungs. ¡°Look at me,¡± Caterina commands, briefly releasing me from her mouth. I force my eyes open, meeting her crimson gaze. The power in those eyes, the absolute control she wields over me, is almost as overwhelming as the physical sensation of her mouth. ¡°I want to see your face while you¡¯re fighting not to come,¡± she purrs. ¡°It¡¯s so pretty when you¡¯re desperate.¡± She takes me deep again, her throat muscles working around me as she swallows. I can feel her gagging slightly, but she doesn¡¯t pull back. If anything, she pushes forward, taking me impossibly deeper. My vision starts to blur at the edges, the pressure building to an unbearable point. I¡¯m trembling all over now, every muscle tense as I fight against the inevitable. ¡°Cat,¡± I plead, my voice barely a whisper. ¡°I can¡¯t... I can¡¯t hold back anymore.¡± Caterina pulls off me with an obscene pop. Her hand tightens around the base of my cock again. ¡°Not yet,¡± she says, her voice sweet but firm as iron. ¡°I want to see how much more you can take.¡± With a wicked gleam in her eyes, Caterina descends on me again, taking my entire length in one fluid motion. I feel the tight constriction of her throat as she pushes past her comfort zone, her eyes watering slightly at the corners. But instead of pulling back, she pushes even deeper, her nose pressing against my stomach as she takes me as far as she can. I can feel her throat spasm around me as she gags, the sensation sending electric currents through my entire body. But what undoes me completely is the look in her eyes as she stares up at me through tear-spiked lashes. Despite the obscene position, despite the power she wields over me, her crimson eyes hold something unmistakable, a possessive, consuming love that burns hotter than any physical sensation. With my cock still buried deep in her throat, her lips stretched wide around my base, she somehow manages to form words. The vibration of her voice around my flesh is the final straw. ¡°Cum for Mommy,¡± she commands, the words garbled but unmistakable. The dam breaks. My entire body convulses as pleasure erupts through me like a volcanic explosion, hot and violent and unstoppable. My damaged hands claw uselessly at the leather couch as I cry out. ¡°Cat!¡± My vision going white at the edges as my release pulses through me in endless waves. Caterina¡¯s mouth takes it all, swallowing everything I give her with greedy satisfaction. When the last tremor finally subsides, leaving me boneless and gasping on the couch, she pulls back slowly, licking her lips with theatrical relish. ¡°Good boy,¡± she purrs, crawling back up my body to plant a possessive kiss on my lips. I can taste myself on her tongue, the intimacy of it making me shudder all over again. When she pulls back, her crimson eyes are soft with satisfaction. ¡°You did so well for Mommy,¡± she whispers, stroking my cheek with surprising tenderness. I lean into her touch like a starving man offered food, desperate for her approval. ¡°Thank you.¡± A/N "You Have to Pilot the Gundam, Adam." The gundam: Chapter 53: Good Morning I wake up to the sensation of warmth and pressure, my consciousness swimming lazily to the surface like a bubble in molasses. There¡¯s a weight on my hips, a rhythmic movement that¡¯s dragging me from sleep despite my body¡¯s protests. I blink as the bedroom ceiling comes into focus. ¡°Mmm?¡± I mumble, my brain still half-asleep and struggling to process what¡¯s happening. That¡¯s when I feel it, the slick, tight heat engulfing me, the gentle rocking motion, the soft sounds of pleasure floating through the dim room. I look up to see Caterina straddling me. Her crimson eyes are half-lidded, watching me with that mixture of possession and genuine affection that still makes my heart skip. ¡°Morning,¡± I say casually, like finding her riding me awake is the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it is, in this strange new reality I¡¯ve accepted. ¡°Good morning, sleepyhead,¡± she purrs, not breaking her rhythm. Her hands rest lightly on my chest, fingertips tracing idle patterns across my skin. ¡°You were having such a nice dream.¡± ¡°Was I?¡± I ask, slowly waking up properly. The pleasure building in my body helps chase away the fog of sleep. Caterina nods, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips. There¡¯s none of the usual aggression, none of the dominance that typically characterizes our encounters. Just tenderness, her mouth moving against mine with unhurried desire. ¡°You were smiling in your sleep,¡± she whispers against my lips. ¡°And you were so hard. I couldn¡¯t resist.¡± I chuckle, the sound turning into a groan as she shifts her angle slightly. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want you to.¡± Caterina¡¯s movements grow more deliberate. Her crimson eyes hold mine with hypnotic intensity as she leans down. ¡°Adam,¡± she whispers, her voice unusually soft, almost vulnerable, ¡°I should tell you I¡¯m ovulating today, so make sure you don¡¯t cum inside¡­¡± Before she can finish her warning, pleasure crashes through me like a tidal wave. My body betrays me completely, hips bucking upward as I drive deeper into her at the mere mention of ovulation. A strangled moan tears from my throat as my orgasm hits with unexpected force. ¡°Fuck! I¡¯m sorry¡­ I can¡¯t¡­¡± I gasp as my damaged hands try to clutch at her thighs. Fear washes over me as I climax, the hot pulses of release emptying deep inside her. Caterina erupts into peals of laughter, her body shaking above me as I finish emptying myself inside her. It¡¯s not her usual controlled chuckle or predatory smile, this is pure, uninhibited joy, her head thrown back, blonde hair cascading down her spine. I¡¯ve never seen her laugh like this, so open and genuine, tears gathering at the corners of her crimson eyes. ¡°Jesus Christ, Adam,¡± she gasps between fits of laughter, ¡°how many weird fetishes do you have hiding in that adorable head of yours?¡± ¡°No, no, I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡± I stammer, my face burning with embarrassment as the fear of having to raise children with her cements itself into my mind. ¡°You just caught me off guard when I was half-asleep and¡­¡± But she¡¯s still laughing, her inner muscles clenching around me with each tremor of her body, sending aftershocks of pleasure through my oversensitive cock. Despite my mortification, there¡¯s something mesmerizing about seeing Caterina like this, all her careful control momentarily shattered by genuine amusement. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Adam. You¡¯re always allowed to cum in me,¡± she finally manages, wiping tears from her eyes. To my surprise, she doesn¡¯t seem bothered at all by what just happened. Instead, her crimson eyes take on that dangerous gleam I¡¯ve come to recognize, the one that means she¡¯s about to push me further into unknown territory. She leans down, her breasts pressing against my chest as her lips brush against my ear. ¡°What if I told you that I want you to knock up your mommy?¡± She whispers. I feel even more blood rush to my face and, impossibly, to my cock as well. Despite having just climaxed, I¡¯m hardening inside her again, my body responding to her words with a mind of its own. The shame and arousal mix together in a cocktail so potent I can barely breathe. ¡°Stop,¡± I groan, trying to cover my face with my damaged hands. The scarred fingers don¡¯t cooperate, making my attempt at hiding even more pathetic. Caterina catches my wrists easily, pinning them above my head with one strong hand. Her other hand cups my burning cheek, forcing me to look at her. ¡°Why are you hiding?¡± she asks, a wicked smile playing on her perfect lips. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of, baby. Mommy loves how responsive you are.¡± I squirm beneath her, caught between wanting to sink through the mattress in embarrassment and thrusting up into her warmth. My cock throbs inside her, fully hard again despite my mental protests. ¡°This is so messed up,¡± I whisper, unable to meet her gaze. ¡°Maybe,¡± she concedes, rolling her hips in a slow, deliberate circle that makes me gasp. ¡°But you love it. And I love what you love.¡± Caterina tilts her head to one side, studying me with an analytical gaze like I¡¯m a specimen under her microscope. Her crimson eyes narrow slightly, her perfect brow furrowing as she processes this new information about me. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Fascinating,¡± she murmurs, her hips still moving in slow, deliberate circles. The friction sends jolts of pleasure up my spine, making me moan despite my embarrassment. ¡°What?¡± I gasp, trying to focus on her words rather than the exquisite sensation of her body around mine. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to figure you out,¡± she says, her voice taking on that clinical tone she sometimes uses when she¡¯s genuinely curious about something. ¡°Every time I think I understand all your buttons, I find a new one to push.¡± She rolls her hips more forcefully, watching my reaction with scientific precision. I can¡¯t help the groan that escapes me, my back arching slightly off the mattress. ¡°Impregnate me,¡± she commands. I moan again, louder this time, my cock twitching inside her at the forbidden words. My damaged hands strain against her grip, but she holds me effortlessly pinned. Caterina leans down, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers, ¡°Imagine me pregnant with your baby.¡± The image floods my mind unbidden, Caterina¡¯s flat stomach swollen with our child, her crimson eyes glowing with that possessive pride as she carries my offspring. It¡¯s terrifying and surprisingly arousing in equal measure, and I feel myself getting dangerously close to the edge again. ¡°No, no, no,¡± I gasp, fighting against the building pressure with everything I have. ¡°Too soon, I just came, I can¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°Look at you,¡± she purrs, a smile spreading across her face as she watches me struggle. ¡°Fighting so hard not to cum again. You¡¯re so adorable when you¡¯re desperate.¡± Her movements become more deliberate, her inner muscles clenching around me with practiced precision. She knows exactly what she¡¯s doing, exactly how to push me past my limits. ¡°Just think about it,¡± she whispers, her breath hot against my skin. ¡°Imagine marking mommy with your seed.¡± That does it. The dam breaks, and pleasure explodes through me like a supernova. I cry out, my voice breaking as a second orgasm tears through me, somehow even more intense than the first. My hips buck wildly beneath her, driving myself deeper into her warmth as I empty whatever I have left. ¡°Cat! Fuck! CAT!¡± My groans are completely out of control, echoing off the penthouse walls as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. Caterina bursts into laughter again. Her body shakes above me, each movement sending ripples of aftershock through my oversensitive cock as I continue pulsing inside her. But I can¡¯t join in her laughter. Instead, I stare up at her with naked need in my eyes, my lips parted slightly, breathing ragged. There¡¯s something raw and vulnerable in my expression that cuts through her amusement like a knife through butter. Her laughter fades as our eyes lock. Her crimson gaze softens at the edges, taking in my desperate expression. ¡°Oh, baby,¡± she whispers, her expression suddenly gentle. ¡°I forgot how much you love to kiss when you cum.¡± She leans down, capturing my lips with unexpected tenderness as the final ropes of my release empty inside her. I whimper pathetically into her mouth, completely overwhelmed by sensation and emotion. My damaged hands twitch uselessly as I surrender completely to her kiss, melting into her as if we could somehow become one entity. Her tongue slides against mine, claiming me as thoroughly as her body has claimed my seed. When she finally breaks the kiss, I¡¯m breathless and dizzy, staring up at her with uncomplicated adoration. In this moment, all the complications fade away, the captivity, the addiction, the fear, leaving only this raw connection between us. I can¡¯t form words yet, my brain still floating in a post-orgasmic haze. Instead, I make a small, contented sound in the back of my throat, nuzzling into her palm like a cat seeking affection. Caterina shifts slightly, careful not to disconnect our bodies as she settles more comfortably on top of me. I can feel our combined wetness between us, the physical evidence of what we¡¯ve just done. The thought should disturb me, the potential consequences terrifying, but in this moment, I can¡¯t bring myself to care. ¡°You know I¡¯m on birth control, right?¡± she says after a moment, her crimson eyes watching my reaction carefully. I blink slowly, her words taking a moment to penetrate my pleasure-fogged brain. ¡°What?¡± I mumble, confusion replacing the blissful emptiness. A smirk plays at the corners of her perfect lips. ¡°Birth control, Adam. I¡¯ve been on it since we met. There¡¯s no chance of pregnancy.¡± Relief floods through me as her words sink in. The tight knot of anxiety in my chest loosens, replaced by a strange mixture of embarrassment and amusement. ¡°So this was all just a test?¡± I ask, my voice still raspy from the intensity of my dual orgasms. ¡°The whole ¡®I¡¯m ovulating¡¯ thing?¡± Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes dance with mischief as she chuckles. ¡°Yeah,¡± she admits, her smile widening to reveal perfect teeth. ¡°I wanted to see how you¡¯d react. I definitely did not expect... that.¡± She gestures vaguely to where our bodies are still joined, the evidence of my enthusiasm still warm between us. Her arms wrap around me, pulling me tight against her body. I feel our sweat-slicked skin sliding together as she adjusts our position so I¡¯m practically enveloped by her. My face naturally finds its place nestled between her breasts, and I inhale deeply, drawing her scent into my lungs like it¡¯s oxygen. ¡°We can cuddle for ten more minutes,¡± she murmurs, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across my back. ¡°Then we have to pack for Monza. The flight leaves later today.¡± I close my eyes, sinking into the blissful warmth of her embrace. ¡°Sounds good.¡± Chapter 54: A King Needs His Crown The jet hums beneath me, a gentle vibration that melts into the general floaty feeling of whatever Caterina gave me before takeoff. I¡¯m sprawled across her lap on the private jet¡¯s luxurious couch, my head nestled against her shoulder, my gross hands resting limply in my lap. Everything feels soft around the edges, wrapped in cotton and warmth. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes keep darting down to me, her perfect lips twitching at the corners like she¡¯s trying not to burst out laughing. Every few minutes, she¡¯ll make this little snorting sound, then compose herself again, stroking my hair with calculated tenderness. Across from us, Maddy sits primly in a single leather seat, her sharp features softened slightly by the hint of a smile as she pretends to focus on her tablet. Lara lounges in the adjacent seat, her wild red hair a stark contrast to the jet¡¯s muted interior, her blue eyes gleaming with predatory curiosity. ¡°What¡¯s so funny, boss?¡± Lara finally asks, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. ¡°You¡¯ve been about to lose it for the last hour.¡± I feel heat rush to my face as memories from this morning flood back through the drug haze. ¡°Don¡¯t tell her, Cat,¡± I mumble, burying my face against Caterina¡¯s silk blouse. ¡°It¡¯s so embarrassing.¡± Caterina feigns a frown, her crimson eyes narrowing in mock offense. ¡°You think I would ever talk about our love life, Adam?¡± she asks, her voice dripping with exaggerated indignation. I sigh, not knowing the right answer. The drugs make everything fuzzy and pleasant, but they don¡¯t make social cues any easier to read. ¡°I have no idea,¡± I admit, my voice slightly slurred. ¡°I¡¯m on cloud nine right now.¡± A smile tugs at the corner of her perfect lips, but she suppresses it quickly, replacing it with another theatrical frown. ¡°Hmm, perhaps I should lower your dosage,¡± she muses, tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully. I don¡¯t believe her for a second. She only punishes me if I do something wrong, and I¡¯ve been so good lately. The very thought makes me snuggle closer, my body instinctively seeking more contact with hers. The movement seems to please her. Her pretense drops away as a genuine smile spreads across her face, illuminating her crimson eyes with that dangerous light I¡¯ve come to crave. ¡°My, my, Adam,¡± she purrs, her fingers threading through my hair with possessive tenderness. ¡°You really are so obedient now.¡± Her words wash over me like warm honey, sweet and thick with approval. I feel myself practically melting against her, my damaged hands twitching with the desire to touch her in return. ¡°I want to be,¡± I whisper against her skin. Lara bursts into laughter, slapping her knee with unrestrained delight. ¡°Boss, I can¡¯t believe you speedran giving Stockholm syndrome to Adam! That¡¯s gotta be some kind of record!¡± Maddy sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as she sets her tablet down on the side table. The gesture is subtle but speaks volumes about how often she deals with Lara¡¯s inappropriate outbursts. Caterina¡¯s fingers pause in my hair, her body tensing slightly beneath me. Her crimson eyes narrow as they lock on Lara¡¯s gleeful face. ¡°Must you word it so savagely?¡± she asks, her voice carrying that dangerous silk quality that usually precedes someone getting hurt. ¡°I merely accelerated his adaptation to a more suitable lifestyle. It¡¯s for his best, really.¡± I should feel offended or at least disturbed by their casual discussion of my psychological state, but between the drugs, Connor¡¯s safety, and Jessica¡¯s safety, who cares. As long those two are secure, nothing else matters. If I¡¯m enjoying myself, it just makes it better for them. That¡¯s not my fault. Caterina glances down at me, her crimson eyes softening with genuine affection. ¡°Adam, don¡¯t you feel happier now than you did before you were with me?¡± The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with more meaning than her casual tone suggests. I consider my old life, the cramped apartment, the constant money stress, the complete lack of bitches. I look up at her, a lazy smile spreading across my face. ¡°Cat, if I had to go back to eating Burger King off paper plates, I¡¯d kill myself.¡± Maddy¡¯s eyebrows shoot up, her forehead creasing with confusion. ¡°Didn¡¯t I just deliver you Burger King yesterday to her office?¡± she asks, her voice tinged with genuine puzzlement. I turn toward her with a grin splitting my face, feeling strangely proud of myself. ¡°Yeah, Caterina fed it to me off fine china.¡± The cabin erupts with laughter, even Maddy¡¯s usually composed features break a little. Caterina throws her head back, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders as she laughs with unrestrained delight. ¡°See?¡± Caterina says once the laughter subsides, her crimson eyes gleaming as she looks at Maddy and Lara. ¡°He¡¯s adapting beautifully.¡± As Caterina continues to stroke my hair, a random thought bubbles up through my drug-hazed mind. I stare out the oval window at the clouds drifting by, the jet engines humming steadily. ¡°Hey, do you think this plane is big enough to 9/11 with?¡± I ask. The cabin goes silent. Maddy looks over at me with horrified eyes, her tablet nearly slipping from her fingers. Caterina¡¯s hand freezes mid-stroke in my hair, her crimson eyes widening with genuine surprise. Lara, however, just scoffs loudly. ¡°Yeah, right,¡± she says, rolling her eyes. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask, confused by her dismissive tone. Lara leans forward in her seat, her wild red hair framing her face like flames. ¡°9/11 didn¡¯t happen because of planes, idiot.¡± ¡°What?¡± I blink at her, trying to process what she¡¯s just said. Maddy immediately puts down her tablet, alarm flashing across her face. ¡°No, please don¡¯t get her started,¡± she groans. ¡°The planes were actually missiles covered in holograms,¡± Lara continues, completely ignoring Maddy¡¯s plea. Her blue eyes gleam with manic energy as she warms to her topic. ¡°Smart people believe the Bush administration did it to justify invading Iraq for oil. Everyone knows this.¡± ¡°Everyone does not know this,¡± Maddy interjects, her voice strained with exasperation. ¡°Because it¡¯s not true.¡± Lara waves her hand dismissively. ¡°That¡¯s what they want you to think. Jet fuel can¡¯t melt steel beams!¡± I look up at Caterina, who¡¯s watching this exchange with an expression somewhere between amusement and annoyance. Her fingers resume their gentle stroking of my hair. ¡°Is she serious?¡± I whisper, though, in the confined space of the jet cabin, everyone can hear me. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Caterina sighs, her crimson eyes rolling skyward. ¡°Lara has... unique perspectives on certain historical events.¡± ¡°Unique?¡± Lara exclaims, clearly offended. ¡°I¡¯m just not a sheep blindly accepting the official narrative!¡± I roll my eyes. ¡°Let me guess, you think COVID was probably an inside job too?¡± Lara¡¯s brow furrows in genuine confusion. ¡°What¡¯s COVID?¡± I blink, momentarily unsure if this is part of her conspiracy theorist schtick or if she genuinely doesn¡¯t know. I turn to Caterina, bewilderment clear on my face. ¡°Cat, she doesn¡¯t remember COVID?¡± I ask, my voice pitched higher with disbelief. Caterina tilts her head, her crimson eyes studying me with curious intensity. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is either.¡± My brain short-circuits for a moment. I push myself up from Caterina¡¯s lap, the drugs in my system making the movement clumsy. ¡°The pandemic? Lockdowns? Everyone wearing masks for like two years? That whole global nightmare?¡± Maddy exchanges a concerned glance with Caterina. ¡°Adam, are you feeling alright? Perhaps the medication is causing some confusion.¡± ¡°No, no, I¡¯m not¡­¡± I stop myself, suddenly uncertain. The drugs are making everything fuzzy, but I know COVID happened. Everyone knows COVID happened. Don¡¯t they? ¡°Maybe it was a dream you had?¡± Lara suggests, looking almost sympathetic. ¡°Or a movie you watched? I mean, a global pandemic would be pretty memorable.¡± I sink back against Caterina, my damaged hands trembling slightly. ¡°But it was real. Everyone was stuck at home. We had to wear masks everywhere.¡± Caterina pulls me closer, her arms wrapping around me with a protective urgency that makes my heart race. Her silk blouse cool against my burning cheek. ¡°Shh, baby,¡± she whispers, her voice soft and soothing. ¡°This is part of those fake memories, remember? This is because of the assault, okay? But I¡¯m here. You¡¯re safe.¡± I feel her lips brush against my head as she continues to hold me, her heartbeat steady against my ear. ¡°I¡¯ll always keep you safe from now on,¡± she promises, her words vibrating through her chest and into my body. Her breast is smooshed against my face, the soft pressure making it hard to fight against the comfort she¡¯s offering. The drugs in my system amplify the sensation, turning it into a cocoon of bliss that wraps around my frazzled nerves. ¡®I guess Covid didn¡¯t happen in this world.¡¯ ¡°Thanks,¡± I mumble against her blouse. As the conversation fades into comfortable silence, my gaze drifts aimlessly around the cabin. That¡¯s when I notice something tucked beside Lara on her seat, a folded blue fabric that looks vaguely familiar. Squinting, I realize it¡¯s a baseball cap. ¡°What¡¯s that hat for?¡± I ask, nodding toward the blue cap next to Lara. The atmosphere in the cabin shifts instantly. Caterina¡¯s body tenses beneath me, her fingers pausing mid-stroke in my hair. Lara¡¯s eyes widen slightly before her face splits into an evil grin. ¡°Oh, uhh, don¡¯t worry about that,¡± Caterina says quickly, her voice carrying an unusual note of discomfort. Lara snickers but doesn¡¯t say anything, her blue eyes dancing with mischief as she glances between me and the hat. The awkward silence stretches between us, making my drugged brain work overtime, trying to figure out what¡¯s going on. ¡°Is it okay?¡± I press, suddenly concerned about why a simple hat is causing such a weird reaction. Caterina sighs, her crimson eyes briefly closing as if she¡¯s mentally calculating the best approach. When she opens them, there¡¯s a resigned acceptance in her gaze. ¡°It¡¯s the hat you wore a while ago,¡± she admits, her voice carefully neutral. Curiosity piqued, I shift in her lap to get a better look. Lara, still grinning like a maniac, holds it up for me to see. The blue baseball cap unfolds in her hands, revealing white embroidered letters across the front that read: ¡°Please be patient I have autism¡± in cheerful, rounded font. I remember the embarrassment of stealing that hat. ¡°Oh,¡± I say quietly, heat rising to my cheeks as the full weight of the memory settles on me. ¡°That hat.¡± Caterina reaches over and takes the hat from Lara, examining it with an amused smile playing on her lips. She runs her fingers over the embroidered words, crimson eyes flickering between the cap and my face. ¡°We might have you wear it at the track. That way, if anyone notices you seem particularly... medicated, they¡¯ll just assume it¡¯s because of this.¡± S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I stare at the hat for a long moment, torn between humiliation and the desperate need to please her. The drugs swimming through my system make the decision easier than it should be. What¡¯s a little public embarrassment compared to¡­ Hammer. ¡°If it¡¯s what you want, it¡¯s fine,¡± I sigh, my damaged hands twitching in my lap. Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes light up. She leans down, pressing her lips against my forehead in a gesture that¡¯s equal parts reward and ownership. ¡°Good boy.¡± Announcement: Retirement :( It''s with a heavy heart that I''m ending this story here. I simply decided i''ve had to much Yandere, reverse rape, Femdom, and Monogamous MC''s. I decided I''m going to move on and only write NTR, Incest (brother on brother), harem, and Tsundere. Im so sorry for all my fans. I''m sorry guys. The vibe: Also spoiler alert. :( Caterina was actually cheating on Adam the whole time. With Keith''s brother. Tragic really. NAH APRIL FOOLS BITCHES IM NOT GOING FUCKING ANYWHERE!!!!! CLAIRE GANG WINNING FOR LIFE WE GETTING A NEW CHAPTER AS SOON AS I FINISH WHATEVER IM WRITING RN. LUNA CRUZ''S ARC IS HERE. WELCOME TO FUCKING MONZA BITCHES!!!!!! S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 55: You are a Toy! The Italian countryside whips past the window of the sleek black SUV, a blur of verdant hills and terracotta buildings that I can barely focus on through my drugged haze. Monza is beautiful, I think, or at least what I can see of it as we speed toward our hotel. I glance over at Caterina, who¡¯s been unusually quiet since we left the airport. Her crimson eyes are fixed on the passing landscape, her perfect profile illuminated by the late afternoon sun. There¡¯s something off about her expression, a slight downturn to her lips, a tension in her jawline that wasn¡¯t there before. ¡°Cat, is something bothering you?¡± She sighs, not turning to look at me right away. When she does finally face me, there¡¯s a pout on her perfect lips that makes her look almost childlike despite her intimidating presence. ¡°Yeah...¡± she says, her crimson eyes locking with mine. ¡°We forgot to join the mile-high club.¡± I blink at her, processing her words through the pleasant fog in my brain. ¡°The mile-high club?¡± ¡°Yes, Adam,¡± she says with exaggerated patience. ¡°Sex on an airplane. It¡¯s called the mile-high club.¡± I stare at her, feeling a weird mix of confusion and amusement bubbling up inside me. This powerful, terrifying woman who literally broke my hands and keeps me drugged is upset because we didn¡¯t have sex on her private jet. A laugh escapes me. ¡°Cat, when you¡¯re not out trying to teach me a lesson, you¡¯re really cute, aren¡¯t you?¡± She looks momentarily surprised, her crimson eyes widening slightly. Then her expression softens, and she reaches across the leather seat to cup my face in her hands. Her touch is gentle, reverent, as her thumbs trace the line of my cheekbones. ¡°Adam, as long as you¡¯re a good boy, I¡¯ll give you the world. I wasn¡¯t joking when I said I would move mountains for you.¡± Her crimson eyes search mine, something vulnerable flickering behind their predatory gleam. ¡°You¡¯ve been so good lately that I think you¡¯re deserving of a little more trust...¡± She pauses, her perfect lips curving into a small smile. ¡°However.¡± That single word hangs between us, loaded with implication. I watch as she reaches down, unzipping a small leather bag by her feet that I hadn¡¯t noticed before. Her movements are deliberate, almost ceremonial, as she reaches inside and pulls out what looks like a strip of black leather. A collar. Simple, elegant, with a small silver tag that catches on the light. I sigh, but it¡¯s not entirely from exasperation. There¡¯s something else there, a strange flutter in my stomach. ¡°Cat, if you put that on me...¡± I start, my voice trailing off as I struggle to find the right words. ¡°And boss me around...¡± I look at her with what I know must be embarrassingly needy eyes. ¡°That will make me a lot weirder than I am now.¡± She looks at me with sudden seriousness, all playfulness vanishing from her perfect features. Her crimson eyes burn acceptance. ¡°I want that for you, Adam,¡± she says, her voice low and fervent. ¡°I want it badly.¡± There¡¯s something so raw, so honest in her expression that I find myself nodding, the movement solemn, like we¡¯re entering into some kind of blood pact. She leans forward, her fingers brushing against my neck as she fastens the collar around my throat. The leather is comfortably snug against my skin. The moment it clicks into place, I feel a rush of blood southward, my body responding to the symbolic ownership in a way that my mind is still trying to process. I glance down at the obvious tent in my expensive pants. Caterina¡¯s eyes drop to my lap, and her lips curve into that soft, loving smile that somehow still manages to look completely unhinged. Her crimson eyes gleam with a mixture of satisfaction and possessiveness that makes my heart race. ¡°Yes, good,¡± she purrs, reaching out to trace a finger along my pants. ¡°This is exactly how my lover should act when he receives a collar.¡± The way she emphasizes ¡°my lover¡± sends another jolt of arousal through me. My damaged hands twitch uselessly in my lap as I try to process the complicated emotions swirling through me, desire, embarrassment, acceptance, and even love. But there is one thing that bothers me. ¡°Cat,¡± I sigh, my voice coming out smaller than I intended, ¡°I feel like I¡¯m just your toy.¡± She draws back slightly, her perfect brow furrowing in what looks like genuine offense. Her crimson eyes narrow as she shakes her head slowly, deliberately. ¡°People lose interest in toys, Adam,¡± she says, her voice carrying an intensity that cuts through my drug haze. Her hand slides up to stroke the collar at my throat, fingers tracing the leather with reverent precision. ¡°Toys are disposable. Replaceable. You¡¯re neither of those things.¡± She shifts closer to me on the leather seat, her thigh pressing against mine as she leans in. ¡°What you are is mine. My possession. My treasure. My passion. My everything.¡± Each word lands like a physical touch, her breath hot against my ear. I shiver despite the warmth of the car, my body responding to her proximity like a flower turning toward the sun. ¡°Understand the difference?¡± she asks, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. ¡°A toy is something you play with and discard. You¡¯re something I would burn the world to keep.¡± I believe her. I¡¯ve seen what she¡¯s capable of. ¡°I understand.¡± Caterina¡¯s smile widens, predatory and pleased. ¡°Good boy,¡± she purrs, leaning in to press her lips against mine in a kiss that feels like both a reward and a claim. When she pulls away, she traces the collar with her fingertip, sending shivers down my spine as the leather shifts against my skin. ¡°Let¡¯s not forget to join the mile-high club on the flight back, alright?¡± Caterina says, her voice a silky promise that makes my already tight pants feel even more restrictive. I feel a grin spread across my face. ¡°I¡¯ll remind you.¡± The SUV slows down, gravel crunching beneath the tires as we pull up to what has to be the fanciest hotel I¡¯ve ever seen. It¡¯s one of those old-school buildings with fancy columns and ornate stonework that screams ¡°you can¡¯t afford this place.¡± A massive fountain dominates the circular driveway, water arcing gracefully in the late afternoon sun. I squint at the elegant lettering above the entrance, trying to make sense of the flowing Italian words. I have no idea what it says. The driver, a stoic woman in a crisp black suit, circles around to open our door. I blink against the brightness, momentarily disoriented by the combination of drugs and jet lag. Caterina slides out first, her white suit somehow still pristine despite hours of travel. She turns back to me, extending her hand with that possessive smile that makes my heart skip. ¡°Come, lover,¡± she says, the endearment sending a shiver down my spine. I let her take my hand, my damaged fingers struggling to grip properly as I step out of the vehicle. My legs feel wobbly beneath me. ¡°Careful,¡± Caterina murmurs, her arm sliding around my waist to steady me. Her touch is firm but gentle, supporting rather than controlling for once. ¡°The drugs might make you a bit unsteady.¡± I lean into her, grateful for the support. ¡°Thanks,¡± I mumble, suddenly aware of how the collar must be visible above my shirt collar. The thought sends heat rushing to my face. ¡®The hat is gonna me look like a freak.¡¯ Caterina seems to read my mind. Her crimson eyes dance with amusement as she reaches up to adjust the leather strap. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she whispers, her lips brushing against my ear. ¡°I won¡¯t make you wear the autism hat unless you really need it.¡± The hotel lobby stretches before us like something out of a movie, all marble floors and crystal chandeliers. The ceiling soars overhead, painted with elaborate frescoes that probably tell some fancy Italian story I¡¯m too American to understand. ¡°Probably the history of spaghetti,¡± I whisper to myself, feeling left out. I¡¯m still leaning on Caterina for support as we make our way across the polished floor, my collar feeling strangely heavy against my throat. The few people scattered around the lobby, wealthy women in tailored suits, male companions in stylish casual wear, barely glance our way. I guess they¡¯re used to seeing powerful women with their collared pets in this part of the world. We¡¯re halfway to the reception desk when I notice them. A tall Latina woman with flowing black hair stands near the grand staircase, her arm wrapped possessively around a slight man who seems to be physically shrinking under her touch. She¡¯s wearing a bright green Hawaiian shirt that somehow looks both ridiculous and menacing at the same time. The woman¡¯s eyes lock onto us, and her face splits into a smile that makes my skin crawl. I feel Caterina stiffen beside me, her arm tightening around my waist. Her crimson eyes narrow slightly. ¡°Cat! What a delightful surprise,¡± The Latina calls out, her voice carrying across the lobby with unsettling cheerfulness. Caterina¡¯s posture shifts subtly, her body angling slightly in front of mine in what feels like a protective stance. ¡°Luna,¡± Caterina says, her voice perfectly controlled. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡± I squint at Luna, trying to place her face in my memories. There¡¯s something vaguely familiar about her, but the pills make everything hard to pinpoint. I think I might have seen her before at some point, maybe at the casino? She¡¯s probably the cartel leader or something. Not that important, really. ¡®Oh yeah the Ex-husband!¡¯ I realize. ¡°Yeah, we came a week early to get hitched, Tony and I,¡± Luna announces, yanking the slight man closer to her side. He stumbles a bit, his thin shoulders hunching further. ¡°Pity you weren¡¯t invited, right babe?¡± The man, Tony, keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the marble floor. ¡°Hello, Caterina,¡± he mumbles, his voice barely audible across the lobby. He doesn¡¯t look up once, his body language screaming discomfort. ¡°Tony,¡± Caterina replies, her voice so flat and disinterested it¡¯s like she¡¯s acknowledging a piece of furniture rather than a person. I can feel the tension crackling between them like static electricity. My damaged hands twitch nervously inside my pockets as I try to make sense of what I¡¯m witnessing. ¡°Well, we¡¯d like to get settled,¡± Caterina says, her arm tightening possessively around my waist as she tries to steer us toward the reception desk. Luna steps forward, blocking our path with a predatory grace that makes my heart rate spike. Her smile widens, showing too many teeth. ¡°We should have drinks together later tonight,¡± she suggests, the cheerfulness in her voice not quite reaching her eyes. ¡°To celebrate my marriage and your...¡± Her green eyes drift down to my collar, then to my damaged hands, a mocking grin spreading across her face. ¡°Your new pet,¡± Luna finishes, her eyes fixed on my collar. ¡°I see you¡¯ve got him properly trained now. And those hands...¡± Her gaze lingers on my scarred fingers. ¡°They seem to be healing nicely.¡± My stomach twists with sudden anxiety. There¡¯s something in her eyes, a calculated cruelty that makes my skin crawl. The way she¡¯s looking at my hands feels invasive like she¡¯s examining merchandise she¡¯s considering purchasing. Caterina¡¯s arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer to her side. I can feel the tension radiating from her body, the barely contained violence simmering just beneath her sexy Latina exterior. ¡°Adam is not a pet,¡± Caterina says, her voice dripping with ice. ¡°He¡¯s my lover. And yes, his hands are healing wonderfully under my care.¡± Luna laughs, the sound echoing off the marble walls like breaking glass. ¡°Of course, of course. My mistake.¡± She winks at me, and something about the gesture makes my blood run cold. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s getting exactly the care he deserves.¡± sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The man beside her, Tony, shifts uncomfortably, his eyes still fixed on the floor. ¡°We really must be going,¡± Caterina says, her crimson eyes never leaving Luna¡¯s face. ¡°Enjoy your... honeymoon.¡± She practically spits the last word, making it sound like an insult rather than a well-wish. As she guides me past Luna, I feel the Latina woman¡¯s gaze burning into my back. ¡°Oh, we will,¡± Luna calls after us, her voice carrying an undercurrent of threat. ¡°See you tomorrow night.¡± A/N: I was talking to someone today. I realized all my covers make it look like im a porn writer. Im not sure what ill do with that info in the future or how i will change the cover if i do again. But for now this will be the new cover. This isn''t a joke. I genuinely just want a cover that feels more like the story im telling. I don''t want people being like "oh i came for porn but then it got weird." In the future I want all of my covers to reflect my writing better. If you hate it let me know. I still probably wont change it though. Chapter 56: 7 UP I sit on the edge of the massive hotel bed, watching Caterina rummage through our luggage to get us ready for a meeting with her cousin. My mind keeps replaying our encounter with Luna and Tony in the lobby. Something makes me feel a pang of annoyance. Something I can¡¯t quite let go of. ¡°Cat,¡± I say, the question burning in my throat, ¡°did you ever hurt Tony? You know, when you were married?¡± Caterina pauses mid-motion, a crisp white dress shirt dangling from her fingers. She turns to face me, one perfect eyebrow arched in confusion. ¡°What? No,¡± she says, sounding genuinely perplexed. ¡°I hardly ever talked to him, let alone laid a finger on him.¡± I fidget with the leather collar around my neck, feeling the smooth material between my damaged fingers. ¡°So you never, like, hammered his hands or anything?¡± I press, watching her face carefully for any sign of deception. Caterina stares at me for a long moment, confusion evident in her crimson eyes. Then, slowly, her expression shifts, understanding dawning across her perfect features. Her lips curl into that evil smile that simultaneously terrifies and arouses me. ¡°Adam,¡± she purrs, dropping the shirt and stalking toward me with predatory grace, ¡°are you jealous?¡± Heat rushes to my face as I squirm under her intense gaze. ¡°No,¡± I mutter unconvincingly, avoiding those piercing crimson eyes. Caterina reaches me in three long strides, her tall frame looming over me where I sit. In one fluid motion, she¡¯s straddling my lap, her strong thighs bracketing mine as she takes my face between her hands. Her touch is gentle but firm, forcing me to look up at her. ¡°I only hurt you because I love you, Adam,¡± she whispers, her crimson eyes burning with an intensity that makes my breath catch. ¡°I never even considered Tony worth the time to hurt.¡± Her words shouldn¡¯t comfort me, but they do. There¡¯s something deeply fucked up about feeling special because I¡¯m the only one she¡¯s broken. Yet the knowledge settles something restless inside me. I lean into her touch, craving the contact despite everything she¡¯s done to me. Or maybe because of it. I¡¯m not sure I really care anymore as long as I feel safe in the moment. Caterina¡¯s hands slide down from my face to my shoulders, her touch leaving trails of electricity on my skin. ¡°We should get you ready,¡± she says, her voice softer than usual. ¡°Arms up.¡± I raise my arms without hesitation, the movement coming naturally now after countless repetitions. She reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and pulls it upward, her knuckles brushing against my ribs as she works the fabric over my head. ¡°Good boy,¡± she purrs, her crimson eyes darkening as she takes in my bare chest. The praise shoots straight to my cock, my body responding to her words like a dog hearing the kibble box shake. I feel myself hardening in my pants, a fact that doesn¡¯t escape Caterina¡¯s notice. Her lips curve into that predatory smile I¡¯ve come to crave. ¡°Cat...¡± I smile, suddenly feeling bold. ¡°Do you think we have time for...?¡± She sighs, her crimson eyes flicking to the elegant watch on her wrist. Her teeth catch her bottom lip as she considers my request, clearly tempted. For a moment, I think she might say yes, push me back onto the bed, and have her way with me. ¡°No,¡± she says finally, genuine disappointment etched across her perfect features. ¡°Valentina is expecting us in twenty minutes.¡± She looks devastated by her own answer, her crimson eyes lingering on the bulge in my pants with naked hunger. It¡¯s strangely empowering to see her want me this badly, to watch her struggle with her own desire. Caterina moves behind me, helping me slip into the crisp button-down shirt she¡¯s selected for dinner. Her movements are precise and gentle as she guides my damaged hands through the sleeves, careful not to put pressure on the healing joints. ¡°By the way,¡± she says casually as she begins fastening the buttons from the bottom up, ¡°Valentina is completely clean. She¡¯s not involved in the family business at all.¡± I turn my head slightly, trying to catch her expression. ¡°Really?¡± The surprise in my voice is genuine. From what little I know of the De Luca family, being uninvolved seems almost impossible. Caterina nods, her crimson eyes focused on aligning the buttons perfectly. ¡°It¡¯s not like she¡¯s ignorant,¡± she explains, her fingers moving deftly up my chest. ¡°Her mother was involved after all, but she dedicated her life to racing when she was young.¡± Her hands pause at my collar, adjusting it carefully around the leather band at my neck. ¡°You¡¯re okay with that?¡± I ask, genuinely curious. Caterina doesn¡¯t strike me as someone who tolerates family members going their own way. She chuckles, the sound low and throaty as she finishes with the top button. ¡°Less competition for the top makes life easier,¡± she says with a shrug. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I can¡¯t help but smile at her pragmatic approach. Of course, Caterina would see her cousin¡¯s career choice through the lens of business advantage rather than family disappointment. ¡°Besides,¡± she adds, reaching for my pants, ¡°having a famous race car driver in the family provides excellent cover. Who would suspect the cousin of Ferrari¡¯s star driver to be running Boston¡¯s criminal enterprises?¡± ¡°That¡¯s true, I guess.¡± ***** The restaurant Caterina has taken me to is exactly what you¡¯d expect from a high-end Italian place frequented by Formula 1 royalty. Chandeliers drip from ornately painted ceilings, and every table seems positioned for optimal privacy while still allowing diners to see and be seen. The hostess, a tall woman with short-cropped hair and a tailored black suit, leads us through the dining room. I¡¯m hyperaware of the collar around my neck as we weave between tables. Caterina¡¯s hand rests possessively on the small of my back, guiding me forward while simultaneously keeping me close. The medication she gave me before we left the hotel has settled into a pleasant hum in my veins, making everything seem slightly less intimidating. ¡°There she is,¡± Caterina murmurs, her crimson eyes fixed on a table near the back of the restaurant. I follow her gaze and see a woman who could only be related to Caterina. She has the same striking blonde hair, though cut much shorter in an athletic style that frames her face. As she stands to greet us, I¡¯m struck by how tall she is, nearly matching Caterina¡¯s impressive height. But it¡¯s her eyes that catch me off guard, the same unnatural red as Caterina¡¯s, a genetic anomaly that apparently runs in the family. Valentina¡¯s face breaks into a wide, genuine smile when she spots us. There¡¯s something disarming about her expression, none of the predatory calculation I¡¯ve grown accustomed to seeing in Caterina¡¯s face. ¡°Caterina!¡± she calls out, her voice carrying a spaghetti sauce thick Italian. They meet in the middle, embracing with the enthusiastic familiarity of family members who genuinely like each other but don¡¯t see each other often enough. Valentina claps Caterina on the back in a gesture that seems almost brotherly, while Caterina¡¯s embrace is more reserved but no less affectionate. ¡°Cousin, it¡¯s been too long,¡± Valentina says as they separate, her crimson eyes sparkling with genuine warmth. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, Val,¡± Caterina replies, her usual predatory demeanor softening just slightly around the edges. Valentina¡¯s gaze shifts to me, curiosity evident in her expression. I notice her eyes briefly flick to the collar around my neck, but her face reveals nothing beyond polite interest. ¡°Val, this is my lover, Adam,¡± Caterina says, her arm sliding around my waist in a gesture that¡¯s both possessive and protective. Caterina turns to me with a slight nod, her crimson eyes softening in a way that I¡¯ve come to recognize as permission to speak. ¡°Hello, It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡± Valentina¡¯s smile widens as she extends her hand toward mine. ¡°The pleasure is all mine. Cat never introduces me to anyone important to her.¡± Before I can respond, Caterina smoothly intercepts the handshake. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Val, but Adam¡¯s hands are severely¡­ broken,¡± she explains, her tone matter-of-fact despite the horrific implications. ¡°They¡¯re still healing.¡± Valentina¡¯s scarlet eyes widen as they drop to my damaged hands. I resist the urge to hide them in my pockets as she takes in the scarring and unnatural angles of my fingers. Then her gaze shifts to my collar, lingering there for a heartbeat too long. ¡°Ah, I see,¡± she says, her voice carefully neutral. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡± There¡¯s something in her expression, a flash of understanding, perhaps concern, that makes me wonder how much she truly knows about Caterina. But it¡¯s gone in an instant, replaced by that same warm smile. ¡°Please, sit down,¡± she says, gesturing to the table. Caterina guides me to a chair, her hand never leaving me. As we settle in, a waiter appears immediately, pouring wine into our glasses with practiced precision. ¡°So,¡± Caterina says, swirling the deep red wine in her glass, ¡°how¡¯s the race looking for Sunday?¡± Valentina¡¯s face falls, her crimson eyes dimming as she gazes into her wine glass. She swirls the dark liquid absently, her shoulders slumping slightly beneath her Ferrari team jacket. ¡°Honestly?¡± she sighs, setting down her glass with a delicate clink against the tablecloth. ¡°I¡¯ll be lucky to get fifth place on Sunday. The car¡¯s just not competitive this season.¡± The disappointment in her voice is palpable, a stark contrast to her earlier warmth. She runs a hand through her short blonde hair, frustration evident in the gesture. ¡°It¡¯s truly disheartening,¡± she continues, her Italian accent thickening with emotion. ¡°I thought I could lead Ferrari to victory, you know? An Italian for an Italian team. Give the fans something to celebrate.¡± Caterina leans forward, her crimson eyes studying her cousin with unusual softness. ¡°Are you still thinking about retiring this year?¡± Valentina nods, a sad smile playing at the corners of her lips. ¡°Seven championships is plenty, don¡¯t you think? I¡¯ve had a good run.¡± My eyes widen at this revelation. Even through my drug haze, I recognize the significance of what she¡¯s saying. ¡°Wow, seven wins...¡± I murmur, genuinely impressed. ¡°That¡¯s so many.¡± Caterina¡¯s lips curve into a proud smile as she glances at me. ¡°Yes, Valentina here is tied for the most world championships ever won in Formula 1.¡± I look between them, curious now. ¡°Who¡¯s the other driver?¡± ¡°Michaela Schumacher,¡± Valentina answers, a respectful tone entering her voice as she mentions the name. ¡°Oh, cool,¡± I nod, pretending to know more than I do. Caterina swirls her wine thoughtfully before asking, ¡°Hey, do you ever hear anything about Michaela these days?¡± Valentina¡¯s expression darkens, her crimson eyes dropping to the table. ¡°No,¡± she says quietly. ¡°I think she might be brain-dead after the skiing accident. The family keeps everything very private.¡± A somber silence falls over our table, the background chatter of the restaurant suddenly seeming too loud in contrast. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the collar around my neck feeling heavier somehow. ¡°Such a waste,¡± Caterina finally says, breaking the tension. ¡°She was a legend.¡± Valentina nods in agreement, then deliberately brightens, clearly wanting to change the subject. ¡°Enough about racing. Tell me about you two! How did you meet?¡± I freeze, panic flashing through my system despite the drugs. What are we supposed to say? ¡®Oh, Claire sold me to her to pay off gambling debts, then Caterina broke my hands with a hammer¡¯? Caterina¡¯s crimson eyes meet mine for a split second, a silent communication passing between us. Her lips curl into a smile that makes me want to jump her bones on the table. ¡°I found him in a rather difficult situation,¡± she says, her voice smooth as silk as she reaches over to stroke my cheek with unexpected tenderness. ¡°And I saved him. Simple as that.¡± The simplicity of her answer hangs in the air between us. It¡¯s not a lie, not exactly. Lord only knows what else Claire would have done had I stayed with her. ¡®Probably not hammer me though¡­¡¯ Valentina¡¯s crimson eyes flicker between us, taking in Caterina¡¯s possessive touch and my docile acceptance of it. For a moment, I think she might press for details, might ask about the collar or my hands or the way I keep glancing at Caterina for permission to speak. But something in Caterina¡¯s expression seems to warn her off. ¡°Well,¡± Valentina says with a small nod and a smile that doesn¡¯t quite reach her eyes, ¡°sometimes the simplest stories are the best ones.¡± Valentina: Chapter 57: Mission Winnow I lean back in my plush seat, watching the sleek Formula 1 cars scream around the Monza circuit through the tinted glass of our private viewing box. The cars are so fast they''re almost a blur, their engines wailing like banshees as they hit speeds that make my stomach drop just thinking about them. The qualifying session is in full swing, with Valentina currently sitting in P7, fighting for a better position on tomorrow''s starting grid. Our booth sits high above the track, giving us a perfect view of the entire circuit. It''s all leather seats, polished wood, and chrome fixtures. The walls are soundproofed just enough that we can talk without shouting over the engines but still hear enough of the race to feel the excitement. Caterina sits beside me, looking impossibly elegant in her white suit. Her crimson eyes track her cousin''s red Ferrari with laser focus as it navigates the chicane. Lara lounges across from us tapping on an ipad, her wild red hair a stark contrast to her tailored black suit, feet propped up on an ottoman despite Maddy''s disapproving glances. Maddy herself sits primly at the edge of her seat, somehow managing to look both relaxed and ready for business at any moment. A handful of Caterina''s security detail stand at strategic points around the booth, their expressions impassive, eyes constantly scanning for threats. My wine glass is almost empty, the rich red Italian vintage leaving a pleasant warmth in my stomach that complements the pills Caterina gave me before we arrived. Everything feels plastic. The leather collar around my neck is a constant reminder of my place, snug but not to tight. Caterina notices my near-empty glass and turns to me, her predatory focus momentarily shifting from the race to her favorite possession, me. "Baby, do you want some more wine?" she asks, her voice carrying that special tone she reserves just for me, somewhere between commanding and affectionate. I smile lazily up at her, my damaged hands resting uselessly in my lap. "Ahh, yes, please," I respond, the words coming out slightly slurred. Her perfect lips curve into that smile that still makes my heart skip, even after everything. She reaches for the bottle, pouring the ruby liquid with the precise movements of someone who''s always in complete control. "Open up, baby," she says, lifting the glass to my lips. She tips the wine carefully, letting it flow into my mouth like a gentle crimson stream. I swallow obediently, savoring the rich berry notes and subtle oak finish. Part of me wishes she''d try that thing where she''d hold the wine in her mouth and then kiss me, passing it between us like some kind of erotic sommelier trick. But I guess that''s impractical with wine. Not like it''s a little pill she could slip between my lips with her tongue. A giggle erupts from across the booth, breaking my wine-induced reverie. I glance over to see Lara hunched over her iPad, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as her fingers scroll frantically across the screen. "What?" Caterina asks, her crimson eyes narrowing with mild irritation at the interruption. Lara looks up, her wild red hair falling across her face as she shakes her head dismissively. "Nothing important, boss," she says, but the barely contained laughter in her voice suggests otherwise. Caterina turns back to me, her attention refocusing like a predator who momentarily lost sight of its prey. Her gaze drops to my mouth, where a drop of wine still clings to my lower lip. I find myself staring at her perfect lips, remembering how they felt against mine just hours ago in our hotel room. "You look desperate," she whispers, leaning in close enough that I can smell her signature scent, something expensive and uniquely her. Before I can respond, she closes the distance between us, capturing my lips in a deep, possessive kiss that makes my head spin more than the drugs or wine ever could. Her tongue slides against mine with practiced precision, claiming every inch of my mouth as if establishing ownership all over again. My damaged hands twitch uselessly in my lap, desperate to pull her in but physically unable. When she finally pulls back, there''s a wild smile on her face, her crimson eyes glittering with satisfaction at the dazed expression she''s left me with. Another giggle breaks the moment, louder this time. Lara is still fixated on her iPad, shoulders shaking. Caterina''s expression shifts from satisfaction to annoyance in an instant. She turns sharply toward Lara, her patience clearly exhausted. "What the fuck are you laughing at?" she demands, her voice carrying that dangerous edge that usually makes people cower. Lara looks up, completely unfazed by Caterina''s tone. Her blue eyes dance with manic amusement as she waves the iPad vaguely in the air. "It''s just the comments for my novel," she explains, grinning like a lunatic. "People are very upset with me over the latest chapter." "Your novel?" I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them. Lara''s face lights up with pride, her blue eyes twinkling with manic energy. "Hell yeah! I write web novels," she announces, puffing up her chest like she''s just admitted to curing cancer. "Got quite the following, actually." Caterina lets out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You mean like... fan fiction?" she asks, not bothering to hide her disdain. "It''s original fiction," Lara insists, clutching her iPad defensively. Maddy rolls her eyes so hard I''m surprised they don''t get stuck in the back of her head. "What she means is she writes shitty stories for idiots online to jill off to," she clarifies, her tone flat and matter-of-fact. "Complete garbage with terrible grammar." "Hey!" Lara protests, but there''s no real heat behind it. She seems almost proud of Maddy''s assessment. "Oh!" I perk up, the drugs making me more talkative than usual. "Before I met Caterina, I spent all my time reading yandere web novels." Lara looks genuinely surprised, her wild eyes widening as she glances between me and Caterina. A slow, knowing smile spreads across her face. "Nah, I can see that," she nods, looking at Caterina. Caterina''s expression is unreadable, but there''s a slight twitch at the corner of her perfect lips that might be amusement or irritation. It''s hard to tell. "What''s yours about?" I ask, genuinely curious now. Lara''s grin widens to borderline disturbing proportions. "It''s called ''I Level Up By Getting Abortions: That Time I Got Reincarnated in Another World and Was Given the ¡®Fetal Termination System,''" she announces with unhinged enthusiasm. The booth falls into stunned silence. Even the roar of the Formula 1 engines seems to dim for a moment. I blink slowly, trying to process what I''ve just heard through my drug-addled brain. "Excuse me, what?" I stare at Lara, certain I''ve misheard her through my drug haze. "You heard me," Lara says, her blue eyes gleaming with that special brand of crazy that makes her so terrifying. "It''s about a woman who discovers she can gain experience points and level up by getting abortions." Maddy groans loudly, covering her face with her hands. "For fuck''s sake, Lara, we''re at a professional event." I glance nervously at Caterina, expecting her to shut this down immediately, but to my surprise, she seems more curious than angry, one perfect eyebrow arched in what might be amusement. Caterina''s face transforms into a thundercloud, her crimson eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. She looks like she''s about to launch into a tirade that might very well end with Lara''s head on a pike. Her lips pull back in a snarl, revealing perfect teeth that suddenly seem more like fangs. I reach out instinctively, my gross ass hand touching her arm gently. "Cat," I whisper urgently, my eyes wide and pleading, "can you please let her explain? I kinda want to hear about this trainwreck." Caterina glances down at my hand on her arm, then back to my face. Something in my expression must amuse her because her fury seems to dial back from nuclear to merely volcanic. She gives a curt nod, settling back in her seat with lethal grace. "Fine," she says, her voice arctic. "Enlighten us with your literary masterpiece, Lara." Lara, utterly oblivious to how close she just came to death, beams at us with unhinged enthusiasm. "So the main character, Zoey, The princess of Isalora, discovers she can level up by terminating pregnancies," she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. "But here''s the genius part, the further along the pregnancy, the more experience points she gets!" My jaw drops slightly. I can''t help it. The drugs make it impossible to hide my horrified fascination. "Wait, so, like... third-trimester abortions give more XP?" I ask, immediately regretting the question. "Exactly!" Lara practically bounces in her seat, delighted someone understands her vision. "So there''s this whole moral dilemma where she has to decide whether to terminate early for less XP or wait longer for the bigger payoff!" Maddy makes a strangled noise that might be disgust or despair. "Jesus Christ, Lara, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Lara ignores her completely, her manic energy only building as she continues. "And then, in chapter twelve, she discovers that twins give a multiplier bonus, and using different methods creates different skill trees! Like surgical abortions improve her dexterity stats, while medication-induced ones boost her poison resistance!" Caterina''s expression has morphed from anger to something approaching morbid curiosity, like someone watching a car crash in slow motion. "And people... read this?" she asks, her voice carefully neutral. "Oh my god, yes!" Lara scrolls frantically through her iPad. "I''ve got over 200 readers! Some of them even make fan art of the coat hanger scene!" "Jesus fucking Christ," Caterina mutters, massaging her temples. She looks at me with those crimson eyes, suddenly soft with unexpected sympathy. "I''m sorry you had to hear something so gross, baby." I shrug. "It''s fine. I''ve heard worse." She shakes her head, her perfect blonde hair swaying with the movement. "Anyways," she says, clearly eager to change the subject, "for tonight''s dinner with the families, you''re not allowed to speak, okay? These women... our leader is very old school." I nod, accepting this new rule without question. "Okay." Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I''ll be with you the whole time so there''s nothing to worry about," she adds. "Okay," I repeat, leaning into her touch like a cat seeking affection. The roar of engines draws our attention back to the track just in time to see Valentina''s Ferrari crossing the finish line. The timing board flashes her position, P5. Caterina''s lips curve into a proud smile as she watches her cousin''s car complete its cool-down lap. Her hand finds mine, her fingers intertwining with my damaged ones with surprising gentleness. "She did well," Caterina murmurs, her thumb stroking over my scarred knuckles. "Better than expected." As the last cars complete their qualifying laps, Caterina stands, pulling me gently to my feet beside her. "Come," she says, her voice soft but commanding. "We need to get you ready for tonight." A/N: Lara: Her web novel: Chapter 58: Famiglia The limo¡¯s tinted windows make the Italian twilight look even darker than it actually is, casting the narrow Monza street in shadows that seem to crawl across the cobblestones. I stare at the restaurant, if you can even call it that. It¡¯s a weathered stone building wedged between two larger structures, with a faded sign hanging above a heavy wooden door. No windows, no menu posted outside, nothing to indicate it¡¯s even open for business. The kind of place that doesn¡¯t show up on any tourist maps. My collar feels tighter around my neck as I swallow nervously. Maddy sits across from us, her usually composed face betraying hints of tension. Beside her, Lara is taking deep, controlled breaths, her wild red hair pulled back into a tight bun that looks almost painful. ¡°In through the nose, out through the mouth,¡± Lara mutters to herself, her eyes closed in concentration. ¡°Don¡¯t stab anyone. Don¡¯t stab anyone. Don¡¯t stab anyone.¡± This mantra is not exactly reassuring. Caterina cups my face in her hands, her touch unexpectedly gentle. Her crimson eyes search mine, and I can see genuine concern flickering behind her predatory gaze. ¡°Remember, no words, okay?¡± she says softly, her thumbs stroking my cheeks. ¡°Not a single one, no matter what happens in there.¡± I nod, leaning into her touch. The idea of being completely silent doesn¡¯t bother me. In fact, it¡¯s almost a relief. I won¡¯t have to worry about saying the wrong thing if I don¡¯t say anything at all. Caterina¡¯s gaze shifts to Lara, her expression hardening slightly. ¡°You too,¡± she says, her voice taking on that edge of command that makes everyone sit up straighter. ¡°Not a word from you. I don¡¯t care if someone insults your mother, your writing, or your murder methods.¡± Lara rolls her eyes dramatically. ¡°I know, I know,¡± she sighs, sounding like a teenager being reminded of her curfew. ¡°No talking, no stabbing, no ¡®accidentally¡¯ poisoning anyone¡¯s wine.¡± Maddy shoots Lara a warning look that could freeze hell over but says nothing. The tension in the limo is thick enough to cut with a knife, which, given Lara¡¯s presence, might actually happen if things go sideways tonight. The driver pops out of the front seat with military precision, circling around to open our door. She¡¯s wearing a crisp black suit that practically screams, ¡°I¡¯m armed and know how to use it.¡± As the door swings open, the cool evening air hits my face, carrying the faint scent of garlic and wine from inside. Caterina steps out first, her white suit somehow luminous against the gathering darkness. She turns, extending her hand to help me out of the limo. My damaged fingers twitch as I place my hand in hers, grateful for the support as I unfold my body from the vehicle. ¡°Remember,¡± she whispers, her lips barely moving, ¡°you¡¯re mine. Stay close.¡± I nod, the collar around my neck feeling like a lifeline rather than a restriction. Maddy and Lara file out behind us, flanking us like well-dressed bodyguards as we approach the unmarked door. Before Caterina can even knock, the heavy wooden door swings open. A woman dressed in head-to-toe black stands in the threshold. She looks like she could be anywhere from fifty to a hundred years old, her eyes dark and unreadable as they scan our group. ¡°Ms. De Luca,¡± she says, her voice carrying the gravelly texture of decades of cigarettes. ¡°Right this way.¡± She steps aside, gesturing for us to enter with a hand that bears the tattoos and scars of a life I can¡¯t begin to imagine. The interior is nothing like I expected. Despite the nondescript exterior, the restaurant opens into a cavernous space with vaulted ceilings and stone arches that seem almost centuries old. The woman in black leads us through the main dining area, where a handful of tables sit empty and waiting, their white tablecloths gleaming in the candlelight. We continue toward a heavy velvet curtain at the back. She pulls it aside, revealing a private dining room dominated by a massive table crafted from a single slab of dark wood. Several women are already seated around the table, their conversations dying down as we enter. My eyes immediately lock onto Luna Cruz, her wild black hair and that ridiculous Hawaiian shirt standing out like a neon sign in a library. Beside her sits Tony, his shoulders hunched as if trying to make himself even smaller, his eyes fixed firmly on the empty plate in front of him. Next to Tony is an older woman I don¡¯t recognize. She has silver-streaked dark hair perfectly styled, and she¡¯s dressed in what has to be designer clothing that somehow manages to be both conservative and intimidating. Everything about her screams old money and older power. At the head of the table sits a tiny, elegant woman with long white hair. Despite her petite stature, there¡¯s something about her that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Her face is lined with age, but her eyes are sharp as razor blades, missing nothing as they scan our group. She must be the boss. Next to her is a younger woman with a practical bob haircut and calm brown eyes, watching us with analytical precision. There are a few other women scattered around the table, all exuding that particular blend of wealth and danger that seems to be a prerequisite for Caterina¡¯s social circle. I keep my mouth shut tight, remembering Caterina¡¯s warning. Not a single word. Caterina guides me to an empty chair, her hand never leaving the small of my back. I can feel the eyes of everyone at the table on me, assessing, judging, calculating my worth or threat level. ¡°Caterina,¡± the white-haired woman at the head of the table says, her voice surprisingly warm and grandmotherly despite the cold calculation in her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again.¡± ¡°Don Camilla Fontana,¡± Caterina replies, her tone respectful but not subservient. ¡°The pleasure is mine.¡± She helps me into my seat before taking her own, her movements graceful and controlled. I notice Luna watching us with undisguised interest, her green eyes lingering on my collar with a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought your... companion,¡± Camilla says, her gaze shifting to me with unsettling intensity. Caterina¡¯s hand finds mine under the table, her fingers intertwining around my damaged ones in a gesture that feels both possessive and reassuring. ¡°Yes,¡± she says simply. ¡°This is Adam.¡± I give a small nod of acknowledgment, careful not to open my mouth. The weight of a dozen predatory gazes makes my skin prickle with unease. ¡°We were just discussing the new marriage,¡± Camilla says, gesturing toward Tony and Luna with a delicate wave of her hand. ¡°Isabella¡¯s son has made quite the match with Mrs. Cruz.¡± Luna¡¯s smile stretches across her face, predatory yet somehow radiating false warmth. ¡°Happy to join the family,¡± she purrs, one hand possessively squeezing Tony¡¯s shoulder. He flinches almost imperceptibly at her touch, his eyes still fixed on his empty plate. The silver-haired woman, Isabella, I realize, nods with regal composure. ¡°Yes, Luna is a much better fit than...¡± she pauses deliberately, her cool gaze sliding toward Caterina, ¡°Tony¡¯s previous relationships.¡± The barb hangs in the air, its target obvious. I tense, expecting Caterina to react with that calculated violence I¡¯ve come to know so well. But her face remains perfectly neutral, her crimson eyes betraying nothing as she takes a sip of her wine. She doesn¡¯t seem to care at all about the reference to her failed marriage. Camilla¡¯s sharp eyes flick between Caterina and Isabella, clearly gauging the tension. Finding none, she smoothly changes course, turning to the woman beside her with the practical bob haircut. ¡°Lucia, show me the book again,¡± she says, extending her hand expectantly. The woman next to Camilla reaches into a sleek portfolio beside her chair and produces a leather-bound notebook. She passes it to Camilla with efficient movements, her expression remaining professionally blank. Camilla retrieves a pair of reading glasses from her breast pocket, perching them delicately on her nose as she flips through the notebook¡¯s pages. Her aged fingers trace over columns of numbers with practiced precision. ¡°Very good growth this year, Caterina,¡± she says, looking up from the notebook with something like approval in her ancient eyes. Caterina inclines her head slightly, accepting the praise with practiced humility. ¡°Thank you, Don Fontana. The casino has been particularly profitable since we expanded the high-limit rooms.¡± I sit perfectly still, trying to make myself as invisible as possible while still maintaining good posture. Isabella sets down her wine glass with a delicate clink, her nails tapping thoughtfully against the stem. ¡°While we¡¯re discussing growth,¡± she interjects. ¡°I must say that Caterina has shown remarkable... maturation in her business approaches.¡± The slight pause before ¡°maturation¡± hangs in the air like a backhanded compliment. ¡°In fact,¡± Isabella continues, her green eyes gleaming with something that isn¡¯t quite sincerity, ¡°the Moretti family believes that with our resources and Luna¡¯s extensive distribution networks throughout South America, we could help Caterina access markets she¡¯s previously been unable to penetrate.¡± Luna¡¯s lips curve into that unnervingly cheerful smile as she leans forward, the gaudy Hawaiian shirt somehow making her look more dangerous, not less. ¡°Si, si,¡± she agrees, her fingers still digging into Tony¡¯s shoulder. ¡°My contacts extend all the way from Mexico to Colombia. Very useful for moving all sorts of products.¡± Caterina¡¯s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around mine under the table. Her face remains a perfect mask of polite interest, but I can feel the tension radiating from her body. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°How generous,¡± Caterina replies, her voice dripping with honey-coated venom. ¡°But I¡¯m quite satisfied with my current market reach.¡± Isabella¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t falter, but something cold flashes in her eyes. ¡°Of course you are, dear. I merely thought with your... limited resources, you might appreciate some assistance.¡± Camilla lets out a small huff, her ancient fingers continuing to turn pages in the leather-bound ledger. Her reading glasses slip slightly down her nose as she reviews the numbers with methodical precision. ¡°Isabella,¡± she says finally, her grandmotherly voice carrying surprising authority, ¡°this has been your most impressive fiscal year... well, ever.¡± She looks up, her razor-sharp eyes fixing on Isabella over the rim of her glasses. ¡°However, let¡¯s not forget you spent half a decade hemorrhaging money while Caterina managed to reverse her mother¡¯s catastrophic failures in less than half that time.¡± Isabella¡¯s perfectly composed face tightens almost imperceptibly. Beside her, Luna shifts in her seat, that perpetual smile faltering for a split second. ¡°The ongoing friction between your families is tiresome,¡± Camilla continues, closing the ledger with finality. ¡°I see absolutely no reason to disrupt our current arrangements.¡± Isabella¡¯s expression hardens, her knuckles whitening around her wine glass. ¡°Don Fontana, please, if you¡¯d just reconsider. She¡¯s squandering potential that could benefit us all.¡± ¡°The matter is closed, Isabella,¡± Camilla interrupts, her voice soft but carrying the unmistakable finality of someone unaccustomed to being challenged. She removes her reading glasses, folding them with deliberate care. ¡°This discussion is over.¡± Isabella¡¯s jade-green eyes narrow to venomous slits as she stares across the table at Caterina. The hatred radiating off her is so palpable I swear I can feel it like heat waves across the table. Caterina doesn¡¯t even glance in Isabella¡¯s direction. She simply takes another sip of her wine, crimson eyes focused on Camilla with practiced deference, as if Isabella¡¯s silent rage is too insignificant to acknowledge. Her hand remains steady around mine under the table, neither tightening nor relaxing. What really throws me off is Luna. She¡¯s leaned back in her chair, that eerie smile fixed on her face like it¡¯s been painted there. There¡¯s no disappointment in her posture, no tension in her shoulders, just that same unsettling cheerfulness that somehow feels more dangerous than Isabella¡¯s open hostility. She catches me watching her and winks, her green eyes gleaming with what looks almost like satisfaction. ¡®What the fuck does that even mean?¡¯ Chapter 59: Droste Effect The night air in Monza whispers through our open hotel window, carrying the distant sounds of excitement for tomorrow. I¡¯m sprawled across the massive king-sized bed, still dressed in the fancy clothes Caterina picked out for dinner. Caterina paces the length of the suite, her phone pressed to her ear as she speaks rapid-fire Italian into the receiver. Even without understanding the words, I can tell from the edge in her voice that she¡¯s not happy. Her crimson eyes flash dangerously as she gestures with her free hand, her perfect blonde hair slightly disheveled from running her fingers through it in frustration. ¡°No, absolutely not,¡± she snaps in English, switching languages mid-conversation. ¡°The McLaren cars need to develop transmission issues by lap thirty. Not before, not after.¡± I should probably be more concerned about whatever it is she¡¯s doing, but honestly, I¡¯m too busy mourning the fact that we¡¯re not having sex right now. It¡¯s well past midnight, and by this time, we¡¯d usually be tangled in the sheets, her mouth hot against my skin, her hands expertly manipulating my body into a quivering mess. Instead, I¡¯m watching her walk back and forth while Lara lounges on the living room couch of our massive suite, her wild red hair loose around her shoulders as she taps away at her iPad. Probably writing more of her abortion novel or whatever the hell that was. Maddy sits primly in an armchair by the window, her posture perfect even at this late hour, hands folded in her lap as she waits for instructions. ¡®Why are they even here?¡¯ I wonder, fidgeting with the edge of the comforter. ¡®It¡¯s not like Cat needs bodyguards in our own hotel room.¡¯ Caterina barks something else in Italian, her voice carrying that dangerous silk quality that usually makes my heart race. Tonight, though, it just makes me sigh. I¡¯m tired, the drugs she gave me earlier are wearing off, and without the chemical buffer, my hands are starting to ache. I push myself up from the bed with a wince, my hands protesting the movement. While carefully avoiding getting in Caterina¡¯s way, I shuffle into the living room area of our suite. Lara barely glances up as I approach the couch. I lower myself onto the cushions, leaving a good three feet of space between us. The leather creaks beneath my weight as I settle in, my damaged hands resting awkwardly in my lap. ¡°Why are you still up?¡± Lara asks, not bothering to look away from her iPad. Her fingers continue tapping away at the screen, the blue light illuminating her face in the dimly lit room. I shrug, then realize she isn¡¯t looking at me. ¡°I don¡¯t want to sleep without Cat,¡± I admit, my voice quiet enough that Caterina won¡¯t hear it over her angry Italian. Lara¡¯s typing pauses. She glances at me, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. ¡°Boss trained you well, didn¡¯t she?¡± She says with approval in her tone. I don¡¯t respond to that. Instead, my eyes drift down to her iPad screen. The document she¡¯s working on has a title at the top: ¡°Preg Killer.¡± ¡°New chapter?¡± I sigh, not really interested but desperately needing something to distract me from the ache in my hands. Lara¡¯s face lights up, her blue eyes gleaming with manic enthusiasm. ¡°Nope. Brand new story!¡± She practically vibrates with excitement. ¡°People told me I needed therapy after that last chapter, so I decided to make a story called ¡®Chosen by the Maternity Exterminator System: I Level Up Every Time I Slay a Pregnant Woman and Become the World¡¯s Most Fearsome Executioner.¡¯¡± She beams at me like she¡¯s just announced she¡¯s cured cancer, waiting for my reaction. I let out a long, exhausted sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t you feel like you¡¯re just pushing the joke way past the point where it¡¯s interesting? Like, why stop there? At this point, you¡¯re weirdly hung up on pregnancy, but you could go so much further.¡± Lara¡¯s manic smile falters slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°I mean, there are worse things than killing pregnant women, you know?¡± Her eyes narrow, annoyance flashing across her face. ¡°Like what?¡± she challenges, iPad now forgotten in her lap. ¡°I don¡¯t know... maybe a character who levels up by curing cancer patients and then killing them? Or someone who gets stronger by convincing people to commit suicide?¡± I suggest, the ideas flowing like cheap wine. ¡°Or why not a teenager with a school shooting system?¡± Lara¡¯s face scrunches up in confusion. ¡°School shooting? What the fuck is that?¡± ¡°You know, like Columbine,¡± I say, confused about how she wouldn¡¯t remember. ¡°What¡¯s Columbine?¡± she asks, her head tilted like a confused puppy. I stare at her, blinking slowly as my brain tries to process what¡¯s happening. ¡°Wait, you seriously don¡¯t know? Kids don¡¯t take guns to school and shoot their classmates here?¡± Lara bursts into laughter, throwing her head back so hard her wild red hair bounces. ¡°What the fuck? No!¡± she wheezes between gasps. ¡°Jesus Christ, Adam, that¡¯s the most fucked up thing I¡¯ve ever heard! And I write abortion power fantasy novels!¡± I feel my face heating up, but I just shrug. It¡¯s starting to sink in that I¡¯m from a very different world than this one. COVID didn¡¯t exist here, and apparently, school shootings don¡¯t either. ¡°Well, then maybe you should do that kind of story,¡± I suggest, doubling down despite the warning bells going off in my head. ¡°A woman who gets perks for shooting up school kids.¡± ¡°Adam, what the fuck?¡± Maddy¡¯s voice cuts through the silence. She¡¯s staring at me like like a disappointed mother, her usual composure completely shattered. I furrow my brow, suddenly realizing the depth of my depravity. The drugs must be wearing off more than I thought, leaving me raw and unfiltered in the worst possible way. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I mumble, shrinking into the couch cushions. Lara¡¯s eyes widen, but instead of being offended, a slow, maniacal grin spreads across her face. She puts down her iPad and leans forward, suddenly intensely focused. ¡°Wait, wait, wait,¡± she says, tapping her finger against her chin. ¡°You might actually be onto something there, Adam. School shooting, huh?¡± She narrows her eyes, staring at the ceiling like she¡¯s watching her thoughts materialize in the air above her. ¡°Hmmmm, what would the title be, though?¡± she muses, her voice taking on that special unhinged quality that makes my skin crawl. ¡°How about: ¡®My Secret Weapon is a School Shooting System: I Was Bullied in High School So I Got Transported to Another World Where I Level Up By Massacring Classrooms¡¯?¡± I sigh, shaking my head. ¡°I know it was my idea, but that just feels like a shock value rehash of the abortion thing. You¡¯re just swapping fetuses for school kids. Is there any actual substance to your stories, or is it all just trying to be edgy?¡± Lara blinks at me, clearly caught off guard by my criticism. Her manic energy dims slightly as she cocks her head to one side. ¡°Substance? My stories?¡± she asks as if I¡¯ve wounded her. ¡°That¡¯s like asking if Asuka is a Chargers fan?¡± ¡®That¡¯s like asking if a bear shits in the woods.¡¯ I nod in understanding. ¡°Bolt up.¡± [A/N: I am not a Chargers fan.] Caterina finally ends her call with an angry ¡°Ciao!¡± before slamming her phone down on the marble countertop. Her crimson eyes land on me, narrowing slightly as she takes in my disheveled appearance. ¡°Baby,¡± she sighs, her voice softening despite the tension evident in her shoulders. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a long night for me. Why don¡¯t I give you your meds and tuck you in?¡± I shake my head, pushing myself up from the couch with my wrists. ¡°I want to stay up with you.¡± Caterina¡¯s perfect lips curve downward into a frown. ¡°Adam, I think you¡¯ll be more of a distraction for me than not.¡± ¡°No, I¡¯ll be quiet,¡± I promise, taking a step toward her. ¡°I just... I don¡¯t want to sleep alone.¡± Her crimson eyes drift downward, lingering on the obvious bulge in my expensive pants. The corner of her mouth twitches, somewhere between amusement and frustration. ¡°I can only resist for so long,¡± she says, her voice dropping to that register that makes my spine tingle. ¡°But I really need to get work done tonight. The race tomorrow is... complicated.¡± I can see her point. My brain¡¯s so fixated on the thought of Cat¡¯s lips on mine, her hands exploring my body, that I¡¯m practically vibrating with need. Just watching her pace around the room in that perfectly tailored suit makes my mouth water. If I was trying to work, she¡¯d definitely be a problem. ¡°Yeah, I get it,¡± I sigh, trying to hide my disappointment. ¡°Come on, baby,¡± she says, her voice gentle as she crosses the room to me. She takes my arm, guiding me back to the bedroom with that possessive touch I adore. ¡°Let¡¯s get you comfortable.¡± She plants me on the edge of the bed, her hands lingering on my shoulders. I watch as she reaches for the pill bottle on the nightstand, shaking a few into her palm. As Caterina places the pills on her tongue, her crimson eyes locked with mine. She leans in, her perfect lips pressing against mine as she transfers the pills into my mouth through a deep, intimate kiss. Her tongue slides against mine, making sure the pills make their way down my throat. I sigh contentedly as she pulls away, already feeling the warm tendrils of chemical bliss starting to uncurl in my bloodstream. These pill kisses are my favorite ritual, the sweet communion between us that sends me floating away on clouds of euphoria. ¡°You¡¯re so beautiful when you¡¯re drugged,¡± she murmurs, her fingers already working at the buttons of my shirt. Her hand strips away each layer until I¡¯m sitting there in just my underwear. She pauses, her crimson eyes drinking me in like I¡¯m a fine wine she¡¯s savoring. ¡°Pajamas or naked tonight?¡± she asks, her voice a silky purr that makes my skin tingle despite my growing drowsiness. I look up at her through increasingly heavy eyelids. ¡°If I sleep naked, is there... you know... a chance we might..?¡± Caterina tilts her head, considering the question with theatrical seriousness. Her perfect lips curve into that predatory smile I¡¯ve grown to crave. ¡°Hmm,¡± she muses, tapping one finger against her chin. ¡°It really depends on how late I stay up dealing with this mess on the phone.¡± I nod, the movement feeling exaggerated and dreamlike as the drugs take stronger hold. ¡°Naked, then,¡± I decide, my voice thick. ¡°Just in case.¡± Her smile widens, revealing those perfect teeth as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of my underwear and slides them down my legs. Her crimson eyes roam over my exposed body with unabashed hunger, making me feel both vulnerable and cherished. ¡°So perfect,¡± she whispers, helping me under the covers with tender care. She tucks the blankets around me, her movements precise and loving. Leaning down, she presses her lips against mine in a kiss that¡¯s gentle compared to our usual passionate exchanges. It¡¯s almost chaste but somehow more intimate for its simplicity. ¡°Goodnight, sweet prince, I love you.¡± She whispers against my lips. I feel myself melting into the mattress, her words wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The drugs are hitting full force now, making everything soft and dreamlike. I watch through half-lidded eyes as she straightens up, her silhouette backlit by the bedside lamp, creating a halo effect around her golden hair. ¡°Goodnight, Cat, I love you too.¡± I manage to murmur before the darkness claims me completely. A/N: Book Covers: Chapter 60: Baking Soda, I Got Baking Soda I wake up to the shrill beeping of Caterina¡¯s phone alarm, the sound cutting through my drug-induced stupor like a chainsaw through butter. Sunlight floods the hotel room, indicating it¡¯s already well into the day. I blink, trying to orient myself in time and space as I roll over to see the digital clock on the nightstand. ¡°Noon already?¡± I mumble, stretching luxuriously. My body feels surprisingly good, well-rested, and relaxed in a way that only comes from sleeping for a long time. I turn to look at Caterina, and my breath catches in my throat. She¡¯s sprawled beside me, in a bathrobe, her perfect blonde hair tangled around her face. There are deep shadows under her crimson eyes, which are barely open as she squints at her still-blaring phone. She looks like a sexy zombie. ¡°Cat?¡± I whisper, reaching out with my damaged hand to touch her arm. She grunts, finally managing to silence the alarm with a clumsy swipe. ¡°Morning,¡± she croaks, her voice rough with exhaustion. I prop myself up on my elbow, studying her with growing concern. Her usually flawless skin is pale, making the dark circles under her eyes stand out even more starkly. ¡°Good morning,¡± I say, trying to inject warmth into my voice despite my concern. ¡°You look... tired.¡± Caterina lets out a humorless laugh that turns into a yawn halfway through. ¡°Mmm, that¡¯s certainly a way of putting it.¡± I scoot closer, careful not to jostle her too much. ¡°What time did you actually go to bed?¡± I ask, my voice gentle. She drapes an arm over her eyes, blocking out the sunlight. ¡°Nine AM,¡± she mumbles. ¡°Stupid fucking phone calls. ¡°Nine AM?¡± I gasp, my jaw dropping open. ¡°Cat, that¡¯s only three hours of sleep!¡± I wish I could pull her into a proper hug, but my useless fingers just twitch pathetically as I try to wrap my arms around her. Instead, I scoot closer, pressing my body against hers in a clumsy attempt at comfort. ¡°Cat, that¡¯s not good,¡± I say gently, genuine concern washing over me. ¡°You need more rest.¡± She sighs deeply, pushing herself up to a sitting position. Her bathrobe slips slightly, revealing the curve of her shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a cocaine kind of day,¡± she mutters, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. ¡°Ohhhh,¡± I breathe, the memory suddenly flooding back to me. Our first night together. The night she gave me a black eye. She later said she was high that night. ¡°Uhhh,¡± I stammer, suddenly nervous. Cocaine Caterina is unpredictable Caterina, and unpredictable Caterina is dangerous Caterina. She turns to look at me, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asks, her voice sharpening despite her exhaustion. ¡°Nothing,¡± I say quickly, trying to keep my expression neutral. ¡°Just... you know... worried about you.¡± Caterina shifts, her bathrobe falling open as she reaches for something on the nightstand. My eyes immediately lock onto her exposed chest, the perfect curves of her breasts catching the morning light. I can¡¯t look away, even though I know I should be more concerned about her exhaustion. ¡°Adam,¡± she says, her voice filled with tiredness, ¡°why don¡¯t you join me for a line or two? Might make the day more... interesting.¡± I barely register her words, still mesmerized by the sight of her perfect breasts just inches from my face. ¡°Huh? Yeah, sure, whatever you want,¡± I mumble absently. One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches upward as she follows my gaze. She lets out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head slightly. ¡°You and your weird obsession with my chest,¡± she says, amusement coloring her tired voice. ¡°I swear, you¡¯re the only man who gets this excited about tits.¡± Before I can defend myself, she reaches out and gently guides my head forward, pressing my face against the warm softness of her chest. ¡°Go ahead, baby,¡± she purrs, fingers threading through my hair. ¡°I know what you need.¡± I don¡¯t hesitate, my lips finding her nipple as I close my eyes in bliss. She tastes like expensive soap and something uniquely Caterina. I hear her soft hum of approval as she cradles my head against her. ¡°That¡¯s my good boy,¡± she whispers, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she strokes my hair. I lose myself in the sensation, comfort, and intimacy of being this close to her. ¡°Look at my baby sucking so hard,¡± she whispers, her voice husky with amusement. Her hand slides down to my waist, squeezing my cock. I groan against her skin, feeling myself harden under her touch. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Mommy was so busy last night,¡± she purrs, her breath warm against my ear. ¡°Let me make it up to you.¡± The mention of Mommy sends a jolt through me, and I feel myself twitch in her grip. She laughs softly, the sound vibrating through her chest. ¡°Ahh fuck,¡± she mutters, reaching for the side table with one hand while the other keeps a firm hold on my cock. She grabs a handful of pills. ¡°Baby, before you keep going, take these so you don¡¯t start falling into withdrawal.¡± She places the pills on her nipple with a wicked smile. ¡°Lick them off, baby.¡± I don¡¯t hesitate, my tongue darting out to retrieve the pills as she guides my head back with gentle force. I swallow them quickly before returning to lavish attention on her breast. Her fingers tighten in my hair as I work my mouth against her skin with renewed enthusiasm. Caterina¡¯s hand moves faster between my legs, her strokes becoming more insistent as I continue worshipping her breast. I can¡¯t help the pathetic whimpers escaping me while I lick and suck, desperate for more. ¡°We¡¯re running late,¡± she murmurs against my hair, her voice breathy with desire despite her exhaustion. ¡°Need to make this quick, baby.¡± Taking her cue, I suck harder, drawing her nipple deeper into my mouth as her hand works me with expert precision. She knows exactly how to touch me, how much pressure to apply, how fast to move. ¡°Fuck,¡± she gasps, her rhythm faltering for just a moment as pleasure ripples through her. She moans, the sound vibrating through her chest and straight into my core. Her lips brush my ear, her breath hot against my skin as she whispers, ¡°Cum for Mommy.¡± Those three words shatter me completely. My orgasm hits with shocking intensity, my body convulsing as I shoot thick ropes of cum across the hotel sheets. The first streak flies so far it actually clears the edge of the bed, landing on the pristine hotel carpet. Caterina¡¯s tired eyes widen in genuine surprise, a delighted laugh bubbling up from her chest. ¡°Wow,¡± she breathes, staring at the evidence of my pleasure. ¡°That was quite a shot, Adam. I¡¯m impressed.¡± I collapse against her, breathless and boneless with satisfaction. My head rests on her shoulder as I struggle to regain my composure, my damaged hands twitching uselessly at my sides. ¡°Fuck, Cat,¡± I gasp, nuzzling into her neck. She laughs again, the sound lighter now, some of her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Her arms wrap around me, holding me close as my breathing gradually slows. ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way to start the day,¡± she says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ¡°Now, we really need to get moving. The race starts in three hours.¡± ¡°Five more minutes.¡± ***** I¡¯m standing in front of the mirror, admiring how sharp I look in the white suit Caterina picked out for me. It matches hers perfectly, the crisp fabric contrasting with the black leather collar snug around my neck. The collar¡¯s small silver tag catches the light when I turn my head, a constant reminder of who I belong to. ¡®Wait¡­ Is it weird to wear matching clothes with your partner? I guess it doesn¡¯t matter.¡¯ ¡°Ready, baby?¡± Caterina calls from the other side of the bedroom door. ¡°Yeah, coming,¡± I reply, taking one last look at myself before turning away from the mirror. I exit the bedroom to find Caterina waiting for me, her crimson eyes lighting up as she takes me in. She looks spectacular in her white suit, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Despite her exhaustion earlier, she¡¯s somehow transformed herself back into the picture of perfection. ¡°You look absolutely edible,¡± she purrs, reaching out to adjust my collar with possessive precision. I smile, leaning into her touch. ¡°Thanks to you.¡± Caterina takes my arm, guiding me into the living room of our hotel suite, where Maddy and Lara are waiting. They both look tired but freshly showered. ¡°Lara,¡± Caterina says, her voice carrying that edge of command that makes everyone snap to attention, ¡°do you have my coke?¡± Lara¡¯s brow furrows as she pats her pockets, looking momentarily confused. ¡°No... wait, yes,¡± she corrects herself, reaching into her jacket to pull out a small baggie of white powder. ¡°Sorry, I forgot I had it.¡± Caterina doesn¡¯t seem bothered by the momentary lapse, taking the baggie from Lara with casual indifference. ¡°Thank you.¡± S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She turns to me with a predatory smile, holding up the baggie between two perfectly manicured fingers. ¡°Baby, come here. I¡¯ll show you how to do it.¡± My stomach tightens with sudden nervousness. I¡¯ve never done cocaine before. But the thought of disappointing her is far worse than trying something new. I glance at her chest, remembering this morning¡¯s intimacy and a ridiculous idea pops into my head. ¡°Can I do it off your tit?¡± Caterina laughs. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll let you do that later when we¡¯re alone, baby.¡± Her crimson eyes flash with promise. Maddy clears her throat, her professional demeanor never faltering. ¡°Boss, I don¡¯t think Adam should have cocaine.¡± Caterina¡¯s head snaps toward Maddy, her playful expression hardening. ¡°He¡¯s my lover, Maddy. If I want him to have some, he can have some.¡± ¡°No, boss,¡± Maddy says firmly, standing her ground. ¡°It will interact badly with his medication. The combination could be dangerous.¡± ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± Caterina mutters, realization dawning on her perfect features. ¡°Another time, Adam. I promise.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± I say, not really upset. She turns to the coffee table, bending down to expertly rack up two lines. With practiced efficiency, she snorts them both in quick succession. When she straightens up, her crimson eyes are already sharper, more alert. The exhaustion that plagued her just moments ago seems to have evaporated. She wraps her arm possessively around my waist, pulling me tight against her side. ¡°Alright, come on,¡± she says, suddenly buzzing with energy. ¡°We¡¯ve got a race to watch.¡± Morning Caterina be like: Chapter 61: Senna The Monza paddock is a whole different world. Everywhere I look, there¡¯s a blur of activity, pristine white uniforms with splashes of Ferrari red, McLaren orange, Mercedes silver. The air smells like burning rubber, expensive cologne, and money, lots of it. Mechanics dart around like worker ants, their movements precise and urgent as they make final adjustments to the sleek machines that probably cost more than I can fathom. I¡¯m trying to act natural, but it¡¯s hard when you¡¯re wearing a leather collar in public and your lover is visibly high on cocaine. Caterina hasn¡¯t stopped talking since we left the hotel. Her words come out in rapid-fire bursts, her crimson eyes darting around the paddock with predatory intensity. One moment she¡¯s explaining the aerodynamic principles of the Ferrari front wing, the next she¡¯s pointing out some billionaire who¡¯s just handing around. ¡°Adam, did you know that the Ferrari engine produces over 1000 horsepower? A thousand! Can you imagine? That¡¯s like fifteen normal cars put together. I once drove one of these, you know. Not in a race, obviously, but Valentina let me take it around the track at Fiorano. Hit 250 kilometers per hour on the straight. That¡¯s, what, like 150 miles?¡± She doesn¡¯t wait for my answer before launching into a detailed history of Formula 1 engine regulations. I nod along, my brain struggling to keep up with her manic energy. The drugs she gave me this morning have me feeling floaty and calm, which is probably for the best, given how overstimulating everything is. The contrast between my chemical tranquility and her cocaine-fueled hyperactivity is almost comical. ¡°Cat,¡± I murmur when she finally pauses for breath, ¡°maybe slow down a little?¡± She looks at me with those wide, dilated pupils, her perfect lips quirking into a smile that¡¯s just a touch too sharp. ¡°Am I talking too much? I¡¯m talking too much, aren¡¯t I?¡± She doesn¡¯t slow down at all. ¡°It¡¯s just that there¡¯s so much happening today. So many moving parts. Everything needs to be perfect.¡± S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. There¡¯s something in her tone, an undercurrent of intensity that goes beyond normal race-day excitement. I tilt my head, studying her with mild concern. ¡°Is something special about this race?¡± I ask, genuinely curious. Caterina¡¯s smile widens, showing too many teeth. ¡°Every race is special when family is competing,¡± she says, but there¡¯s a glint in her eye that makes me wonder if there¡¯s more to it. Before I can press further, a tall figure in Ferrari red approaches us. Valentina, looking every inch the professional racer in her team uniform, her short blonde hair perfectly styled despite the humidity. Her crimson eyes, so like Caterina¡¯s, flash with determination as she approaches us. ¡°Cat,¡± she says, her Italian accent more pronounced than yesterday. ¡°Good to see you made it to the grid.¡± Caterina¡¯s arm tightens around my waist, her cocaine-fueled energy momentarily focused entirely on her cousin. ¡°Val! How are you feeling?¡± Caterina asks, her words coming out just a bit too fast. ¡°Ready to show these bitches who¡¯s boss?¡± Valentina¡¯s shoulders slump slightly, her crimson eyes darkening with frustration. ¡°I feel as good as I can with a losing car,¡± she sighs, running a hand through her short blonde hair. ¡°Verstappen is about a full second ahead of us per lap in qualifying. It might as well be an eternity.¡± I watch Caterina¡¯s face carefully, noticing how her expression doesn¡¯t register surprise or disappointment. Instead, there¡¯s something calculating in her eyes, like she¡¯s mentally checking off a box on some invisible list. ¡°Just do your best,¡± Caterina says with a shrug, her tone surprisingly casual, given Valentina¡¯s obvious distress. ¡°That¡¯s all anyone can ask.¡± Valentina¡¯s expression shifts, her initial frustration giving way to a smug smile that transforms her entire face. She stands straighter, her crimson eyes gleaming with sudden confidence. ¡°Oh, I always do my best,¡± she says with an arrogant smile. Caterina¡¯s smile widens to match her cousin¡¯s, but there¡¯s a tightness around her eyes that wasn¡¯t there before. ¡°Well, that¡¯s what separates champions from the rest, isn¡¯t it? That extra something special.¡± Valentina nods, then glances at her watch. ¡°I should get back to the garage. Final strategy meeting before the formation lap.¡± As she turns to leave, she catches my eye and gives me a small nod of acknowledgment. ¡°Nice to see you again, Adam.¡± ¡°Good luck,¡± I call after her, not sure what else to say. Caterina pulls me quickly. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s head to our seats.¡± ***** We¡¯re sitting in a fancy private booth overlooking the Monza track, over looking the starting line. TVs line the walls to cover the parts of the track we can¡¯t see directly, each one showing a different camera angle. Caterina hasn¡¯t stopped fidgeting since we sat down. Her knee bounces, her fingers drum against the armrest, and her crimson eyes dart between the screens with manic intensity. The cocaine¡¯s got her wired tight, like a spring about to launch across the room. ¡°This is going to be amazing,¡± she says for maybe the tenth time in as many minutes, her words tumbling out in a rush. ¡°Valentina¡¯s going to win today. I can feel it in my bones.¡± I shoot her a confused look. Didn¡¯t Valentina just tell us her car was shit? Like, literally an hour ago? ¡°I thought she had no chance,¡± I point out, shifting in my seat to get comfortable. The leather collar feels heavier around my neck in public, even though nobody else seems to care. Caterina waves dismissively, her movements too sharp, too jerky. ¡°Anything can happen in Formula 1, Adam. Anything. Rain, crashes, safety cars, mechanical failures. That¡¯s the beauty of it.¡± Maddy and Lara sit off to the side, both looking professionally bored. Lara¡¯s typing on her iPad again. Maddy¡¯s eyes keep flicking to Caterina with subtle concern like she¡¯s monitoring a bomb¡¯s countdown timer. ¡°Five minutes till take off,¡± Caterina announces, checking her watch with exaggerated precision. She stands up suddenly, pacing in front of the massive window. ¡°They should be getting into position now. Valentina¡¯s starting P5, which isn¡¯t ideal, but it¡¯s workable. The McLarens are P2 and P3, but they won¡¯t be a problem.¡± She smiles to herself, a private joke I¡¯m not privy to. The door to our private box swings open without warning. Isabella Moretti glides in like she owns the place, her silver-streaked dark hair perfectly styled, her designer outfit screaming old money. Behind her, Tony shuffles in, hunched and small in his expensive suit, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Caterina freezes mid-pace, her cocaine-fueled energy momentarily redirected into what looks like pure annoyance. ¡°Isabella,¡± she says, her voice dripping with false warmth. ¡°What an unexpected surprise.¡± Isabella smooths her expensive skirt and offers a razor-thin smile. ¡°Well, we figured since we¡¯re already here,¡± she says with practiced Southern charm that barely masks her venom, ¡°we might as well join you, fine folks. The view from this box is unparalleled.¡± Caterina¡¯s cocaine-enhanced smile stretches unnaturally wide. ¡°True enough,¡± she replies, her crimson eyes flashing with something that looks suspiciously like anticipation rather than annoyance. Isabella and Tony settle into seats on the opposite side of the box from us. Tony keeps his eyes downcast, shoulders hunched like he¡¯s trying to disappear into the expensive upholstery. Isabella, meanwhile, sits with perfect posture, her jade-green eyes scanning the room with calculated precision. ¡®I wonder where Luna is?¡¯ The atmosphere in the box crackles with tension as the cars line up on the starting grid. Caterina¡¯s leg bounces faster, her fingers drumming an erratic rhythm against her thigh. She leans forward in her seat, crimson eyes locked on the starting lights. ¡°And they¡¯re off!¡± the announcer¡¯s voice booms through the speakers as the five red lights go out. Except they¡¯re not all off. P1 Maxine Verstappen¡¯s car sits completely motionless on the grid while the rest of the field screams past her. The championship leader¡¯s Red Bull hasn¡¯t moved an inch, smoke beginning to curl from beneath the engine cover. Caterina erupts into peals of laughter, slapping her thigh with undisguised glee. ¡°Would you look at that!¡± she crows, her voice pitched higher than normal. ¡°The mighty Verstappen can¡¯t even make it off the starting line!¡± Isabella¡¯s head snaps toward Caterina, her jade eyes narrowing to suspicious slits. ¡°My, my,¡± she drawls, ¡°aren¡¯t we enthusiastic about another driver¡¯s misfortune?¡± Caterina doesn¡¯t even try to tone down her manic energy, still giggling as she watches Verstappen¡¯s team frantically gesturing from the pit wall. ¡°It¡¯s racing, Isabella. Mechanical failures happen.¡± She turns to me, her dilated pupils making her crimson eyes look almost black. ¡°Adam, baby, this is perfect! With Verstappen out, Valentina has a real shot at the podium!¡± I nod, not entirely sure what to say. ¡°The McLarens are pulling ahead,¡± Isabella observes coolly, her gaze shifting back to the track. ¡°Your cousin has quite the challenge ahead of her.¡± Caterina¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t falter. ¡°Just wait,¡± she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant only for me. ¡°This race is going to be very interesting.¡± ***** The race has entered lap 49 of 53, and I¡¯m barely hanging on to my composure. It¡¯s not the thundering engines or screaming crowd that¡¯s got me squirming in my seat. It¡¯s Caterina¡¯s hand. She¡¯s been rubbing my inner thigh for the past ten minutes, her fingers inching higher with each caress while her crimson eyes remain laser-focused on the track. ¡°You like that, baby?¡± she whispers without looking at me, her words slightly slurred around the edges. She¡¯s been disappearing to the bathroom every thirty minutes or so, coming back each time with wider pupils and more manic energy. ¡°Cat,¡± I whimper, trying to keep my voice down with Isabella just across the booth. ¡°You¡¯re making it hard to concentrate.¡± Her lips curve into that predatory smile I¡¯ve grown to crave. ¡°Good,¡± she purrs, her hand squeezing harder. I glance nervously toward Isabella, but she¡¯s fixated on the race, her jade-green eyes tracking the cars with calculated precision. Tony sits beside her, shoulders still hunched, gaze firmly on his shoes. ¡°Holy shit!¡± Lara suddenly shouts, jumping to her feet and pointing at the massive screen. We all whip our heads toward the display just in time to see P2 Piastri¡¯s orange McLaren slam into the side of P1 Norris at the first chicane. The impact sends both cars careening off the track and onto the grass in a shower of carbon fiber and rubber. Isabella seems unsurprised. Caterina, meanwhile, erupts into unhinged laughter, clapping her hands together like a child at a birthday party. ¡°Oh my GOD! Did you SEE that?¡± she screeches, her pupils so dilated her eyes look almost black. ¡°Both McLarens out! This is fucking PERFECT!¡± Isabella arches one perfectly plucked eyebrow, her jade eyes glittering with suspicion. ¡°My, my,¡± she drawls, her Southern accent thickening with sarcasm. ¡°It¡¯s almost like that crash was foretold in the stars. Quite the fortunate turn of events for your dear cousin.¡± Caterina doesn¡¯t even try to hide her smugness, cocaine confidence radiating from her in waves. She leans back in her seat, crimson eyes dancing with barely contained glee. ¡°What exactly are you implying, Isabella?¡± she purrs, her fingers still tracing lazy circles on my thigh. ¡°That I somehow fixed a Formula 1 race? That¡¯s quite the accusation.¡± Isabella¡¯s lips curl into a thin smile as she examines her manicure with exaggerated interest. ¡°I¡¯m not implying anything, dear. It¡¯s no skin off my back what happens here today.¡± She shrugs elegantly. ¡°Just making an observation about coincidences.¡± The tension between them crackles like static electricity, but Isabella¡¯s attention drifts back to the race with practiced indifference. With the McLarens out and Verstappen never even starting, the rest of the race feels almost anticlimactic. Valentina¡¯s red Ferrari dominates the track, maintaining a steady half-second lead over her closest competitor. The commentators can barely contain their excitement over the Italian driver potentially winning on home soil. I try to focus on the race, but Caterina¡¯s hand has migrated dangerously upward. Her fingers are now brazenly rubbing my cock through my expensive pants, her movements hidden from the others only by the angle of our seats and my strategically placed jacket. ¡°Cat,¡± I whisper urgently, my face burning. ¡°People might see.¡± She doesn¡¯t stop. If anything, her touch becomes more deliberate, her crimson eyes still fixed on the track while a knowing smile plays on her perfect lips. ¡°Let them,¡± she whispers back, giving me a squeeze that makes my breath hitch. I¡¯m trapped in this exquisite torture, my body responding eagerly to her touch while my brain screams about the awkwardness of getting a hand job in a room with Isabella Moretti. Valentina¡¯s Ferrari crosses the finish line first, the checkered flag waving triumphantly. The crowd erupts into frenzied cheers, the Italian fans going absolutely wild for their hometown hero¡¯s victory. Caterina leaps to her feet with such sudden energy that she nearly knocks over our chair. Her hand finally leaves my crotch as she throws both arms into the air, screaming with genuine joy. ¡°YES! THAT¡¯S MY FUCKING COUSIN!¡± she shrieks, jumping up and down like a teenager at a concert. In her cocaine-fueled excitement, Caterina grabs my face and crashes her lips against mine. The kiss is messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth as she practically devours me right there in the private box. When she finally pulls back, her crimson eyes are wild, pupils blown so wide they almost swallow the red entirely. Her perfect blonde hair is disheveled, her chest heaving as she stares at me with naked hunger. ¡°Adam,¡± she pants, her voice husky and urgent, ¡°meet me in the men¡¯s restroom. Now.¡± My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. ¡°Wait, you want to fuck here? At the race track?¡± ¡°I need to,¡± she growls, her fingers digging into my shoulders with bruising force. A wave of warmth washes over me, equal parts embarrassment and arousal. The drugs in my system make everything feel so exciting, even this wildly inappropriate suggestion. ¡°Okay,¡± I whisper, a dopey smile spreading across my face. I push myself up from the chair. ¡°Two minutes,¡± Caterina whispers against my ear, her breath hot against my skin. I nod as I make my way toward the door. Behind me, I hear Caterina saying something about needing to make a call to congratulate Valentina, her voice oddly controlled considering what she just whispered to me. I navigate through the VIP hallway, following the signs to the nearest restroom. When I reach the men¡¯s room, I awkwardly maneuver my elbow to push down on the handle. The heavy door swings open, and I slip inside, letting it fall shut behind me with a solid thud. The sudden quiet is jarring after the cacophony of the race, making me wonder if the area is sound proofed in some way. The bathroom is surprisingly luxurious for a sporting venue but more importantly, it¡¯s completely empty. I lean against the sink, taking a moment to catch my breath. My reflection stares back at me from the mirror, flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, and that leather collar snug around my neck. I look exactly like what I am. Someone¡¯s well-kept pet waiting for instructions. ***** [Maddy¡¯s POV] I lean against the wall of our private viewing box, exhausted but satisfied, as I watch Valentina take the podium. The Italian national anthem swells through the speakers, and I allow myself a small smile. After staying up all night arranging this victory, it¡¯s gratifying to see our work pay off. ¡°Worth every penny,¡± I murmur to myself, remembering the astronomical sum we paid Piastri to take out her teammate. Valentina stands proudly on the top step, clutching her trophy with both hands, her crimson eyes bright with joy. The Ferrari team below her celebrates wildly, red flags waving in a sea of delirious fans. It¡¯s a perfect moment, an Italian driver winning for Ferrari on Italian soil. I stifle a yawn, the exhaustion finally catching up to me. Beside me, Lara taps away at her iPad, probably writing more of her depraved fiction. The crack comes suddenly, a sharp, distinctive sound that my brain registers before I can process what¡¯s happening. On the screen, Valentina¡¯s head snaps backward, a spray of red misting the air behind her. For one suspended moment, she remains standing, trophy still clutched in her hands. Then she crumples, collapsing in a heap on the podium as chaos erupts. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Moments before disaster: Chapter 62: 360 No Scope [Luna¡¯s POV] [10 Minutes Ago] I adjust my stolen staff credentials, humming a little tune as I climb the metal stairs to the roof access. The case swings heavy in my grip, but I handle it easily. Nobody questions uniforms. Why would they? ¡°This is going to be beautiful,¡± I whisper to myself, unable to contain my excitement. The stairwell is empty, just as my contact promised. The cameras are all disabled. I take my time, savoring each step toward my destination. The distant roar of engines and crowd cheers filters through the concrete walls, growing louder as I approach the roof. ¡°The Queen Caterina,¡± I mock in a sing-song voice, ¡°with all her power and money, fixing races for her precious cousin.¡± I giggle, the sound echoing in the stairwell. The thought of Caterina¡¯s face when she realizes what¡¯s happening, it makes me feel horny. ¡°All that work,¡± I continue, talking to myself as I climb, ¡°bribing drivers, sabotaging an engine, just to give her cousin one good victory.¡± I reach the roof access door and set down my case to fish out the key I was provided. The lock clicks open smoothly. ¡°And now I get to immortalize her with one perfect shot.¡± ¡®This bitch should be thanking me. She¡¯s about to become a legend.¡¯ The sunlight hits me as I step onto the roof, momentarily blinding after the dim stairwell. I shield my eyes, taking in my surroundings. Perfect. Just as described, an unobstructed view of the podium, no security in sight, and enough distance that the shot won¡¯t be immediately traceable. I set the case down and pop it open, my fingers moving quickly but carefully as I assemble the rifle. Each piece clicks into place with satisfying precision. I¡¯ve always enjoyed this part, the calm before the storm, the preparation, the anticipation. ¡°Isabella will be so pleased,¡± I murmur, attaching the scope. ¡°Taking out Valentina right as she celebrates... it¡¯s poetic, really.¡± The walkie-talkie at my hip crackles to life, startling me from my focus. I grab it with my free hand, keeping the other steady on the rifle. ¡°Qu¨¦ pasa?¡± I snap, annoyed at the interruption when I¡¯m this close to taking my shot. ¡°Boss, you won¡¯t fucking believe this,¡± Mia¡¯s excited voice comes through the static. ¡°Adam is in the men¡¯s room. Completely alone.¡± I freeze, my finger hovering over the trigger. ¡°De Luca¡¯s pet?¡± ¡°S¨ª, boss. We¡¯ve already secured the VIP lounge from the outside. Electronic locks engaged. They¡¯re not kicking those doors down, period.¡± A slow smile spreads across my face as I lower the rifle slightly. This is too perfect. Two birds, one stone. ¡°That¡¯s much easier than our original plan to kidnap her man,¡± I laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in my chest. ¡°I¡¯ll grab him myself. After I put down the goomba. ¡°Sounds good, boss,¡± Mia responds. ¡°We¡¯ve cleared your path to the bathroom. No witnesses.¡± I feel my lips curve into a smile as I watch Valentina De Luca stand triumphant on the podium, bathed in the adoration of thousands. The Italian anthem swells through the air, a soundtrack for what comes next. Through my scope, I can see every detail, her flushed face, her crimson eyes bright with victory, her hands clutching that gaudy trophy like it¡¯s the Holy Grail. I steady my breathing, feeling time slow down as I center my crosshairs directly between her eyes. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. The anthem reaches its crescendo. I squeeze the trigger. The rifle kicks against my shoulder as Valentina¡¯s head snaps back, a beautiful red cloud blooming behind her like some exotic flower. The trophy tumbles from her hands as she crumples to the podium floor. ¡°That was fucking perfection.¡± I breathe, a wave of euphoria washing over me that¡¯s better than any drug. The stadium erupts in screams, but they sound distant and unimportant. I quickly disassemble my rifle, my movements fluid and practiced despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My hands don¡¯t shake, they never do after a kill. ¡°One De Luca down,¡± I whisper as I pack away my equipment. ¡°One to go.¡± I grab my walkie-talkie, pressing it to my lips. ¡°Pizza delivered. Moving to Collect the package.¡± Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡®I gotta dump these clothes.¡¯ ***** [Adam¡¯s POV] Two minutes have passed. And another two. And yet another two. The restroom door hasn¡¯t opened once. Caterina should have been here by now. ¡°Maybe she got held up?¡± I mutter to myself, shifting uncomfortably as I lean against the sink. The drugs in my system make it hard to feel truly concerned, but a small voice in the back of my head nags that something isn¡¯t right. Caterina is never late. Especially not when I¡¯m involved. I push myself away from the sink, deciding to head back to the viewing box. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe she meant a different bathroom. As I reach for the door handle with my elbows, it swings open, and I step back, expecting to see Caterina¡¯s perfect face. Instead, I find myself staring at Luna Cruz¡¯s wild grin. ¡°Hola, guapo,¡± she purrs, her green eyes gleaming with something that makes my blood run cold despite the drugs. ¡°Fancy meeting you here.¡± I take an instinctive step backward, my damaged hands coming up in a pathetic attempt at self-defense. ¡°What are you doing in the men¡¯s room?¡± Luna laughs, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls as she steps fully inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. Her bright Hawaiian shirt seems even more gaudy under the fluorescent lights. ¡°Oh, Adam,¡± she sighs, shaking her head like I¡¯ve said something adorably naive. ¡°I¡¯m here for you, of course.¡± Before I can process what¡¯s happening, the bathroom door opens again. Two women in staff uniforms enter, their faces hard and expressionless. They flank Luna like well-trained dogs, their eyes scanning me with professional assessment. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I ask, my voice embarrassingly shaky. ¡°Where¡¯s Caterina?¡± Luna¡¯s smile widens, showing too many teeth. ¡°Caterina is... indisposed at the moment. Probably dealing with a family emergency.¡± The way she says ¡°family emergency¡± sends ice through my veins, cutting through the drug-induced haze. Something terrible has happened. ¡°What did you do?¡± I whisper, backing up until I hit the wall. The cold tile presses against my back as Luna advances. ¡°Me? Nothing much,¡± she replies with a casual shrug. ¡°Just put a bullet through her cousin¡¯s brain during the national anthem. Very patriotic, don¡¯t you think?¡± The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, cutting through my drug-induced fog in an instant. My knees nearly buckle beneath me as the implication sinks in. ¡°Valentina?¡± I whisper, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. ¡°You... killed Valentina?¡± Luna tilts her head, studying me with predatory curiosity. ¡°Of course. One less De Luca in the world.¡± She shrugs like she¡¯s discussing the weather, not a cold-blooded murder. ¡°Nothing personal against her specifically. I just want Caterina to hurt.¡± Something primal surges inside me, panic, fear, rage, and before I can think it through, I lunge toward the door, desperate to get past her. My damaged hands are useless for fighting, but maybe I can just push through, find Caterina, warn her that she might be next. I don¡¯t make it two steps. Luna¡¯s hand shoots out, tangling in my hair with frightening ease. She yanks back hard, forcing my head up and exposing my throat. The collar around my neck suddenly feels like it¡¯s choking me. ¡°Look at you,¡± she laughs, her green eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. ¡°Trying to run with those pathetic hands.¡± She twists my hair, sending sharp pain across my scalp. ¡°Caterina really did a number on you, didn¡¯t she? Broke your hands so badly you can¡¯t even make a proper fist.¡± I struggle against her grip, but it¡¯s futile. The drugs still flowing through my system make my movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Luna holds me in place with insulting ease, like I¡¯m no more threatening than a kitten. ¡°What... what do you want with me?¡± I gasp, trying to steady myself against the sink with my elbow. Luna¡¯s smile widens, her eyes dancing with malicious delight. ¡°Oh, I have so many ideas for you, Adam. So many wonderful, terrible ideas.¡± She looks past me to her two silent companions. ¡°Knock him out. We¡¯re getting the fuck out of here while everyone¡¯s still panicking about the assassination.¡± ¡°NO!¡± I scream, raw terror finally breaking through the drug haze. ¡°CATERINA WILL HUNT YOU DOWN!¡± My voice echoes off the bathroom tiles as I thrash against Luna¡¯s grip. ¡°SHE¡¯LL FUCKING KILL YOU FOR THIS!¡± Luna¡¯s laughter cuts through my panicked screams, her green eyes gleaming with psychotic delight. She yanks my hair harder, forcing me to look directly into her face. ¡°I¡¯m counting on it, gringo,¡± she purrs, her accent thickening with excitement. ¡°That¡¯s the whole fucking point.¡± One of her goons steps forward, a syringe appearing in her hand as if by magic. I struggle harder, desperation giving me strength I didn¡¯t know I had. ¡°She¡¯ll find me!¡± I shout, my voice cracking. ¡°She always finds what belongs to her!¡± ¡°Good,¡± Luna hisses, her breath hot against my face. The needle plunges into my neck before I can respond, a burning sensation spreading outward from the injection site. The bathroom begins to spin around me, Luna¡¯s wild grin multiplying and blurring before my eyes. ¡°When she finds what¡¯s left of you,¡± Luna¡¯s voice seems to come from everywhere at once, ¡°she¡¯ll understand what real pain feels like.¡± A/N: Luna, but she had on a disguise. But you get the idea. Chapter 63: Glee Harvey Oswald [Maddy¡¯s pov] ¡°ADAM!¡± Caterina¡¯s scream tears through the VIP lounge as she hurls herself at the door for the third time. The solid metal doesn¡¯t budge, not even when her shoulder slams against it with enough force to shatter normal wood. ¡°Boss, wait!¡± I shout, but she¡¯s beyond reason. The cocaine has her wired to the point of mania, her pupils blown so wide her crimson eyes look almost black. ¡°ADAM IS ALONE!¡± she screams, her voice raw with desperation. ¡°HE¡¯S ALL ALONE!¡± Lara rushes forward, positioning herself beside Caterina. ¡°On three, boss!¡± she shouts. ¡°One... two...¡± I don¡¯t wait for three. I join them, all three of us slamming into the door simultaneously. The impact reverberates through my body, pain shooting up my shoulder, but the door remains stubbornly shut. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Fuck!¡± Caterina howls, pounding her fists against the metal. ¡°ADAM! ADAM!¡± Lara pulls out a pistol. ¡°Let¡¯s just shoot it down.¡± I panic. ¡°Don¡¯t be a fucking idiot. It¡¯s metal. If you shoot the door, it¡¯s just gonna bounce off it!¡± Lara¡¯s shoulders sink as the realization settles in. The monitors are still showing the chaos at the podium, medics swarming around Valentina¡¯s fallen body, spectators screaming, security personnel rushing in every direction. But Caterina hasn¡¯t spared a single glance for her cousin since we realized Adam was alone in the bathroom. I grab my phone, fingers trembling as I dial our security team waiting outside the building. ¡°This is Sullivan. Get these doors open NOW!¡± From the corner of my eye, I can see Isabella watching us with clinical detachment, her jade eyes tracking Caterina¡¯s frantic movements like a scientist observing a lab rat. Tony remains huddled in his seat, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on the floor. ¡°How long?¡± Caterina demands, her voice cracking with desperation as she whirls toward me. Her suit jacket is torn at the shoulder, blood seeping through the white fabric where she¡¯s been ramming the door. ¡°Five minutes, tops,¡± I promise, though I have no idea if that¡¯s true. Those five minutes stretch into an eternity. Caterina paces like a caged animal, mumbling Adam¡¯s name over and over, her bloodied hands clenching and unclenching. Finally, electronic locks disengages with a heavy click. Caterina doesn¡¯t wait, she¡¯s through the door before it¡¯s fully open, sprinting down the hallway passed our team toward the men¡¯s room, her white suit a blur of motion. Lara and I race after her, struggling to keep up. She slams into the bathroom door with her full weight, nearly tearing it from its hinges. ¡°ADAM!¡± she screams, her voice echoing off the tile walls. The bathroom is empty. Completely empty. Caterina freezes, her body going rigid as her crimson eyes scan the vacant space. ¡°No,¡± she whispers, the word barely audible. Then louder: ¡°No.¡± She drops to her knees. "No, no, no, no, NO!" Her voice rises with each repetition until she¡¯s screaming, the sound primal and horrifying. Caterina¡¯s head snaps up suddenly, her crimson eyes clearing for just a moment through the cocaine haze. ¡°Wait... who would take Adam here? At a race track? In Italy?¡± Her voice drops to a whisper as realization crashes over her like a tidal wave. ¡°This was coordinated. This was planned. First Valentina and then my Baby!¡± Caterina¡¯s entire body goes rigid, her crimson eyes widening in horrified understanding. ¡°Isabella,¡± she whispers, the name like poison on her tongue. Then louder, her voice rising to a scream that bounces off the bathroom tiles: ¡°ISABELLA!¡± She whirls around, already moving toward the door with terrifying purpose. ¡°Boss!¡± I start, but she¡¯s already halfway down the corridor, her bloody white suit flashing under the fluorescent lights as she sprints back toward the VIP lounge. ¡°That backstabbing Southern cunt!¡± Caterina¡¯s howl echoes through the hallway. ¡°She set this up! She and that psychotic bitch Luna! It¡¯s weird she wasn¡¯t with them today! IT MUST HAVE BEEN THEM!¡± Her hand plunges inside her jacket, emerging with her custom Beretta. The sight of that gun sends ice through my veins. She¡¯s going to start shooting in a crowded Formula 1 venue. I draw my own weapon instinctively, pulse hammering in my throat as I race after her. ¡°Lara!¡± I shout over my shoulder. ¡°Secure the exits!¡± Lara¡¯s already moving, her wild red hair flying behind her as she splits off toward the emergency stairwell. I catch a glimpse of her savage grin, she¡¯s been waiting for this, itching for violence since we arrived. I have no idea if Isabella is actually behind this. But Caterina¡¯s beyond reason, beyond logic. There¡¯s only rage and cocaine and the desperate terror of losing Adam. We burst back into the VIP lounge, weapons drawn, but Isabella and Tony are gone. Their seats sit empty, a half-finished glass of champagne the only evidence they were ever there. ¡°FIND THEM!¡± Caterina screams, her voice cracking with fury as she kicks over the nearest chair. ¡°LOCK DOWN THIS FUCKING BUILDING!¡± Our security team scrambles to action, but I can already tell it¡¯s too late. Isabella is too smart to stick around after setting something like this in motion. She¡¯s probably halfway to a private airstrip by now. Caterina whirls on me, her crimson eyes wild with desperate fury. ¡°Call everyone. EVERYONE. I want eyes at every airport, every dock, every fucking border crossing in Europe.¡± Her voice drops to a lethal whisper. ¡°And get me a list of every property Isabella owns. Every safe house. Every business. Every fucking toilet she¡¯s ever pissed in.¡± ¡°Boss,¡± I interject. ¡°We also need to deal with Valentina. There are going to be investigators crawling all over this place any minute.¡± Caterina whirls on me, her face transformed into something feral and unrecognizable. Those crimson eyes, dilated to black pools from the cocaine, fix on me with such intensity I take an involuntary step back. ¡°FUCK!¡± she screams, the single word echoing through the VIP lounge with such raw anguish it makes my skin crawl. ***** [Claire¡¯s POV] I take another sip of my Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper concoction, wincing at the sugar rush that hits my system. The carbonation burns my throat in that perfect way that makes me crave more immediately. The house feels too quiet, too empty without him, making the TV¡¯s drone the only thing keeping me from total isolation. On-screen, Valentina De Luca stands triumphant on the Monza podium, her crimson eyes gleaming with victory as she hoists the trophy above her head. The Italian crowd goes wild, their cheers almost drowning out the commentators¡¯ excited babble. Luna promised she¡¯d bring him Adam back soon. But something about the whole plan has been nagging at me lately. ¡°Why did she need Caterina¡¯s Monza schedule?¡± I mutter, poking at the remaining fries. ¡°Seems excessive just to grab Adam while she¡¯s watching the race.¡± My thoughts are interrupted by a flash of red on the screen. Valentina¡¯s head snaps backward violently, blood goes flying behind her. The trophy tumbles from her hands as she falls to the floor. The soda slips from my fingers, ice, and liquid splashing across my lap and the carpet. My half-eaten fries scatter across the coffee table as my body jerks in shock. ¡°Oh my God,¡± I whisper, both hands covering my mouth. The broadcast cuts away immediately, the camera panning wildly to the commentators¡¯ booth. Their faces are frozen in identical expressions of horror, mouths hanging open mid-sentence. One woman¡¯s hand is pressed against her earpiece, her eyes widening as she receives information. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± she stammers, her professional composure crumbling, ¡°we... we appear to be experiencing a situation on the podium. We¡¯re going to commercial break while we... while we assess what¡¯s happening.¡± ¡°Oh. Fuck.¡± A/N: Claire A/N: A progress update. I think theres only 10 to 20ish chapters of the story left. I don''t want people blind sided by this so thats the tea Chapter 64: The Wheels Smoke fills my lungs as Boston burns in front of me. The skyline I know so well is engulfed in flames, buildings crumbling like sandcastles as fire consumes everything. People run screaming through the streets, their faces contorted in terror as the inferno chases them. ¡°What the fuck is happening right now?¡± I mutter, standing in the middle of the chaos yet untouched by the flames licking at my feet. A figure emerges from the wall of fire ahead, walking calmly through the inferno as if taking a Sunday stroll. The silhouette resolves into a woman in a black suit, red tie, and crisp white shirt. My breath catches in my throat. ¡°Candice?¡± She stops a few feet from me, and I can see her clearly now. Three bullet holes mar her body, one between her eyes and two in her chest. Blood pours from the wounds in thick rivulets, but she doesn¡¯t seem bothered by it. Her expression is calm, almost curious. ¡°Oh, so I look like Candice to you, eh?¡± She glances down at herself, examining the suit and the blood with mild interest. ¡°Hmm.¡± Before I can respond, she claps her hands once. The sound echoes impossibly loud, and suddenly, the burning city vanishes. We¡¯re standing in an endless expanse of white nothingness, stretching infinitely in all directions. No floor, no ceiling, no walls, just white. I sigh, the realization hitting me like a truck. ¡°Oh fuck, I just got kidnapped by Luna.¡± I go to run my hands through my hair in frustration, then freeze. My hands, my broken, mangled hands, are whole again. I flex my fingers in amazement, turning my palms up and down, making fists and spreading my fingers wide. No pain. No deformity. Just normal, functioning hands. ¡°They work here,¡± I whisper, wiggling my fingers in disbelief. Candice watches me with an amused expression. ¡°Of course they do. This is a dream.¡± I look up sharply. ¡°I¡¯m dreaming?¡± She smiles, and it¡¯s Candice¡¯s warm, maternal smile, but there¡¯s something else behind it, something ancient and knowing that makes my skin prickle. ¡°Something like that,¡± she says, walking a circle around me. The bullet holes in her head and chest continue to bleed, but the blood vanishes before it hits the white non-floor. ¡°Who are you?¡± I ask, my voice echoing strangely in this white void. Candice tilts her head, her smile growing smugger by the second. ¡°Who do you think I am, Adam?¡± I stare at her for a long moment, studying her. My chest tightens with grief and guilt so overwhelming it threatens to crush me. Without thinking, I step forward and wrap my arms around her, burying my face against her shoulder. ¡°I imagine you¡¯re the manifestation of all my guilt for getting Candice killed,¡± I mumble against the fabric of her suit, which smells like nothing at all. ¡°And I want you to know is, I¡¯m so fucking sorry. She was innocent. She was kind to me. And now she¡¯s dead because of me.¡± S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Candice gently pushes me away, holding me at arm¡¯s length. Her eyes sparkle with amusement. ¡°Nope,¡± she says simply. ¡°I¡¯m the one who switched you from your world to this one.¡± I blink several times, trying to process her words through my dream-addled brain. ¡°Wait, what?¡± ¡°You heard me,¡± she replies, looking entirely too pleased with herself. I groan, dragging my newly functional hands down my face. ¡°Then why not just say that from the start? Why all this cryptic bullshit?¡± She throws her head back and laughs, the sound echoing endlessly in the white void. ¡°Because it¡¯s funny!¡± ¡°Funny?¡± I sputter, my voice rising with indignation. ¡°You think this is funny? My life has been a living hell since I got here! I¡¯ve been tortured, drugged, broken, and now kidnapped by a psychopath who probably wants to murder me!¡± Candice grimaces, her brow furrowing as she looks at me with something almost like guilt. ¡°Yeah, you really caught the short end of that stick. That¡¯s my bad.¡± I stare at her, processing this casual admission. ¡°So what now? Are you going to save me? Send me back to my world?¡± I ask, desperation creeping into my voice despite my efforts to sound calm. She shakes her head, looking genuinely regretful. ¡°I can¡¯t right now. It¡¯s... complicated.¡± I sigh heavily, throwing my hands up in frustration. ¡°Then why are we even talking? What¡¯s the point of this whole dream sequence if you¡¯re not going to help me?¡± Candice gives me an irritated look, crossing her arms over her chest as the blood continues to flow from her wounds. ¡°No one ever has questions for me. It¡¯s so annoying.¡± ¡°Fine. Here¡¯s a question,¡± I snap, anger finally boiling over. ¡°Why did you choose to ruin my life? Out of all the people in all the worlds, why pick me to throw into this hellscape?¡± Candice¡¯s face breaks into a smile that spans too wide for a human face, stretching unnaturally at the corners until it looks almost painful. ¡°You know what¡¯s funny, Adam?¡± she asks, her voice suddenly echoing like it¡¯s coming from every direction at once. ¡°You were always into those reverse rape stories. Those novels where the gender roles were flipped. The ones where men were pursued, dominated, controlled.¡± ¡°Those were just fantasies,¡± I lie. ¡°Just stories I read online. Not something I wanted in real life!¡± ¡°And yet,¡± she says, spreading her arms wide to encompass the infinite white space around us, ¡°here you are, living one out in perfect detail.¡± ¡°This is bullshit!¡± I slam my fist against my chest. ¡°You think this is what I wanted? To be tortured? To have my hands smashed with a hammer? To watch innocent people die?¡± Candice tilts her head, studying me with eyes that suddenly seem too deep, too knowing. ¡°But don¡¯t you love Caterina?¡± she asks softly. The question hits me like a punch to the gut. ¡°It¡¯s... complicated,¡± I mutter. She circles me slowly, her feet making no sound on the non-existent floor. ¡°She¡¯s everything you¡¯ve ever wanted,¡± Candice continues. ¡°Beautiful. Powerful. Possessive. Dangerous. The perfect domme you used to fantasize about before you came here. A yandere to the very core.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you love Caterina?¡± she asks again, but this time, her voice seems to multiply, echoing from a hundred different directions, as if an entire crowd is asking me the same question simultaneously. The pressure builds in my chest like something inside me is struggling to break free. I drop to my knees, clutching my head as the question reverberates through my skull. ¡°Don¡¯t you love Caterina? Don¡¯t you love Caterina? Don¡¯t you love Caterina?¡± ¡°STOP!¡± I scream, but the voices continue, drilling into my brain with merciless intensity. Something inside me cracks, a dam breaking under too much pressure. The truth spills out before I can stop it. ¡°Yes!¡± I gasp, tears streaming down my face. ¡°Yes, I love her! I love being around her, feeling her attention on me, being the center of her world!¡± The voices go silent, leaving only my ragged breathing echoing in the white void. I look up at Candice, who¡¯s watching me with an expression of smug satisfaction. I bury my face in my hands, the weight of my confession crushing me. ¡°But I¡¯m not stupid. I know it¡¯s just Stockholm syndrome.¡± Candice snorts, crossing her arms over her bullet-riddled chest. ¡°Who cares what it is? It¡¯s real, Adam. Most people in this world never find love at all. Aren¡¯t you lucky?¡± I leap to my feet, suddenly furious. ¡°Lucky? LUCKY? I¡¯ve been kidnapped by a crazy Latina who¡¯s probably going to torture me to death!¡± Candice sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping with what looks almost like genuine disappointment. ¡°Yeah, that really sucks,¡± she admits, looking away. As she turns, I hear her mutter under her breath, ¡°At least Claire will be important again soon.¡± ¡°My stupid fucking not-wife wife?¡± Candice¡¯s head snaps back toward me, her eyes widening slightly before her expression smooths over. ¡°Nothing,¡± she says too quickly. ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything.¡± I narrow my eyes at her. ¡°What are you hiding?¡± ¡°Look, I¡¯ll make you a deal, okay?¡± She starts pacing in a circle around me again. ¡°If you die early, which, let¡¯s be real, is looking pretty likely with Luna, I¡¯ll let you choose a different world to move to.¡± The offer hangs between us. I consider it for a moment, this strange bargain from this even stranger being. ¡°What if I want to just die, die?¡± I ask. ¡°You know, actual death. Oblivion. The big sleep.¡± Her face scrunches up like I¡¯ve suggested putting ketchup on filet mignon. ¡°That¡¯s boring,¡± she says flatly. ¡°Honestly, Adam, where¡¯s your sense of adventure?¡± A distant sound catches my attention, a metallic rattling like chains being dragged across concrete. It¡¯s faint but growing louder by the second. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I ask, suddenly nervous. Her expression shifts to something like regret. ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s time for you to go,¡± she says, stepping toward me. ¡°Luna¡¯s women are moving you.¡± ¡°Wait, I still have quest¡­¡± But Candice doesn¡¯t wait. She places her palm against my chest and pushes. It¡¯s a gentle motion, but it sends me falling backward into sudden nothingness, the white void opening beneath me like a trapdoor. As I fall, her voice follows me down: ¡°Oh, and the other Adam is fine! I put him in Skyrim!¡± ¡°WHAT THE FUCK?¡± A/N: The Wheels Chapter 65: Hanging Around ¡°SKYRIM!¡± I scream, jolting awake in a world of pain. My wrists burn like fire, suspended high above my head by heavy chains. My whole body dangles, feet barely brushing the floor, shoulders screaming from supporting my weight. Through blurry vision, I make out Luna¡¯s wild-haired silhouette stepping closer, her Hawaiian shirt a nauseating blur of color in the dim light. ¡°Skyrim?¡± she questions, tilting her head like a confused predator. A violent shudder runs through my body, pulling a groan from my parched throat. My stomach clenches painfully, muscles spasming beyond my control. It feels like my insides are trying to claw their way out. ¡°W¡­where am I?¡± I croak, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. Luna steps closer, her face coming into sharper focus. That wide smile stretches across her face, predatory and gleeful. She reaches up and grabs my jaw with one hand, fingers digging painfully into my cheeks. ¡°Home, kid,¡± she says, squeezing harder until my teeth cut into the inside of my mouth. ¡°You¡¯re back in Boston.¡± I try to focus on her face, but everything keeps blurring and shifting. My skin feels like it¡¯s crawling with invisible insects. ¡°I don¡¯t feel so good.¡± Luna releases my jaw and steps back, her green eyes scanning me with clinical detachment. For the first time, I notice the group of women standing behind her, five of them, all impossibly muscular, arms crossed over broad chests as they watch me dangle like a piece of meat. ¡°You¡¯re probably feeling withdrawal,¡± Luna says, that terrible smile widening even further. ¡°Caterina kept you pretty doped up, didn¡¯t she? Lord knows what she pumped into you.¡± My teeth begin to chatter uncontrollably. The room¡¯s too cold, then suddenly too hot. ¡°Please...¡± ¡°We can give you some heroin,¡± Luna offers, her voice dripping with false sympathy. ¡°Take the edge off. But it¡¯s gonna cost you.¡± Behind her, the tallest of the women runs her tongue across her lips, eyes never leaving mine. The gesture sends ice through my veins despite the fever burning me from within. ¡°What do you want?¡± I whisper, already knowing the answer won¡¯t be good. Luna throws her head back and laughs, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls like broken glass. Without warning, her fist drives into my stomach with brutal force. All the air rushes from my lungs as pain explodes through my core. I gag violently, bile rising in my throat as I struggle desperately not to vomit while hanging. ¡°Listen, pretty boy,¡± Luna says, leaning in close enough that I can smell her minty breath. ¡°I just need you to stay quiet and let these women have their fun with you while I film it, okay? Consider it payment for the drugs.¡± ¡°What the fuck?¡± I wheeze, still fighting to catch my breath as cold dread washes over me. One of the women steps forward from the group, the tallest one with close-cropped black hair and scarred knuckles. Her muscular frame towers over Luna as she approaches me, her dark eyes assessing me like I¡¯m merchandise. Even through my haze of pain and withdrawal, I can¡¯t help but notice she¡¯s stunning, all lean muscle and dangerous curves, her face carved from marble. But the predatory look in her eyes terrifies me more than Luna¡¯s casual cruelty. ¡°I¡¯m Mia,¡± she says, her voice surprisingly soft for someone so intimidating. ¡°Luna¡¯s told me all about you.¡± Before I can respond, her hand shoots out, grabbing my crotch with unexpected force. I gasp, my body betraying me as blood rushes south despite my terror. Her fingers explore me through the fabric of my pants, and to my horror, I feel myself hardening under her touch. Her eyes widen slightly as she glances down at my growing erection, then up to my face. She leans in closer, and I catch a glimpse of her cleavage beneath her tank top. Mia¡¯s eyes widen in surprise as she continues to grip me through my pants. Her head whips around toward Luna. ¡°Boss,¡± she says, her voice tinged with unexpected excitement, ¡°he¡¯s hard already!¡± Luna¡¯s eyebrows shoot up, that predatory smile stretching impossibly wider across her face. ¡°Well, well,¡± she purrs, stepping closer to examine me. ¡°Caterina¡¯s little pet is more eager than we thought.¡± Before I can protest, Mia¡¯s strong hands are at my waistband, yanking my pants down with brutal efficiency. They pool around my ankles, leaving me exposed and vulnerable as I hang there, my erection jutting out embarrassingly in front of everyone. The women behind Luna let out appreciative whistles and catcalls, their eyes raking over my body with undisguised hunger. I feel my face burning with humiliation. A violent tremor wracks through my body, my muscles seizing painfully as another wave of withdrawal hits me. Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead as nausea twists my stomach into knots. Mia wraps her hand around my cock, her grip firm but not painful. The unexpected contact draws an involuntary moan from me. ¡°Boss,¡± Mia says, her dark eyes flickering toward Luna, ¡°I think he¡¯ll be more... cooperative if we give him some dope now. Take the edge off his withdrawal.¡± Luna considers this for a moment, tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully. ¡°You might be right,¡± she concedes, nodding slowly. ¡°We need him conscious enough to react but not so far gone he can¡¯t perform.¡± She snaps her fingers at one of the women in the back. ¡°Prep a dose. Not too much, just enough to keep him from seizing.¡± The woman nods and disappears into the shadows beyond my field of vision. I hang there, trembling and exposed, as Mia continues to stroke me with methodical precision. ¡°Please,¡± I whisper, my voice cracking. ¡°Cat will pay whatever you want. Just let me go.¡± Luna steps closer, her green eyes gleaming with malicious delight. ¡°Oh, Adam,¡± she sighs, reaching up to pat my cheek with mock tenderness. ¡°This isn¡¯t about money. This is about making Caterina De Luca suffer in ways she never thought possible.¡± The woman returns with a syringe filled with amber liquid. Luna takes it from her, examining it against the dim light before nodding in satisfaction. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Hold him steady,¡± she instructs Mia, who immediately grips my arm with one hand while continuing to stroke me with the other. Luna approaches with the needle, her eyes locked on mine. ¡°This will make you feel better,¡± she purrs, the false concern in her voice making my skin crawl. ¡°And more... cooperative.¡± The needle slides into my arm with practiced precision. The effect is almost instantaneous, warmth flooding through my veins and chasing away the worst of the withdrawal symptoms. My head lolls back as relief washes over me, my muscles relaxing as the heroin takes hold. ¡°There we go,¡± Luna murmurs, stepping back to admire her handiwork. ¡°Much better.¡± Through my drug-hazed vision, I see Mia lean closer, her face now level with my exposed cock. Her hand continues its rhythmic stroking, but her attention seems focused elsewhere. To my shock, she leans in and takes a deep inhale, her nose nearly touching the base of my shaft. Luna¡¯s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. ¡°What are you doing, Mia?¡± Mia slows her ministrations, looking up at Luna with an expression I can¡¯t quite read. Her nostrils flare as she takes another subtle sniff. ¡°Boss, I think I really like this one,¡± she says, her voice carrying a note of unexpected sincerity. Luna furrows her brow, studying her enforcer with growing curiosity. ¡°What do you mean you ¡®like¡¯ him?¡± Mia straightens slightly, though her hand remains wrapped around me. ¡°He smells... right,¡± she explains, her voice dropping to something almost reverential. ¡°And he¡¯s so responsive.¡± Luna¡¯s expression shifts from confusion to calculating interest. She crosses her arms, head tilted as she considers Mia¡¯s words. ¡°Do you want to be the one to take care of him while he stays here?¡± she asks, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. Mia¡¯s face lights up with unexpected eagerness. ¡°Can I just keep him when we¡¯re done?¡± The question bursts from her like she couldn¡¯t contain it, surprising even herself. Luna shrugs, seemingly unbothered by the request. ¡°I promised him to his stupid ex-wife or whatever, but I don¡¯t care.¡± She waves her hand dismissively. ¡°If you want him after we¡¯re finished with Caterina, he¡¯s yours.¡± My stomach drops despite the heroin¡¯s warm embrace. They¡¯re discussing my future like I¡¯m a piece of furniture to be passed around. The casual way Luna mentions Claire makes me wonder what arrangement they¡¯ve made, what role my maybe-wife plays in all this. The heroin dulls my terror but doesn¡¯t eliminate it completely. Through the chemical haze, I watch Mia signal to the others with a sharp jerk of her chin. ¡°Get him down,¡± she orders, her voice carrying the unmistakable edge of authority. ¡°Carefully.¡± Two women step forward, muscles rippling beneath their tight shirts as they reach for the chains holding me suspended. The metal clanks and groans as they work the mechanism, lowering me until my feet finally touch solid ground. My legs buckle immediately, unable to support my weight after hanging for so long. Mia catches me before I can collapse, her strong arms wrapping around my waist. ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± she murmurs, her breath hot against my ear. She half-carries, half-drags me across the concrete floor toward what looks like a makeshift bedroom area in the corner of the warehouse. A king-sized mattress sits on a metal frame, incongruously domestic in this industrial setting. The sheets look clean, at least, which seems like a bizarre detail to notice, given the circumstances. The room spins lazily around me as Mia lowers me onto the mattress. My pants are still around my ankles, my shirt clinging to my sweat-soaked body. I try to focus on something, anything, to anchor myself, but the heroin makes everything soft and distant. Luna appears at the foot of the bed, a professional-looking camera in her hands. She fiddles with the settings, her tongue poking out between her teeth in concentration. ¡°This is gonna be my masterpiece,¡± she says, a disturbing glee in her voice. ¡°Caterina¡¯s little pet getting fucked by my crew. I bet she¡¯ll lose her mind when she sees it.¡± My stomach lurches at her words, but my body feels disconnected from my brain. I should be fighting, screaming, doing something, but all I can manage is a weak tug at my bound wrists. Mia turns toward the group of women hovering nearby, all watching with varying degrees of interest and hunger. She points at them, her posture suddenly dominant and possessive. ¡°I¡¯m going first,¡± she announces, her voice carrying a dangerous edge. ¡°Then we can all fuck him together.¡± The women exchange glances, some raising eyebrows, others shifting uncomfortably. One of them, a brunette with a scar running down her cheek, clears her throat. ¡°Yeah, sure. That¡¯s fine,¡± she mumbles, not meeting Mia¡¯s intense gaze. The others nod halfheartedly, murmuring similar sentiments. Mia: Chapter 66: Gang Gang Mia looks at me, her dark eyes burning with single-minded focus. She straddles my waist, her muscular thighs bracketing my hips as she settles over me with predatory grace. Her hands slide under my shirt, pushing it up to expose my chest. The heroin makes everything slow and dreamlike, but fear spikes through the haze as I realize what¡¯s about to happen. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I whisper, my voice cracking pathetically. Mia¡¯s only response is a low, throaty chuckle as she leans down, her breasts pressing against me through the thin fabric of her tank top. Her breath is hot on my neck as she whispers, ¡°I¡¯ve never had someone like you before.¡± Her mouth moves to my throat, her teeth grazing my skin with surprising gentleness. I shudder beneath her, torn between terror and the unwanted pleasure building in me despite everything. Her hand finds its way between us, wrapping around my cock with deliberate slowness. ¡°Fuck,¡± she breathes against my ear, increasing the pressure of her grip. ¡°You¡¯re so hard.¡± Mia shifts her hips, positioning herself over me with practiced ease. I feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her shorts. She grinds against my erection, a low growl escaping her throat as she moves. ¡°Please,¡± I gasp, struggling against the ropes binding my wrists. ¡°Don¡¯t do this.¡± Mia pulls back slightly, looking into my eyes with something like amusement. Her hand moves faster on my cock, and I can¡¯t suppress the groan that escapes me this time. ¡°You¡¯re mine now,¡± she says simply. With one swift motion, she yanks off her shorts and underwear. Her bare skin is flushed with desire as she lowers herself onto me without hesitation. The sudden warmth and tightness make my eyes go wide as I gasp for air. Mia rides me savagely, her hips slamming down with brutal force. Each thrust sends shockwaves through my body, pleasure, and pain mingling until they¡¯re indistinguishable from each other. The heroin dulls some of the intensity but not enough to stop it from being overwhelming. She throws her head back with a moan that echoes off the concrete walls. Her fingers dig into my shoulders hard enough to bruise as she uses me for leverage. My vision blurs around the edges while I struggle to hold on to any coherent thought beyond this moment. ¡°So good,¡± Mia pants above me, sweat slicking her skin as she moves faster and harder. ¡°You feel so fucking good.¡± I squeeze my eyes shut against the humiliation threatening to drown me. ¡®Caterina will find you.¡¯ ¡®Caterina will hurt you.¡¯ ¡®Caterina will kill you.¡¯ The thought becomes a mantra in time with Mia¡¯s relentless rhythm until it¡¯s all that keeps me from breaking entirely under this assault on mind and body. Her pace becomes frantic, each thrust more desperate than the last. I can feel her tensing around me, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she drives herself closer and closer to release. Her nails rake down my chest, leaving trails of pan in their wake. ¡°Fuck,¡± Mia moans, her voice breaking with raw intensity. ¡°I¡¯m gonna¡­¡± She slams down one final time, her entire body shuddering violently as she cums with a scream that echoes through the warehouse. Pleasure ripples through her in waves, and I feel every tremor as she rides out her orgasm on top of me. Slowly, she comes back to herself, her breathing heavy and uneven. She looks down at me with those dark eyes, something almost like satisfaction mingling with possessive hunger. ¡°Alright,¡± Mia says breathlessly, glancing toward the other women. ¡°Have at it.¡± Her words send a jolt of fresh terror through me. She climbs off my prone body, leaving me exposed and trembling on the mattress. Her hand lingers on my cock for a moment before she stands up to retrieve her pants. ¡°I¡¯m taking care of you from now on, Adam,¡± she says as she pulls them back on with casual ease. The other women move toward me like wolves, closing in on wounded prey. My pulse hammers in my throat as they surround the bed, their eyes filled with predatory intent. ¡°You¡¯re all mine once Luna¡¯s done with you,¡± Mia calls over her shoulder, sounding almost smug as she steps back to watch the show. The brunette with the scar is first straddling my hips while the others remove my bindings and pin my arms and legs down. Their hands are everywhere at once, rough and demanding as they tear away my remaining clothes and force me to respond despite myself. The brunette rides me hard, her scarred face twisted in pleasure as she bounces on my cock. I barely register the others stripping off their clothes, each one eager to take her turn. My vision blurs, the heroin making everything surreal and distant. Someone¡¯s fingers thread through my hair, yanking my head back as they lower themselves onto my face. ¡°Lick it,¡± the woman above me demands, her voice harsh and breathless. Her taste is awful, bitter and the kind of salty that feels like she hasn¡¯t showerd in days. I gag, turning my head away in protest. She tightens her grip on my hair, pulling painfully. ¡°I said lick it,¡± she growls, grinding against me with bruising force. I refuse, clamping my mouth shut despite the suffocating pressure. My chest burns for air as I struggle beneath them. ¡°Lick or I¡¯ll beat your ass,¡± she threatens, her voice cutting through the haze with brutal clarity. My body betrays me before I can respond. Pleasure builds in a relentless wave as the woman riding me grinds harder, forcing an orgasm that rips through me with devastating intensity. I convulse beneath them, a choked cry escaping my lips as I cum inside the brunette with humiliating force. The woman on my face laughs cruelly at my reaction, her breath hot against my skin as she continues to grind down on me. ¡°Look at him squirm,¡± one of them jeers from somewhere above me. ¡°He loves it.¡± Tears form on my face. The brunette gets off, wiping my cum from her thighs with a satisfied smirk. ¡°Fuck, he¡¯s not even hard anymore,¡± she complains, glaring at me like it¡¯s a personal insult. A particularly attractive Latina with long dark hair shrugs, her eyes locked hungrily on me. ¡°No problem,¡± she says, pushing the others aside as she positions herself behind me. She forces my legs apart and buries her face between them with shocking intensity. Her tongue flicks across my asshole with desperate precision, the unexpected sensation shooting through me like an electric shock. ¡°Holy shit, look at Alejandra go!¡± one of the girls laughs, but Alejandra doesn¡¯t stop. She licks me like her life depends on it, and despite everything, I feel myself twitch in response. The woman on my face growls impatiently, yanking my hair with renewed force. Her scarred face looks angry as she grinds against me. I finally start licking her, my tongue moving sluggishly against her salty skin. She moans loudly, her grip loosening slightly in approval as she rides my face with increasing urgency. ¡°Thought you said this one was broken in,¡± a new girl says as she climbs onto my cock, her hands bracing against my chest as she starts bouncing. Mia stands off to the side with her arms crossed, watching the scene with a possessive gleam in her eyes. ¡°Not broken in,¡± Mia says confidently. ¡°Just needs some training.¡± ¡°Look at Alejandra,¡± one of the women laughs, ¡°she¡¯s going to town on that guy¡¯s asshole.¡± ¡°Does it even taste good?¡± A woman holding a Grimace pez dispenser asks. Alejandra doesn¡¯t even flinch at the taunts. Her tongue moves faster, more insistent, as if this is some kind of competition only she knows about. ¡°Fuck,¡± I gasp, my body betraying me again as unwanted pleasure builds once again. The woman on my face moans loudly, grinding against me with increasing urgency. ¡°Lick it harder!¡± she demands, her voice sharp. I comply, my tongue moving against her with pathetic obedience. She moans in approval, her grip tightening painfully. A shy-looking girl approaches hesitantly, her eyes wide and eager as she takes in the scene. She stops near my right hand, which hangs uselessly off the mattress. ¡°I¡¯m gonna borrow this for a second, okay?¡± she asks, her voice soft and breathy. When I don¡¯t respond, she picks up my limp wrist and says, ¡°Can you make a fist?¡± ¡°His hands are fucked up.¡± Luna reminds them. ¡°Oh, okay, that¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll make it a fist for him then.¡± The next thing I know, I feel her flesh grabbing my damaged hand from all sides. This fucking girl is riding it with wild abandon. She moans wildly as she guides it in and out of herself with frantic movements. ¡°Up and down,¡± she pants, her breath coming in ragged gasps. All of this feels so exhausting. My body is pulled in every direction at once. The girl on my face rides me hard, her moans blending with the others in a cacophony of pleasure and desperation. The shy girl bounces on my fist like it¡¯s the last thing she¡¯ll ever do. Alejandra continues tonguing me relentlessly while another woman grinds against my cock. I can¡¯t keep track of them all. Their hands are everywhere at once, pulling me apart and putting me back together again until I don¡¯t know where one ends and the next begins. The shy girl cums first, a high-pitched cry escaping her lips as she collapses on the ground. My hand falls out with a wet popping sound. The woman on my face follows closely behind, shuddering violently as pleasure rips through her body. She slumps forward, trapping me beneath her as I struggle to breathe. Alejandra¡¯s tongue works feverishly until I convulse beneath them all. My vision goes white around the edges as I cum for the second time, shooting thick streams of my cum deep inside the new woman riding me. The women around me exchange glances, some looking surprised, others amused. They pull back slightly, leaving me gasping for breath on the mattress. ¡°Just give him the dick shot,¡± Mia says, her voice carrying that authoritative edge. ¡°He seems like a big cummer.¡± A girl nods, her hands already moving to prep a needle. I watch in helpless resignation as she approaches with the syringe. Mia comes over to me, her dark eyes burning with possessive intensity. She leans down, her breath hot against my ear. ¡°You¡¯re in for a long night,¡± she whispers. The needle sinks into my thigh, and I watch as the plunger depresses, flooding my system with whatever cocktail they¡¯ve prepared. The effect is instant, my body reacts before my brain can catch up, blood rushing to my cock with mortifying speed. Mia¡¯s eyes widen in surprise. ¡°That was fast,¡± she breathes, watching me twitch back to life. Luna moves closer, the camera steady in her hands as she captures every detail. She laughs, the sound echoing off the concrete walls like a taunt. ¡°Let¡¯s see how many times you girls can make Caterina¡¯s lover cum tonight.¡± Chapter 67: Adam’s Great Escape The water is too hot, but I don¡¯t care. It scalds my skin, turning it red and raw, but I just huddle beneath the spray, letting it wash over me. My body shakes uncontrollably, whether from the drugs or the exhaustion or the sheer shock of what¡¯s happened, I don¡¯t know. Mia holds me in her arms, her muscular frame a stark contrast to my trembling one. Her embrace is tight and unyielding as she kneels beside me on the shower floor, the water pouring over both of us. I don¡¯t want her touch, but I¡¯m too broken right now to pull away. ¡°Shhh,¡± she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rush of water. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m sorry.¡± I don¡¯t respond. Can¡¯t respond. My throat is raw from screaming, my eyes burning from tears that won¡¯t stop coming. I bury my face against her shoulder and sob like a child. She kisses the top of my head, her lips warm against my wet hair. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of you,¡± she murmurs, but the promise feels hollow and terrifying. I don¡¯t feel comfortable with Mia at all. The hours blurred together in a haze of pain and humiliation. The women took turns with me until my body felt like it wasn¡¯t mine anymore until everything was reduced to a cycle of pleasure and despair that left me numb and empty inside. And now here I am in Mia¡¯s arms, crying like a baby while she strokes my back with a gentleness that makes me want to scream all over again. I pull away from her, my movements sluggish and uncoordinated. My damaged hands hang limply at my sides as I try to put some distance between us in the cramped shower stall. Mia watches me with those dark eyes that seem to see right through me. She reaches out to tuck a strand of wet hair behind my ear, but I flinch away from her touch. She sighs softly, shutting off the water before standing up. ¡°Come on,¡± she says, her voice more commanding now. ¡°Let¡¯s get you dried off.¡± I follow her out of the shower on shaky legs, not because I want to but because there¡¯s nothing else I can do. She wraps a towel around my shoulders and guides me toward the mattress where they had me chained up earlier. It¡¯s been stripped bare now, clean sheets replacing the sweat-soaked ones from before. My body sinks into the mattress with an exhausted groan as Mia towels off her own hair before tossing it aside carelessly. Mia settles beside me, her body curling around mine in a way that makes me want to scream. I feel her breath against my neck as she spoons me. Her muscular arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer until there¡¯s no space left between us. ¡°You¡¯re going to be happy here, Adam,¡± she whispers, her voice carrying the same note of certainty that makes it sound like a command. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡± I stare at the cracked ceiling above us, my vision blurring with tears I can¡¯t hold back. The room spins lazily around me as the drugs continue their slow, relentless assault on my senses. ¡°We¡¯ll have a good life together,¡± Mia continues, her lips brushing against my skin in a way that should be gentle but feels suffocating. ¡°Once Luna¡¯s done with Caterina, you won¡¯t have to worry about anything.¡± Her words sink into me like poison, each one twisting deeper until I can¡¯t breathe around the knot in my chest. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying to ground myself against the growing despair. ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my neck. ¡°I¡¯ll keep you safe.¡± Safe. The word echoes hollowly in my mind, a promise that means nothing when everything I care about is gone. My throat tightens painfully as I think of Caterina¡¯s face when she realizes what¡¯s happened to me, the rage and hurt that will consume her when she sees what they¡¯ve done. The tears spill over, hot and unwelcome, as they slide down my cheeks. I wish I could stop them, but it¡¯s impossible under Mia¡¯s relentless insistence and the drugs¡¯ numbing embrace. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± Mia says again, her voice almost tender now. She nuzzles against me like we¡¯re lovers sharing an intimate moment rather than captor and captive caught in a nightmare. I close my eyes against the sting of tears, shame, and hopelessness. There¡¯s no escape from this except one that feels more distant by the second. Even death seems like a luxury beyond reach. The thought claws at me with desperate urgency. I wish I could just kill myself right now. But I can¡¯t even do that. Not while Mia holds me so tightly in her arms. Not while Luna has plans for me that extend beyond what any sane person could endure. ¡°Shh,¡± Mia soothes as if sensing the turmoil inside me. Her grip tightens around my waist. I want to scream or fight or disappear entirely into the void where none of this matters anymore. But all I can do is lie there beside her on the mattress while she whispers promises of a future I don¡¯t want and kisses away tears that refuse to stop falling. Mia¡¯s breathing slows, her grip on me loosening as she finally drifts into a heavy sleep. I lie perfectly still, my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for any sign she might wake. After what feels like an eternity, I begin to move. Her arm is still draped over my waist, but it¡¯s slack now, no longer the steel trap it was before. I twist carefully, inch by inch until I¡¯m free from her grasp. My heart races with the first flicker of hope I¡¯ve felt since they took me. I glance down at my wrists and realize with a jolt that there are no bindings. No ropes or chains holding me in place. Just Mia¡¯s possessive embrace. I roll off the mattress, landing awkwardly on the floor. My damaged hands are useless for balance, but I manage to keep from making too much noise as I hit the concrete. Mia stirs slightly, mumbling something in her sleep. I freeze, terror clawing up my throat as I wait for her to wake and drag me back to hell. But she doesn¡¯t wake. Her breathing evens out again, deep and steady. I¡¯m naked and shaking as I crawl across the warehouse floor. Each movement sends jolts of pain through my body, but I grit my teeth and push forward. The vast space stretches endlessly around me in the dim light, every shadow a potential threat. The other women must be in another part of the building or asleep like Mia because no one stops me as I make my way toward the exit. The metal door looms ahead of me like a beacon of salvation. My pulse hammers in my ears as I get closer, each inch feeling like a mile. I reach the door and push myself to my feet with effort. My legs tremble beneath me, barely able to support my weight after everything they¡¯ve put me through. But adrenaline and desperation keep me upright long enough to reach for the handle with my elbow. The door swings open easily, almost too easily. ¡®Freedom baby! Finally!!!¡¯ My heart sinks as Luna¡¯s silhouette comes into focus against the night sky. She leans casually against the wall just outside, her Hawaiian shirt vibrant even in the darkness. ¡°Oh,¡± she says with an exaggerated tone that doesn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°What a surprise.¡± ¡°Fuck.¡± I stagger backward, panic crashing over me like a tidal wave. Luna steps inside, letting the door swing shut behind her with a solid thud that echoes through the warehouse like a death knell. ¡°You didn¡¯t even say goodbye,¡± she pouts, her green eyes gleaming with amusement as she advances on me with predatory grace. I stumble away from her, retreating back toward Mia¡¯s sleeping form on shaky legs that feel ready to give out at any moment. ¡°Adam, Adam, Adam,¡± Luna sighs, that terrible grin stretching across her face as she closes the distance between us. ¡°You are the unluckiest man I¡¯ve ever met in my life.¡± I backpedal wildly, my body screaming in protest with every step. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°But since you still have some fight left in you,¡± she continues, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, ¡°we¡¯re going to have to do something about that.¡± My heel catches on the edge of the mattress. I fall backward, landing hard beside Mia¡¯s sleeping form. Her arm flops over me as she stirs awake, blinking blearily at the sudden commotion. ¡°Adam?¡± she says confusedly, her voice thick with sleep. She sits up, her dark eyes immediately narrowing as she takes in the scene. Luna stops at the edge of the mattress, looking down at us with undisguised amusement. ¡°Adam here just tried to escape while you were sleeping.¡± Mia¡¯s expression shifts from confusion to anger in an instant. Her nostrils flare as she processes Luna¡¯s words. ¡°Where the fuck did you think you were going?¡± Mia demands, grabbing my shoulders with bruising force. Her eyes burn with rage as she pulls me back against her chest. She wraps one muscular arm around my waist like a vice, pinning me against her even as I struggle weakly in her grip. Luna watches with a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. ¡°Better keep a closer eye on him,¡± she taunts. ¡°Caterina¡¯s pet is slipperier than he looks.¡± Mia growls low in her throat, tightening her hold until I can barely breathe. ¡°I thought we had an understanding,¡± she says, her voice carrying that dangerous edge I¡¯ve come to dread. The room spins around me as panic and exhaustion crash over me in waves. My body is too broken to fight properly, but I thrash against Mia¡¯s ironclad embrace with what little strength I have left. ¡°You¡¯re not leaving,¡± Mia hisses in my ear. ¡°Not ever.¡± Luna¡¯s laughter fills my ears, drowning out everything else. ¡°What do you think we should do to poor Adam here to dissuade him from trying to escape again?¡± Mia doesn¡¯t hesitate. She leans in, her tongue dragging across my neck to my ear. It feels disgusting. ¡°Mmm, I just those sweet young boys with gap-toothed smiles. So innocent-looking.¡± I start crying again, the tears hot and shameful on my cheeks. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Luna¡¯s eyes light up with manic excitement. ¡°Stay right there! I¡¯ll get the pliers!¡± She skips away, her laughter echoing off the concrete walls. ¡°Please¡­ please, God, no,¡± I whisper as Mia tightens her grip on me. ¡°Stop whining. It won¡¯t be so bad.¡± Chapter 68: Baby Come Back, You Can Blame It All On Me [Maddy¡¯s POV] The surveillance room in the basement of La Reale is silent except for Caterina¡¯s ragged breathing. The blue glow from the monitors casts ghastly shadows across our faces as we stare at the blank screen where, moments ago, Luna¡¯s ¡°gift¡± had played out in high definition. I¡¯ve seen violence. I¡¯ve ordered it, facilitated it, even participated in it. But this... this was something else entirely. My stomach churns as I try to erase the images from my mind. Adam on a bed, screaming as those women took turns with him. His damaged hands twitching uselessly as they violated him. The blood pouring from his mouth when they extracted his front tooth with rusty pliers. The way he sobbed until his voice gave out. Lara sits frozen in the corner, her iPad forgotten on her lap. For once, there¡¯s no manic gleam in her eyes, no inappropriate joke on her lips. She looks shell-shocked, her face drained of all color. ¡°This is my fault,¡± Caterina whispers again, her voice cracking. She kneels on the floor where she collapsed after watching the tooth extraction, her perfect blonde hair hanging in lank strands around her face. ¡°This is my fault.¡± I¡¯ve never seen her like this before. Caterina De Luca, the woman who once had a rival skinned alive for insulting her mother, is broken. Her crimson eyes, usually so sharp and predatory, are vacant with shock and horror. ¡°Boss,¡± I start, my voice sounding strangely hollow in the silent room. ¡°We need to¡­¡± ¡°I SHOULD HAVE PROTECTED HIM!¡± she screams, slamming her fist into the concrete floor with such force that blood spatters across the gray surface. ¡°He trusted me! I was supposed to keep him safe!¡± Her scream jolts Lara out of her stupor. She blinks rapidly, looking around as if suddenly remembering where she is. ¡°We¡¯ll get him back,¡± Lara says, her usual manic energy subdued into something almost normal. ¡°We¡¯ll find that crazy bitch and¡­¡± ¡°And what?¡± Caterina¡¯s head snaps up, her eyes suddenly focusing with terrifying intensity. ¡°What will we do, Lara? Kill her? Torture her? None of that will undo what she¡¯s done to him!¡± She staggers to her feet, swaying slightly before steadying herself against the control panel. Her fingers leave bloody smears on the polished surface. ¡°Every second he¡¯s with her,¡± Caterina continues, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper, ¡°is another second of pain I can never take away from him. Another second where he¡¯s wondering why I haven¡¯t saved him yet.¡± Lara just stares at Caterina, her mouth slightly open but no words coming out. For once, the redhead seems completely at a loss. Caterina¡¯s eyes dart around the room like a cornered animal¡¯s. Her normally perfect appearance is completely undone. Blood smeared across her knuckles, her white suit stained and torn. She looks unhinged in a way I¡¯ve never witnessed before, not even during the worst crises of her career. ¡°Once I get him back, I¡¯m done,¡± she says suddenly, her voice eerily calm compared to her wild appearance. ¡°I¡¯m leaving the game. All of it. The casino, the trafficking, the drugs, it¡¯s over.¡± She runs her bloodied fingers through her disheveled hair, leaving crimson streaks. ¡°I¡¯m taking him on a vacation that will never end.¡± The silence that follows is deafening. Lara and I exchange glances, neither of us sure how to respond to what amounts to the most powerful woman in Boston announcing her retirement in the middle of a personal catastrophe. ¡°Boss,¡± I finally manage, my voice gentle as if talking to someone on a ledge, ¡°maybe we should focus on finding Adam first, and then¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already decided,¡± Caterina cuts me off, her crimson eyes suddenly clear and focused despite her manic state. ¡°I¡¯ve been playing with fire for too long, Maddy. I thought I could have it all, the empire, the power, and him. But I was wrong.¡± Her voice catches. ¡°I was so fucking wrong.¡± She pushes herself away from the control panel, leaving bloody handprints in her wake. With newfound determination, she straightens her ruined suit jacket. ¡°But what about Valentina?¡± Lara blurts out, her manic energy returning as she jumps to her feet. ¡°They fucking killed her! On live TV! We can¡¯t just walk away from that!¡± ¡°SHUT THE FUCK UP!¡± Caterina whirls on Lara, her bloodied fist slamming into the wall beside the redhead¡¯s head. ¡°Look around you! This isn¡¯t about Valentina anymore!¡± The room falls deadly silent as Caterina¡¯s ragged breathing fills the space between us. Her crimson eyes burn with such intensity that Lara actually shrinks back against the wall. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it?¡± Caterina continues, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. ¡°Luna and Isabella teamed up because they hate ME. Not Valentina. ME.¡± She pushes away from the wall, pacing like a caged tiger. ¡°Luna came to me ten years ago begging for help with her pathetic little operation. You know what I did? I fucking gutted her supply chain and laughed while she bled out financially.¡± A bitter laugh escapes her. ¡°And Isabella? That bitch has never forgiven me for what I had Lara do to her precious daughter when they tried stepping onto our territory.¡± Lara¡¯s eyes widen slightly at the mention of her handiwork. ¡°This isn¡¯t about family honor or business,¡± Caterina continues, her voice cracking with emotion. ¡°This is personal. They¡¯re using Adam to destroy me because they know he¡¯s the only thing I truly care about.¡± I watch as Caterina sinks back to her knees, her bloodied hands covering her face. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs that gradually grow louder until they¡¯re tearing through her body like physical pain. ¡°It¡¯s my fault,¡± she wails, rocking back and forth. ¡°I did this to him. I brought him into this life. I should have known better. I should have protected him better.¡± Her cries echo through the surveillance room, bouncing off the concrete walls like a twisted chorus. Lara looks over at me. ¡°Where¡¯s Claire right now?¡± she asks, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. I stare at her blankly. ¡°Who gives a fuck?¡± ***** [Claire¡¯s POV] I¡¯m humming softly as I make my way through the warehouse, following the directions Luna texted me. The industrial building is eerily quiet except for the sound of my sensible flats against the concrete floor and my own voice echoing off the metal walls. ¡°I¡¯m gonna find my hubby. Gonna hold him tight,¡± I sing under my breath . ¡°Gonna grab some afternoon delight...¡± My fingers tap against my thigh in rhythm with the tune as I approach the heavy metal door at the end of the corridor. Luna¡¯s text had been cryptic but exciting. She¡¯d finally gotten Adam away from that psychopath Caterina. My Adam was coming home where he belonged. ¡°My motto¡¯s always been when it¡¯s right, it¡¯s right. Why wait until the middle of a cold, dark night?¡± I reach for the handle, excitement building in my chest. After all this time, after all the fear and waiting and planning, I¡¯d finally have my husband back. We could start over, far away from Boston and all its monsters. ¡°When everything¡¯s a little clearer in the light of day, and we know the night is always gonna be here any¡­¡± sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The words die in my throat as I push open the door, and a wall of stench hits me. Sweat, bodily fluids, and something metallic that makes my stomach turn. The smell of sex and violence so thick I can practically taste it. ¡°Oh my God,¡± I gag, one hand flying to cover my nose and mouth. The room before me is dimly lit, but I can make out enough to wish I couldn¡¯t. A bare mattress stained with substances I don¡¯t want to identify. Chains hanging from a support beam. Discarded syringes and bloody tools scattered across a metal table. And in the center of it all, Adam curled into a fetal position on the filthy mattress. His body is covered in bruises, dried blood caked around his mouth where his front top tooth is visibly missing. His wrists are raw and bloody from restraints, and his eyes... his eyes are open but empty, staring at nothing. ¡°Adam,¡± I whisper, my voice breaking on his name. He doesn¡¯t respond. Doesn¡¯t even blink. A movement in the corner draws my attention. Luna steps out of the shadows, followed by a tall, muscular woman I don¡¯t recognize. The woman¡¯s dark eyes never leave Adam, watching him with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. ¡°What did you do to him?¡± I gasp, horror flooding through me as I take in Adam¡¯s broken state. His vacant stare, his missing tooth, his battered body, this isn¡¯t what I agreed to. Luna shrugs that terrible Hawaiian shirt making her look even more unhinged in the dim warehouse light. ¡°Oh, that,¡± she says casually, waving her hand dismissively. ¡°That¡¯s just to upset Caterina. A little damage to break her spirit before I break her body.¡± My stomach lurches. I¡¯d wanted Adam back, yes. I¡¯d been willing to help Luna locate Caterina, track her movements, even tell her about the race in Monza. But this... this wasn¡¯t part of our deal. ¡°This wasn¡¯t what we agreed to,¡± I whisper, my voice shaking. ¡°You said you¡¯d just take him from her, not... not this.¡± The muscular woman steps closer to Adam, placing a possessive hand on his shoulder. He doesn¡¯t even flinch at her touch, just continues staring at nothing. ¡°Plans change,¡± Luna says with that terrifying smile. ¡°Besides, he¡¯s alive, isn¡¯t he? That¡¯s more than I can say for Valentina De Luca.¡± A cold realization washes over me. I need to get Adam out of here immediately, no matter what. Luna isn¡¯t just a rival businesswoman with a grudge. She¡¯s a monster who killed someone on international television. I force myself to nod, swallowing down my revulsion. ¡°Okay, well, I¡¯ll be taking him then.¡± I try to keep my voice steady and professional, like this is just a business transaction being completed. Luna¡¯s smile widens, showing too many teeth. ¡°About that,¡± she says, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. ¡°There¡¯s been a slight change of plans.¡± My heart sinks as the other woman steps forward, her muscular frame blocking my path to Adam. She reaches behind her back and pulls out a massive wrench, the metal gleaming dully in the warehouse¡¯s dim light. ¡°You see, Claire,¡± Luna continues, circling me like a shark, ¡°you¡¯re my only loose end. And I recently discovered something very interesting about you.¡± I take an instinctive step backward. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°Three of my girls,¡± Luna says, her voice hardening. ¡°They paid you thirty thousand dollars to fuck your husband. And then they ended up dead.¡± Ice floods my veins. ¡°I didn¡¯t kill them,¡± I protest, my voice rising in panic. ¡°I swear I didn¡¯t! It was Lara!¡± Luna shrugs, her Hawaiian shirt rippling with the movement. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Before I can react, the strong woman swings the wrench. Pain explodes through my skull as metal connects with bone. The warehouse tilts sideways, concrete rushing up to meet me as darkness swallows everything. A/N: Chapter 69: Tony! Toni! Toné! [Adam¡¯s POV] The past few days blur together in a haze of pain and violation. My body isn¡¯t mine anymore. It¡¯s just something they use whenever they want. I¡¯ve lost track of how many times they¡¯ve forced themselves on me. The only constant is Mia, always watching, always reclaiming me afterward like I¡¯m her favorite toy that she reluctantly shares. I¡¯m lying on the filthy mattress, drifting in and out of consciousness, when unfamiliar voices pull me back to my nightmare reality. My eyes flutter open, vision blurry and unfocused. Two new figures stand at the foot of the mattress, staring down at me. As my sight clears, I recognize Isabella Moretti, her silver-streaked dark hair perfectly styled despite the warehouse¡¯s grime. Beside her stands Tony, his shoulders hunched, eyes downcast, looking like he¡¯d rather be anywhere else. Behind them, Luna leans against the wall, that Hawaiian shirt as garish as ever. Mia hovers nearby, her muscular frame tense, dark eyes darting between Isabella and me with barely concealed anxiety. ¡°When I heard Caterina took on a lover, I was surprised. But he seems so ordinary,¡± Isabella says, her jade-green eyes scanning my naked, battered body with clinical detachment. ¡°Caterina always did have unconventional taste.¡± I try to curl into myself, to hide from her assessing gaze, but my muscles won¡¯t cooperate. My wrists are raw and bloody from the restraints they put on me between sessions sometimes. Mia steps forward, positioning herself slightly between me and Isabella. Her posture screams possession, like a dog guarding a bone it¡¯s not done with. ¡°We¡¯ve been keeping him entertained,¡± Luna says with that terrible smile. ¡°Haven¡¯t we, Adam?¡± I don¡¯t respond. Can¡¯t respond. My throat is too raw from screaming, and my missing front tooth makes my mouth throb with every heartbeat. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Isabella turns to Luna and Mia, her voice cool and commanding. ¡°Do you mind if we have a minute alone with him?¡± Mia¡¯s face darkens immediately. Her hands clench into fists at her sides as she glances between Isabella and me. ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­¡± she starts, but Luna cuts her off. ¡°No problem at all,¡± Luna says cheerfully, grabbing Mia¡¯s arm. ¡°Come on, Mia. Let¡¯s give them some privacy.¡± Mia hesitates, her dark eyes lingering on me with that possessive intensity that¡¯s become terrifyingly familiar. I can read the reluctance in every line of her body. ¡°He¡¯s not going anywhere,¡± Luna adds, her grip tightening on Mia¡¯s arm. ¡°And neither is Isabella.¡± Finally, Mia allows herself to be pulled away, though she keeps looking over her shoulder until the warehouse door slams shut behind them. The sudden quiet feels almost as oppressive as Luna¡¯s constant threats. Tony approaches slowly, his eyes darting nervously over my exposed body. He winces at the bruises covering my skin, the dried blood around my mouth where my tooth was extracted. His gaze lingers on my damaged hands. ¡°Mother, this is too far for someone roped into Caterina¡¯s life by force,¡± he says quietly, his voice shaking slightly. ¡°He didn¡¯t choose this.¡± Isabella steps closer, bending down to grab my face. Her green eyes bore into mine, searching for something I don¡¯t understand ¡°Yes, this is just sad,¡± she murmurs, her Southern accent thickening with what almost sounds like genuine sympathy. ¡°Help me,¡± I croak, the words scraping against my raw throat. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve spoken in days that wasn¡¯t a scream or a sob. Tony sighs, his frown deepening as he turns to Isabella. ¡°Mother, if Luna so easily did something like this to get revenge on Caterina, think what she could do to me in the future when you¡¯re not around to protect me. Even if it¡¯s half as bad as this it¡¯d still be a fate worse than death.¡± Isabella releases my face, straightening up with a thoughtful expression. ¡°I was already thinking about that, Tony. Luna¡¯s becoming a liability.¡± Tony glances at me, then back to his mother. ¡°Maybe we can offer Luna to Caterina.¡± ¡°Caterina won¡¯t play ball,¡± Isabella replies sharply. ¡°And plus, she killed your sister.¡± Tony speaks, his voice suddenly stronger than before. ¡°Mother, Angelica stepped out of line on her own.¡± Isabella¡¯s jade eyes flash dangerously. ¡°Still, to ship her back to me in pieces was unforgivable.¡± Tony steps closer to his mother, glancing at me with something almost like compassion. ¡°Mother,¡± he says softly, ¡°don¡¯t do it for Caterina. Do it for me.¡± Isabella stares at her son for a long moment, then shakes her head with a sigh. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll make the call later. But if she doesn¡¯t want to give up her operation for his location, it¡¯s war.¡± Tony nods. ¡°Fine.¡± He turns to me, his thin shoulders no longer quite so hunched. ¡°Hang in there, buddy,¡± he says quietly. I stare at him in disbelief. ¡°You were nice all along?¡± He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask to be born into the mafia.¡± Despite everything, curiosity bubbles up through my haze of pain. ¡°Why were you so afraid of Caterina then? When you were married?¡± Tony¡¯s face contorts in a grimace. ¡°She looks scary.¡± I scoff and rest my head back down on the filthy mattress. Even now, battered and broken, the absurdity isn¡¯t lost on me. ¡°At least she¡¯s scary in the good way.¡± I correct him. ***** [Claire¡¯s POV] ¡®My head hurts. God, it hurts so much.¡¯ I peel my eyes open, wincing as harsh fluorescent light sends daggers through my skull. The concrete floor beneath me is cold and damp, seeping through my clothes. I try to sit up and immediately regret it as nausea rolls through me in waves. ¡°Where...?¡± I mumble, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. As my vision clears, I realize I¡¯m in some sort of cell. Metal bars surround me on three sides, with a concrete wall at my back. My fingers probe gently at my temple, coming away sticky with blood. Movement draws my attention to the cell adjacent to mine. I blink in confusion. Money. Stacks and stacks of cash piled high in neat columns. Must be millions of dollars. The bills are arranged methodically, deep in the cell and tantalizingly unreachable unless someone unlocks the door. The sound of footsteps echoes through the space. I try to push myself up straighter, ignoring the throbbing in my head. A tall, muscular woman approaches my cell. Recognition flashes through me. She¡¯s the one who hit me with the wrench. Her scarred knuckles flex as she regards me, her expression unreadable. ¡°Oh good, you¡¯re finally awake,¡± she says, her voice carrying an unexpected gentleness. ¡°I was worried I killed you with the wrench.¡± I don¡¯t say anything. Just stare at her as she unlocks my cell door and steps inside. She crouches down to my level, studying me with those dark, intense eyes. ¡°I¡¯m Mia,¡± she says simply. I swallow hard, my mouth dry as sandpaper. ¡°Okay, Mia. Why didn¡¯t you kill me?¡± A small smile plays across her lips. ¡°I found out you¡¯re the reason I ended up with Adam, so I felt a little grateful. And the women you got killed were honestly no good anyways.¡± My head spins, trying to make sense of her words. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± Mia reaches out, tucking a strand of blood-matted hair behind my ear with surprising gentleness. ¡°You sold Adam to Caterina. Then you made a deal with Luna to get Adam back, right? Your information helped us take him from Caterina.¡± She shrugs. ¡°Now I have him.¡± ¡°Where is he?¡± I ask, my voice cracking. The memory of Adam¡¯s broken body on that filthy mattress flashes through my mind. ¡°Safe,¡± Mia says, her eyes hardening slightly. ¡°He¡¯s mine now.¡± Mia studies me for a moment, her dark eyes calculating. Her voice drops to a whisper. ¡°Look, once Caterina is dead, I¡¯ll let you go, alright? Boss will hate it and if you say shit, you¡¯ll end up dead.¡± I consider my options, which seem nonexistent at this point. My head throbs with each heartbeat, blood still sticky on my temple. Adam is broken beyond recognition. I¡¯m locked in a cell. And this terrifying woman is offering me a lifeline, however slim. I think to myself how badly I want to live. To walk away from this nightmare and never look back. ¡°Okay,¡± I whisper, the word feeling like surrender. Mia nods, a small smile playing at her lips. ¡°Good. I¡¯m glad we understand each other.¡± She stands, towering over me like a colossus. ¡°Luna¡¯s plan is moving forward soon.¡± ¡°What about Adam?¡± I ask, my voice small and pathetic, even to my own ears. Mia¡¯s expression darkens. ¡°He stays with me. That wasn¡¯t part of our deal.¡± ¡°He needs medical attention,¡± I protest weakly. ¡°His tooth, his hands...¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take care of him,¡± she snaps, suddenly defensive. ¡°I¡¯ve been taking care of him all along.¡± I bite back a retort about her version of ¡°care¡± that would likely get me killed. Instead, I nod meekly, eyes downcast. ¡°Hey, brighten up!¡± Mia exclaims, slapping my back with such force I nearly topple over. The aggressive friendliness of it makes me flinch. ¡°You get to live another day, right? That¡¯s a big deal.¡± I steady myself against the cell wall, trying not to show how much her friendly pat hurt my already-aching body. ¡°Anyways,¡± she continues cheerfully, ¡°thanks for bringing me your husband. I really think he¡¯s the one for me.¡± The smile she gives me is warm, genuine, and absolutely terrifying. There¡¯s something deeply unsettling about the way her eyes light up when she talks about Adam, like he¡¯s a prized possession she¡¯s been hunting for years. She backs out of the cell, closing the door with a metallic clang that echoes through the warehouse. The lock clicks into place with chilling finality. I sigh, sliding down the wall until I¡¯m sitting on the cold concrete floor. My head throbs where she hit me with the wrench, and hopelessness washes over me in waves. ¡®What have I done? I¡¯ve traded Adam from one monster to another, and now we¡¯re both trapped.¡¯ ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Adam. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to save you.¡± Chapter 70: Lunar Landing [Adam¡¯s Pov] Mia¡¯s strong hands move over my body, washing me with an intensity that feels more like preparation than cleaning. The warm water cascades over us both, steam filling the small shower stall. My body is on autopilot, responding to her touch with learned compliance while my mind drifts somewhere far away. I¡¯ve lost track of how long I¡¯ve been here. The days blur together in an endless cycle of heroin, rape, and Mia¡¯s possessive affection. The empty socket where my front tooth used to be has stopped throbbing constantly, the taste of copper gradually fading to something less immediate. It¡¯s become just another part of my new reality. Mia¡¯s hands pause on my shoulders, her fingers digging in a little too hard. I glance up at her face and notice something, nervousness. Her usual confident demeanor has cracks in it today, her dark eyes darting around as she scrubs me. ¡°So, uhh, Adam,¡± she says, her voice trying to be casual but missing by a mile. ¡°Boss decided she wanted to have a taste, too, okay?¡± I blink slowly, the words taking too long to process through the fresh dose of heroin she gave me before the shower. My thoughts are sluggish, floating like debris in molasses. ¡°Do I have to get it up on my own?¡± I ask, my voice flat and hollow. ¡°No, no,¡± Mia rushes to reassure me, shaking her head. Her wet hair sends droplets flying. ¡°Look, Adam, Luna is kind of crazy, okay? You need to be careful.¡± Something about her tone penetrates the drug haze. She¡¯s genuinely worried about something Luna might do. ¡®Mia is so similar to Caterina. But she¡¯s possessive in all the wrong ways. At least Caterina made me happy as long as I followed the rules. And the sex always felt like connecting with my soulmate. With Mia, I just feel like a human dildo.¡¯ ¡°I¡¯ll just keep my mouth shut then,¡± I mutter, staring at the shower drain as water swirls down it. Mia sighs nervously, her hands resuming their work on my body. ¡°Hopefully, she won¡¯t make you talk.¡± The water shuts off abruptly. Mia helps me out of the shower with that disturbing mix of tenderness and ownership that makes my skin crawl. She dries me carefully, paying special attention to the fresh bruises that bloom across my ribs and thighs. ¡°I got you some clothes,¡± she says, retrieving a bundle from a nearby shelf. ¡°Actual clothes, not just boxers.¡± Mia unfolds the clothes, revealing a crisp white dress shirt and dark pants, complete with a silk tie. I stare at them blankly, wondering about the sudden formality. ¡°Luna wants you looking presentable,¡± she explains, her voice tight with tension as she helps me into the shirt. Her fingers work the buttons with practiced ease, dressing me like I¡¯m her personal doll. Each movement is efficient yet possessive, smoothing the fabric across my chest, adjusting the collar around my neck. The pants come next, Mia kneeling to guide my feet through the legs, pulling them up and fastening them at my waist. She retrieves the tie, looping it around my collar and knotting it with meticulous care. The whole time, my damaged hands hang uselessly at my sides, dead weight attached to arms that barely feel like my own anymore. I stand there, dressed like a corporate puppet, feeling absolutely nothing. All this shit has hollowed me out completely, leaving just an empty shell where a person used to be. Even fear seems distant now, a concept rather than an emotion. Mia steps back to examine her handiwork, her dark eyes clouded with worry. She reaches up to smooth my hair, her touch lingering a moment too long on my cheek. ¡°I don¡¯t know if she¡¯ll hurt you,¡± she whispers, her voice barely audible. ¡°Please don¡¯t provoke her, Adam. For your sake and mine.¡± I stare at her, really looking at her for perhaps the first time since my capture. This woman who violated me repeatedly, who holds me prisoner, who treats me like property, now stands before me, trembling with fear for what her boss might do. Something inside me cracks, a final fracture in whatever remained of my spirit. ¡°I genuinely hope,¡± I whisper, my voice hoarse from disuse, ¡°that someday you feel even a fraction of the pain and terror you¡¯ve put me through.¡± The words hang in the air between us, sharp and unexpected. Mia¡¯s face transforms instantly, her eyes widening before narrowing with rage. Her hand moves in a blur, connecting with my cheek in a slap so hard my head snaps sideways. ¡°Shut the fuck up,¡± she hisses, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at her. ¡°You have no idea how hard I¡¯m working to keep you as comfortable as possible.¡± I say nothing. No tears come. No angry retorts. Just quiet acceptance washing over me like a wave, drowning whatever spark had momentarily flickered to life. Mia releases my face, her breathing heavy with barely contained fury. ¡°She¡¯s waiting,¡± she mutters, grabbing my elbow and steering me toward the door. Mia¡¯s grip on my elbow is painful as she marches me down a dimly lit hallway I¡¯ve never seen before. We pass several doors, all industrial metal with heavy locks, before stopping at one that looks slightly different, newer, with a keypad instead of a traditional lock. She punches in a code, her fingers trembling slightly, and pushes the door open without a word. The contrast between this room and the rest of the warehouse is jarring. While everything else has been concrete floors and exposed pipes, this space looks almost livable. The floor has actual carpeting, plush and dark red. Computer monitors line one wall, their screens displaying different news channels. Glass cabinets filled with vials and bottles of various colors stand against another wall. The centerpiece of the room is a massive bed with silk sheets, incongruously luxurious amid the technological clutter. Luna sits cross-legged on the bed, still wearing that ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, thumbing through her phone with casual indifference. She looks up as we enter, her green eyes gleaming with predatory delight. ¡°Ah, right on time!¡± she exclaims, setting her phone aside. Her gaze travels over me, lingering on my missing tooth and the bruises visible at my collar. ¡°Don¡¯t you clean up nice?¡± Mia¡¯s grip on my elbow tightens momentarily before she forces herself to release me. ¡°He¡¯s been cooperative,¡± she says stiffly, her voice betraying her reluctance. Luna¡¯s smile widens into something cruel and mocking. ¡°Thank you so much, Mia,¡± she purrs, her eyes never leaving my face. ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of your pet.¡± sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I can feel Mia¡¯s hesitation, the way she hovers for a moment too long. But she simply nods, backing toward the door without another word. The click of the lock as it shuts behind her sounds like a death sentence. Luna rises from the bed with feline grace, circling me slowly. ¡°Look at you,¡± she murmurs, reaching out to straighten my tie. ¡°All dressed up like a proper gentleman.¡± I say nothing, my eyes fixed on a point over her shoulder. She takes my arm, her touch surprisingly gentle as she guides me toward the bed. I follow without resistance, my body too drained to fight anymore. The mattress sinks beneath my weight as I sit on the edge. Luna moves to one of the glass cabinets, sliding it open and selecting a small vial containing blue pills. She shakes one into her palm and returns to stand before me. ¡°Open up,¡± she commands, holding the pill between her thumb and forefinger. I open my mouth automatically, letting her place the small blue pill on my tongue. I swallow it dry, the pill scraping down my throat. ¡°You¡¯re pretty high on heroin right now, right?¡± Luna asks, studying my face with those unsettling green eyes. ¡°Yeah,¡± I mutter, my voice flat. She tilts her head, considering me. ¡°Do you like Molly?¡± I shrug weakly. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Luna grimaces, turning back to her cabinet of drugs. She rummages through the vials, finally selecting another pill¡ªthis one smaller than the first. ¡°I want you to take this too,¡± she says, returning to stand before me. ¡°Okay,¡± I agree, too broken to care. ¡®Maybe I¡¯ll get lucky and this combo will kill me.¡¯ She pops the second pill into my mouth, watching with satisfaction as I swallow it. Her eyes travel over my suit, a strange expression crossing her face. ¡°You¡¯re wearing a suit that looks just like my husband¡¯s on our wedding day,¡± she says, her voice taking on an odd, nostalgic tone. My brain takes a moment to process her words. ¡°Tony?¡± Luna nods, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. ¡°Yeah, Isabella had us get married so we could combine our organizations. But I¡¯ve hardly ever talked to him other than our pre-planned appearances.¡± She moves closer, her body pressing against mine as she leans in. Her lips brush against my neck, the contact sending an unwelcome shiver through me. ¡°It¡¯s kind of lonely to never get to make love with your husband,¡± she whispers against my skin. ¡°Don¡¯t you think?¡± I try to answer, but something strange is happening to my body. A warm, tingling sensation begins in my fingertips, spreading up my arms and through my chest. Colors suddenly seem brighter, more vivid. Luna¡¯s Hawaiian shirt transforms from merely gaudy to hypnotically beautiful, each pattern swirling and pulsating with impossible depth. The molly is kicking in. It feels surprisingly familiar. Luna¡¯s face blurs and shifts before me, her features becoming impossibly beautiful in the drug-induced cloud. She stares directly into my eyes, her gaze penetrating the fog in my brain. ¡°Let me treat you like my husband tonight, okay?¡± she whispers, her words echoing strangely in my ears. I remain silent, unable to form words as my mind drifts to Caterina. ¡®God, I miss her.¡¯ The way she¡¯d look at me with those crimson eyes. How she¡¯d touch me with that perfect blend of possession and tenderness. Even her violence had purpose, had boundaries. Not this endless nightmare of random cruelty. A tear escapes, sliding down my cheek before I can stop it. The drugs amplify everything to an unbearable intensity. Luna catches the tear with her thumb, wiping it away with surprising gentleness. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she murmurs, her voice suddenly soft. ¡°I always wanted my husband to cry on our first night anyway.¡± Her fingers move to my tie, slowly working the knot loose. The silk slides against my collar with a whisper that sounds impossibly loud to my drug-enhanced senses. Despite my emotional distress, my body betrays me, my cock painfully hard from whatever was in that first pill. ¡°You¡¯re so responsive,¡± Luna observes, her eyes flickering down to the obvious bulge in my pants. Luna¡¯s fingers dart to my shirt buttons with unexpected urgency, her earlier gentleness evaporating like morning dew. With a sudden, violent motion, she grips both sides of my crisp white shirt and tears it open. The buttons make tiny popping sounds as they fly across the room, pinging against the walls and skittering across the floor like scattered raindrops. ¡°Look at you,¡± she breathes, her pupils dilating until her green eyes are nearly black. The hunger in her gaze reminds me of a predator eyeing wounded prey. ¡°So perfect.¡± The cool air against my newly exposed chest feels like ice crystals forming on my skin. Luna¡¯s breath, hot and minty, burns like fire everywhere it touches. Before I can process what¡¯s happening, she shoves me backward onto the silk sheets. My body bounces slightly on the mattress, helpless and unresisting, as she climbs on top of me with fluid, practiced movements. Her thighs bracket my hips, pinning me in place as effectively as any restraints. ¡°I¡¯ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you,¡± Luna purrs, lowering her face to mine. Her lips crash against mine, her tongue immediately pushing past my teeth to explore my mouth. She tastes like cigarettes and something chemically sweet, perhaps the same drugs coursing through my system. Her tongue probes the empty socket where my front tooth used to be, and I stifle a gag, my damaged hands twitching uselessly at my sides. I try to turn my head away, but Luna grabs my hair, yanking it painfully to hold me in place as she deepens the kiss. Her other hand slides down my exposed chest, nails leaving faint red trails across my skin. ¡°Mmm,¡± she moans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through my skull like an unwanted echo. ¡°You taste so fucking good.¡± The drugs in my system have my body responding despite my revulsion. My cock strains against my pants, and Luna grinds against it with obvious delight. The friction sends unwanted pleasure shooting up my spine, making me whimper pathetically. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± she whispers, her lips moving from my mouth to my neck. ¡°Let me hear you.¡± Her teeth sink into the sensitive skin below my ear, not quite hard enough to break the skin but definitely hard enough to leave marks. Luna¡¯s hands move with savage expertise, tearing at my pants until they¡¯re nothing left around my ankles. The sudden freedom sends blood rushing to my already painfully hard cock, and she lets out a low, triumphant laugh as she grinds against me. Her fingers reach for the buttons of her Hawaiian shirt, flicking them open with practiced ease. The garish fabric falls away to reveal flawless skin stretched over lean muscle, her breasts full and perfect in a way that makes my heart clench with unwanted desire. I shut my eyes against the sight, but it¡¯s impossible to block out the feeling of her body pressing down on mine, the heat of her skin searing into me. She positions herself over me, one hand guiding my cock to her pussy as she lowers herself onto me with a shuddering breath. ¡°Fuck,¡± she gasps, her head thrown back as she takes me in completely. ¡°I knew you¡¯d feel this good.¡± The drugs make everything feel too intense, every sensation amplified until it¡¯s almost unbearable. Her tightness around me sends shockwaves through my body, pleasure, and despair mingling until I can¡¯t tell them apart anymore. Luna rides me with brutal intensity, her hips slamming down hard enough to bruise. Each thrust sends waves of unwanted pleasure crashing through me. I gasp beneath her. ¡°Yes,¡± she moans, her nails digging into my chest as she uses me like a toy. ¡°Just like that.¡± Her pace is relentless, each movement calculated to drive me closer to the edge. The world spins around me in a kaleidoscope of color and sensation, Luna¡¯s voice echoing in my ears like a taunt. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back,¡± she purrs, leaning down to bite my neck. ¡°I know you love it.¡± The pressure builds inside me with terrifying speed, my body responding to her assault with humiliating eagerness. I can¡¯t stop it, can¡¯t fight it. My damaged hands clench uselessly at the sheets as I cum inside her, my cries muffled against her skin. Luna shudders above me, moaning loudly as she cums in time with my release. Her entire body trembles with satisfaction, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she rides out her orgasm on top of me. Slowly, she comes back to herself, her eyes gleaming with triumph as she looks down at my spent form. ¡°See?¡± she whispers, stroking my cheek with mock tenderness. ¡°That wasn¡¯t so bad.¡± Tears sting my eyes as the pure horror of my life once again sets in. ¡®My life is over.¡¯ Luna¡¯s laughter fills the room, echoing off the walls like a taunt. She doesn¡¯t give me a moment to recover. My cock stays hard inside her, the blue pill working its cruel magic. I bite my lip to stifle the pathetic sounds escaping me, tears streaming down my face as she rides me with relentless intensity. Luna sees them and laughs, her voice sharp and mocking. ¡°Poor baby,¡± she coos, her nails raking across my chest. I can¡¯t stop the sob that escapes my throat as she uses me. Again and again, these women rape me endlessly. Each orgasm wrung from my body more degrading than the last. A hell I once wished for. ¡®Just kill me god. Let me die.¡¯ ¡°Look at you,¡± Luna gasps, her movements frantic and wild. ¡°You love this, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Please just let me go.¡± I plead. ¡°Over my dead body.¡± Luna laughs as she squeezes my cock tighter. Chapter 71: Jolly Roger (Bay) We lie there, Luna half on top of me, her breath gradually slowing as she comes down from her high. I¡¯m completely spent, used up, hollow. She fucked me for what felt like hours, riding me like a mechanical bull, demanding more when I had nothing left to give. Yet, for all her animal-like ferocity, she never once struck me. No slaps, no punches, no kicks. Unlike Mia and the others, Luna¡¯s violence was purely sexual, which is weirdly inconsistent with everything else I¡¯ve seen from her. Luna shifts against me, her eyes heavy-lidded as she glances my way. ¡°See yourself out, yeah?¡± she mumbles, already half-asleep, naked and covered in my cum. I stare at her for a moment, processing her words. Is this some kind of test? A trap? She doesn¡¯t move again, her breathing deepening as she drifts off. I slowly push myself up, my entire body aching with the effort. I look down at my useless, damaged hands, still curled into their permanent, claw-like position. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll use my elbows or something,¡± I mutter to myself. I don¡¯t bother trying to gather my shredded clothes. There¡¯s no point, I can¡¯t dress myself alone anyway, and Luna destroyed most of them in her frenzy. Instead, I stand naked, swaying slightly as the cocktail of drugs in my system makes the room tilt and sway around me. As I stumble toward the door, something catches my eye on a small table near the exit. A bottle of pills sits on a counter, the container marked with a crudely drawn skull and crossbones. My heart skips a beat as I glance back at Luna, who¡¯s now completely unconscious, sprawled across her silk sheets. I move closer to the pills, examining them without touching. They¡¯re small and white, innocuous-looking despite their ominous warning label. Something powerful enough to kill, sitting right here within reach. I stare at Luna for a long moment, my mind racing despite the drug haze. ¡°Maybe...¡± I whisper, hardly daring to hope. With a quick motion, I dip my head and use my tongue to pick up one of the pills, carefully tucking it into the space between my gum and inner cheek. The bitter taste immediately floods my mouth, but I ignore it, focusing on keeping my expression neutral in case Luna is watching through half-closed eyes. ¡®Maybe I can use this to escape.¡¯ I wonder inwardly. ¡®Am I really ready to take my own life?¡¯ I push the door open with my elbow and step into the hallway, my heart pounding with renewed purpose. The pill sits heavy against my cheek, a secret weapon I¡¯ve managed to acquire. I shuffle down the dim corridor, naked and disoriented, the pill tucked safely in my cheek. Every step sends pain shooting through my abused body. The drugs Luna gave me are wearing off, leaving me shaky and nauseated as I navigate back to Mia¡¯s quarters. When I finally reach her door, I push it open with my shoulder to find the room bathed in darkness. The only sound is Mia¡¯s heavy snoring, a rhythmic rumble that fills the space. My eyes adjust slowly, making out her muscular form sprawled across the mattress, one arm flung wide as if waiting to trap me against her. I stumble toward the bed, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. As I awkwardly climb onto the mattress, trying to avoid waking Mia, my foot catches on the edge. I pitch forward, losing my balance completely. The sudden movement dislodges the pill from its hiding place. It slips to the back of my throat, and I gasp reflexively, sucking it deeper. Panic surges through me as I begin to choke, my airway suddenly blocked. ¡®This is it,¡¯ I think wildly, my body convulsing as I fight for breath. ¡®This is how I die. Choking on a pill I wanted to take to kill myself.¡¯ My lungs burn, desperate for air. I¡¯m making horrible gagging sounds now, my body jerking violently. In my panic, I fall forward, directly onto Mia¡¯s sleeping form. The impact forces a violent cough from my lungs. The pill shoots from my throat like a bullet directly into Mia¡¯s open, snoring mouth. My eyes widen in horror and disbelief as I watch her unconsciously swallow, her throat working on instinct. She coughs lightly, her body processing the foreign object, but it goes down. ¡®Oh my god.¡¯ I freeze, hardly daring to breathe as Mia¡¯s eyes flutter open. She blinks groggily, focusing on my face hovering above hers. ¡°Oh hey,¡± she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. She inspects me for a moment, then sighs deeply. ¡°Want to go shower?¡± I stare at her, unable to process what¡¯s happening. The pill marked with a skull and crossbones is now inside her. Not me. Her. ¡°Um, yeah,¡± I manage, my voice a hoarse whisper. ¡°A shower would be good.¡± Mia sits up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She looks completely normal, showing no signs of distress or discomfort. Whatever that pill was, it¡¯s not acting immediately. Mia stands up, stretching her muscular arms above her head. ¡°Let¡¯s get you cleaned up,¡± she says, her voice still thick with sleep. She doesn¡¯t seem to notice anything unusual, no indication that she just swallowed something potentially lethal. She helps me to the shower, supporting most of my weight as we move across the cold concrete floor. The water is almost scalding as it hits my skin, but I barely register the pain anymore. Mia¡¯s hands move over my body, washing away Luna¡¯s scent and the evidence of what she did to me. ¡°Did she hurt you?¡± Mia asks, her fingers gentle as they probe for new injuries. I shake my head slightly. ¡°Just... used me.¡± Mia nods, her jaw tightening. ¡°That¡¯s good. That¡¯s... that¡¯s good.¡± Her movements seem slower than usual, her coordination slightly off as she rinses the soap from my skin. Is the pill affecting her already? I watch her carefully, looking for any sign that something¡¯s wrong. When she turns off the water, I try to step out of the shower, but my legs buckle beneath me. The withdrawal is starting to hit, my muscles protesting every movement as tremors run through my body. ¡°Whoa there,¡± Mia says, catching me before I can fall. Without hesitation, she scoops me into her arms, cradling me against her chest like I weigh nothing at all. ¡°I¡¯ve got you.¡± The position makes me feel small and vulnerable, my naked body pressed against hers as she carries me back to the mattress. She lays me down gently on the bed, her movements more sluggish now. A thin sheen of sweat has broken out on her forehead, and her breathing seems slightly labored. A violent shudder runs through me, my teeth beginning to chatter as the familiar symptoms of withdrawal take hold. My skin crawls with invisible insects, my stomach clenching painfully. ¡°Mia,¡± I whisper, hating myself for asking, ¡°do you think I could get a small hit for bed?¡± She studies me for a moment, then nods. ¡°You survived, Luna, so sure.¡± Mia moves to the small table beside the mattress, retrieving a syringe and a rubber tourniquet. Her hands tremble slightly as she ties off my arm, her movements less precise than usual. The vein stands out blue against my pale skin as she taps it with her finger. ¡°Hold still,¡± she murmurs, sliding the needle in with practiced ease despite her increasingly unsteady hands. The heroin floods my system, warm relief washing over me in waves. My eyelids grow heavy as the drug takes effect, my body sinking deeper into the mattress. Mia caps the needle and sets it aside, her movements slow and deliberate. Mia stands up abruptly. Her movement seems slightly off, but she steadies herself against the wall. ¡°I¡¯m wide awake, so sleep tight alone,¡± she says, wiping sweat from her brow. ¡°I¡¯m gonna do some work.¡± She leans down and kisses my forehead, her lips burning hot against my skin. I hate the casual intimacy of it, the way she treats me like I belong to her. I say nothing, just stare at the ceiling with vacant eyes. Mia pulls back, studying my face for a moment before turning away. She heads out of the room, her steps a bit uneven but mostly normal. The door clicks shut behind her. As I drift off to sleep watching the sun come up, one thought rings in my mind. ¡®It¡¯s not fair she got to take it, and I didn¡¯t.¡¯ ***** [Claire¡¯s POV] The cold concrete floor has become my bed, my back aching from another night spent curled up against the wall of my cell. I¡¯ve lost track of how many days I¡¯ve been here, watching that pile of money in the adjacent cell like it¡¯s mocking me. My head feels a little better, finally. I jolt awake at the sound of footsteps approaching. Heavy boots on concrete, moving with purpose. My heart races as I push myself up to a sitting position, wincing at the stiffness in my joints. The metal door to the holding area swings open, and Mia¡¯s muscular frame appears in the doorway. She¡¯s carrying a tray of food, the steam rising from what looks like oatmeal and coffee. Her face seems different somehow, pale and slightly sweaty despite the early hour. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m up, so I figured I¡¯d bring you breakfast,¡± she calls out, her voice oddly strained as she approaches my cell. I rub the sleep from my eyes, trying to gauge her mood. Sometimes, she¡¯s almost friendly, other times coldly professional. ¡°What time is it?¡± ¡°Six,¡± she replies, fumbling with the keys to my cell. Something¡¯s definitely off about her. Her movements are sluggish, uncoordinated. As she unlocks the door, her hand trembles visibly, the keys jingling against the metal. Suddenly, Mia doubles over, the food tray tilting dangerously in her hands. A violent retching sound escapes her throat, followed by a spray of bright red blood that splatters across the concrete floor. The tray crashes down, sending oatmeal and coffee flying everywhere. Mia staggers backward, her eyes wide with shock. She then whips forward like she¡¯s trying to correct herself. Her head smashes into the metal bars of my cell as she falls. I hear a sickening crack that echoes through the warehouse. The impact is so violent that her skull actually splits open, blood and gray matter oozing out of the fracture. She crumples to the ground outside my cell, twitching spasmodically as blood pools beneath her head. ¡°Oh my God, what the fuck?!¡± I scream, scrambling backward until my back hits the concrete wall. Mia¡¯s body continues to convulse, her eyes rolling back in her head as more blood gushes from her mouth and nose. The keys she was holding clatter to the ground, perfectly within reach. I stare in horrified fascination as her movements gradually slow, then stop altogether. The pool of blood continues to spread, inching toward my cell like a crimson tide. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I whisper, my voice trembling. ¡°She¡¯s dead. She¡¯s actually dead.¡± The silence feels heavy, oppressive, broken only by the wet gurgle of blood still seeping from Mia¡¯s shattered skull. I need to move, but I¡¯m frozen, eyes locked on her lifeless body. ¡°Claire, snap out of it,¡± I whisper to myself, forcing my trembling legs to move. I reach through the bars, fingers stretching toward the keys lying in the growing pool of blood. My fingertips brush cold metal, and I manage to hook one finger through the ring. The keys come sliding toward me, leaving a trail through the crimson puddle. I stare at the blood-slicked keys in my palm, then glance nervously toward the door. The warehouse remains eerily silent. No alarms, no running footsteps, nothing to indicate anyone heard Mia¡¯s violent death. My fingers fumble with the keys, trying each one until I find the one that fits my cell. The lock clicks open with a sound that seems deafening in the quiet space. I push the door open slowly, wincing at the slight creak of metal hinges. Stepping over Mia¡¯s body makes bile rise in my throat, but I force myself forward. I crouch beside her, my stomach churning as I reach into her pocket. My fingers close around a set of car keys, and I pull them free, wiping them on my shirt to remove the blood. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I whisper automatically, though I¡¯m not sure why I¡¯m apologizing to a woman who helped kidnap and torture my husband. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. My eyes drift to the other cell, the one filled with stacks of cash. The money sits there, tantalizingly close, more money than I¡¯ve ever seen in my life. ¡°I couldn¡¯t possibly...¡± I start, then spot the key on the ring that looks different from the others, newer, shinier. ¡°But I might as well.¡± The key slides into the lock of the money cell with perfect ease. As the door swings open, I stare at the stacks of bills in disbelief. There must be millions here. I look around frantically, spotting two backpacks hanging on hooks near the door. I grab them, my movements becoming more urgent as adrenaline courses through my system. ¡°This is insane,¡± I mutter, but my hands are already stuffing stacks of cash into the backpacks. I work methodically, filling both bags until they¡¯re bulging with more money than I can even attempt to count. The weight of the backpacks is substantial as I sling them over my shoulders. My thoughts turn to Adam, somewhere in this building, broken and abused. ¡°I need to save him,¡± I whisper, peering nervously toward the door that leads to the main warehouse. ¡°But if I go into the main room, I¡¯ll get noticed for sure.¡± My gaze falls on a metal door at the far end of the holding area, partially hidden behind some storage crates. It¡¯s different from the main entrance, heavier, with reinforced hinges and what looks like a panic bar. ¡°That must be an emergency exit,¡± I whisper, hope surging through me. I hurry toward it, backpacks slapping against my back with each step. As I pass a small table near the exit, I spot my phone lying there, somehow overlooked when they took my possessions. ¡°Thank God,¡± I breathe, snatching it up. I turn it on, the screen illuminating my blood-spattered face. No service bars appear in the corner. ¡°Shit,¡± I sigh, pocketing it anyway. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll just call Caterina when I figure out where the hell I am.¡± I decide to just chance it, and after unlocking the locked door from the inside, I push against the panic bar. The door swings open with a surprisingly quiet hiss of hydraulics, revealing a narrow alleyway bathed in the soft glow of dawn. The fresh air hits me like a physical force after days in that concrete cell. I gulp it down greedily, my head spinning with the sudden rush of oxygen and freedom. A sleek black car sits at the end of the alley, Mia¡¯s, presumably. I fumble with the keys, my hands shaking so badly I can barely press the unlock button. The lights flash once, and I nearly sob with relief. As I slide into the driver¡¯s seat, guilt crashes over me like a wave. Adam is still in there, broken and suffering. I should go back for him. I should try to save him. But Luna is in there, too, probably with a over a dozen armed women. I¡¯d be dead before I found him, and then we¡¯d both be lost. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Adam, I¡¯ll send help. I promise.¡± Chapter 72: We Bring the Boom [Caterina¡¯s POV] My eyes burn from staring at screens all night. How many nights now? Three? Four? Time has no meaning anymore. The command center beneath La Reale hums with electronic equipment, the blue glow of monitors casting ghostly shadows across my haggard face. The door opens behind me, and I don¡¯t need to turn to know it¡¯s Maddy and Lara. Their footsteps have become as familiar as my own heartbeat during these endless days of searching. ¡°Boss,¡± Maddy¡¯s voice is carefully neutral, but I hear the exhaustion in it. ¡°We¡¯ve checked every warehouse in South Boston. Nothing.¡± ¡°Drones swept the harbor area too,¡± Lara adds, her usually manic energy subdued. ¡°No sign of Luna¡¯s operation.¡± I don¡¯t respond immediately. My fingers trace the outline of Adam¡¯s face on one of the monitors, a still from security footage taken the day before he was kidnapped in Italy. He was smiling at something I¡¯d said, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made my chest ache with unexpected tenderness. I close my eyes, trying to hold back tears. The weight of it all crashes over me like a tsunami, Adam in Luna¡¯s hands, Valentina¡¯s death, my entire world crumbling. ¡°Boss, you need to sleep. Let us run things for a few hours,¡± Lara says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. ¡°I need to find him, Lara,¡± I whisper, my voice raw from disuse and emotion. ¡°Boss, I know,¡± Lara insists, stepping closer. ¡°But you won¡¯t be able to do anything without a little sleep.¡± Maddy¡¯s phone buzzes suddenly. She glances at the screen, her eyebrow shooting up in surprise. ¡°Boss, it¡¯s Claire,¡± she says, holding up the phone. There¡¯s a note of disbelief in her voice. I feel surprised. We haven¡¯t seen Claire in days. I just assumed she was involved somehow in this nightmare. ¡°Put it on speaker,¡± I command, straightening in my chair. Maddy taps the screen, and Claire¡¯s voice fills the room, breathless and panicked. ¡°Hello, Claire? I have you on speaker,¡± Maddy says, her voice carefully neutral. Claire¡¯s voice comes through breathless and frantic, the sound of an engine roaring in the background. ¡°I just escaped Luna¡¯s hideout. Luna has Adam.¡± ¡°WHERE IS ADAM?¡± I scream, lunging forward and grabbing the phone from Maddy¡¯s hand. My voice is raw, desperate, barely recognizable even to my own ears. ¡°Holy fuck, Caterina?¡± Claire gasps, clearly startled by my sudden intrusion. ¡°WHERE IS HE?¡± I yell again, knuckles white as I grip the phone, my entire body trembling with desperation. ¡°In a warehouse in Dorchester,¡± Claire says nervously, her words tumbling out in a rush. ¡°I¡¯m sending a picture and the address to Maddy right now.¡± Maddy¡¯s phone pings with an incoming message as I hand it back to her. She checks it quickly, her eyes widening. ¡°Got it, boss. It¡¯s an old storage facility near the harbor.¡± I¡¯m already moving, grabbing my gun from the table and checking the clip with practiced efficiency. My mind races with calculations, how many women I¡¯ll need, the quickest route, what weapons to bring. ¡°How many guards?¡± I demand, my voice razor-sharp as I signal Lara to start making calls. ¡°Over a dozen women,¡± Claire responds, the sound of her car accelerating coming through the speaker. ¡°Maybe more. Mia¡¯s dead, she just... died right in front of me. Something made her bleed out from everywhere.¡± ¡°Who the fuck is Mia?¡± I snap, impatient with details that don¡¯t help me get to Adam. ¡°Luna¡¯s second-in-command,¡± Claire explains hurriedly. ¡°The one who... who was keeping Adam. Look, he¡¯s in bad shape, Caterina. They hurt him. Bad.¡± My heart constricts painfully in my chest, but I push the emotion down, locking it away where it can¡¯t interfere with what needs to be done. ¡°Claire,¡± I say, my voice suddenly deadly calm, ¡°I need you to tell me everything you know about the building layout. Every entrance, every guard position, every place Adam might be held.¡± Claire¡¯s breathing hitches on the other end of the line. ¡°I don¡¯t really remember. When I went to get Adam, they knocked me out and shoved me in a cell.¡± I freeze, my finger hovering over the map Maddy just pulled up. ¡°What do you mean when you went to get Adam?¡± There¡¯s a long pause, just the sound of tires on asphalt and Claire¡¯s suddenly shallow breathing. ¡°Ahh fuck,¡± she finally says, her voice small. ¡°Claire.¡± My voice is eerily calm now, a stillness that has made grown men wet themselves. ¡°What exactly did you do?¡± Another pause, longer this time. When she speaks again, her words come out in a rush. ¡°Luna contacted me weeks ago. Said she knew I wanted Adam back, that she could help make that happen if I gave her information on your movements.¡± The rage that floods through me is so intense I nearly black out. My vision narrows to a pinpoint, the edges turning crimson like my eyes. ¡°You¡¯re the reason they kidnapped Adam,¡± I whisper, each word dripping with lethal promise. ¡°You¡¯re the reason Valentina is dead.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know they were going to kill anyone!¡± Claire protests, panic evident in her voice. ¡°I just wanted my husband back!¡± ¡°HE¡¯S NOT YOUR HUSBAND!¡± I scream, the sound tearing from my throat like something feral and wounded. ¡°HE¡¯S MINE!¡± There¡¯s a long silence on the other end of the line. When Claire finally speaks, her voice wavers like a candle flame in a draft. ¡°I¡¯ve changed, Caterina. I really have.¡± Her words come out desperate, pleading. ¡°I never wanted any of this to happen. I just wanted¡­¡± ¡°Claire,¡± I cut her off, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper, ¡°if I ever see you again, I will kill you. That¡¯s not a threat. It¡¯s a promise.¡± The line goes dead. Claire hung up. I stand there for a moment, phone still clutched in my white-knuckled grip, rage pulsing through me in waves so intense I can barely breathe. Maddy clears her throat cautiously. ¡°Do you want me to reach out to our connection at Verizon? See what towers she was pinging? We could track her location.¡± My eyes dart back and forth, mind racing through possibilities, calculations, scenarios. Every second wasted is another second Adam suffers. ¡°No time,¡± I snap, tossing the phone onto the table. ¡°Prepare for war. Call everyone. I want fucking every woman we know geared up. Bring out fucking everything.¡± Lara straightens, her manic energy returning as she pulls out her own phone. ¡°We can get around fifty women in an hour. If you wait, we can get a lot more probably.¡± ¡°Start with fifty and have someone else prepare the rest,¡± I order, already moving toward the armory. ¡°I want grenades, assault rifles, body armor, the works. And get the medical team ready. Adam will need immediate attention.¡± The command center erupts into frenzied activity, phones ringing, orders being shouted, equipment being dragged out of storage. I stride through it all like the eye of a hurricane, my focus narrowed to a single point. Adam. ***** The armored truck rumbles beneath me, the vibration traveling up through my combat boots and into my bones. Every jolt sends a fresh wave of murderous determination through my veins. My fingers grip my assault rifle, the metal warm against my skin from how tightly I¡¯ve been holding it for the past twenty minutes. Fifty of my best fighters are spread across three eighteen-wheeler trucks, a mobile arsenal heading straight for Luna¡¯s warehouse. They¡¯re all hardened criminals, women who¡¯ve killed before and will kill again without hesitation. But even they seem on edge, stealing glances at me like I¡¯m a bomb about to detonate. They¡¯re not wrong. Maddy sits across from me, methodically checking her weapons for the third time. Her movements are precise, economical, betraying none of the tension I know she must be feeling. Lara paces the limited space of the truck, her red hair pulled back in a tight braid, eyes gleaming with barely contained bloodlust. ¡°Ten minutes to target,¡± the driver calls back. I rise from my seat, steadying myself against the truck¡¯s motion. ¡°When we breach, I go in first,¡± I announce, my voice cutting through the tense silence. ¡°Anyone who tries to stop me will regret it.¡± Lara pauses her pacing, a frown creasing her usually manic features. ¡°Boss, this isn¡¯t something the leader should do. You¡¯re too valuable to be first through the door. Let me¡­¡± ¡°Shut the fuck up,¡± I snap, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that makes everyone in the truck freeze. ¡°He¡¯s mine. I¡¯m getting him back. I¡¯m going in first.¡± Lara blinks, then nods slowly, a wild grin spreading across her face. ¡°Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.¡± Maddy sighs, holstering her pistol. ¡°At least wear the face mask,¡± she says. I ignore her, checking my rifle one last time. The weight of it feels good in my hands, solid and reassuring. Luna will die today. So will anyone else who stands between me and Adam. The truck lurches as the driver takes a sharp turn. My phone buzzes in my pocket, drawing my attention away from my rifle. I pull it out, expecting an update from our advance team. The screen displays a surprising name. Isabella Moretti. ¡°Everyone quiet,¡± I snap, hitting the accept button and putting the phone to my ear. ¡°Isabella.¡± The non canon picture: S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 73: Feliz Jueves [Caterina¡¯s POV] ¡°Isabella.¡± ¡°Caterina,¡± Isabella¡¯s smooth Southern drawl fills my ear. ¡°I¡¯d like to make a deal.¡± ¡°What kind of fucking deal?¡± I snarl, gripping the phone so tightly I¡¯m surprised it doesn¡¯t shatter in my hand. Every muscle in my body tenses as the truck continues rumbling toward our destination. ¡°Now, now,¡± Isabella chides as if speaking to a petulant child rather than a woman preparing to slaughter her way through a warehouse. ¡°That¡¯s no way to conduct business.¡± ¡°I have information you need,¡± Isabella continues, her voice honeyed poison. ¡°Adam¡¯s location. I know exactly where Luna is keeping him.¡± ¡®She doesn¡¯t know, I already know.¡¯ My heart skips a beat despite myself. Maddy and Lara exchange glances across the truck¡¯s interior. ¡°And what would you want in exchange for this information?¡± I ask, forcing my voice to remain steady. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡°Your entire operation,¡± Isabella says simply. ¡°La Reale. The trafficking routes. The drug distribution. All of it. Sign everything over to me, and I¡¯ll tell you where to find your boy toy.¡± For a moment, I actually consider it. Despite already having his location, it would be nice to walk away from everything I¡¯ve built. Take Adam somewhere far away, somewhere safe. Start over. No more blood, no more violence, just the two of us healing together. It would be the perfect excuse to retire, to leave this life behind like I want too. But this is Isabella Moretti. The woman who¡¯s been trying to destroy me for a decade. The woman who more than likely orchestrated this entire nightmare with Luna. The call ends abruptly as I hit the disconnect button with my thumb, letting out a long, deep breath that feels like it¡¯s been trapped in my lungs for hours. My lips quivering dangerously close to telling her exactly what I thought of her ¡°deal.¡± Lara looks at me with disappointed eyes, her manic energy momentarily subdued. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you stir the pot?¡± I slide my phone back into my pocket, my crimson eyes fixed on the warehouse blueprint displayed on the tablet in front of me. ¡°Because I can¡¯t put Adam in any more danger than he¡¯s already in right now.¡± ¡°You think she¡¯d warn Luna?¡± Maddy asks, her voice carefully neutral as she checks her pistol one final time. ¡°I know she would,¡± I reply, my voice hardening. ¡°Isabella and Luna orchestrated this together. If Isabella knows we¡¯re coming, Adam might be...¡± I can¡¯t finish the sentence, the possibility too horrific to voice. The driver calls back to me, ¡°Two minutes out, boss!¡± I stand, steadying myself against the truck¡¯s wall. ¡°Final check,¡± I order, my voice carrying that edge of command that¡¯s kept me alive and in power for so long. ¡°Comms, weapons, vests.¡± The women around me move with practiced efficiency, tapping earpieces, checking magazines, adjusting body armor. Their faces are set in grim determination, each one understanding exactly what¡¯s at stake today. ¡°Remember,¡± I say, my voice cutting through the tension, ¡°Adam is priority one. Find him, secure him, get him out. Anyone who gets in your way dies. Simple as that.¡± Lara¡¯s wild grin returns as she chambers a round in her assault rifle. ¡°What about Luna?¡± ¡°Kill on sight,¡± I reply, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. ¡°And Isabella too, if she¡¯s stupid enough to be there.¡± The truck jerks to a stop, the sudden silence almost deafening after the rumble of the engine. I check my rifle one last time, feeling the comforting weight in my hands. ¡°Are the snipers trained on the exits?¡± I ask, my voice steady despite the rage boiling in my veins. Maddy nods, pressing a finger to her earpiece. ¡°Yes, boss. All exits covered.¡± Lara moves to the back of the truck, her hands gripping the metal handles of the doors as she throws it open. That familiar manic grin spreads across her face as she waits for my command. I slam my fist against the truck wall, the sound reverberating through the metal like a war drum. ¡°Then let¡¯s fucking go!¡± ¡°Everyone brace yourselves!¡± Lara shouts, throwing the doors open. The truck lurches backward with a roar, tires screeching as our driver slams the accelerator. Metal screams against metal as we crash through the warehouse loading dock, the garage door crumpling like paper beneath the weight of our armored vehicle. We burst out of the truck before it fully stops, a deadly wave of women in tactical gear flooding into the warehouse. My boots hit concrete, rifle already raised as I scan for threats. The warehouse is eerily silent, no immediate resistance meeting our violent entrance. The space stretches out before us, dimly lit and cavernous, with metal shipping containers stacked against the walls. Movement catches my eye, a woman stumbling from behind a container, her eyes wide with shock. She looks exhausted, dark circles beneath her eyes, a gun hanging loosely in her hand as she struggles to process what¡¯s happening. I don¡¯t hesitate. My finger squeezes the trigger, and the rifle bucks against my shoulder. The woman crumples to the ground, a spray of blood paints the wall behind her. My women pour into the warehouse behind me, weapons raised, and suddenly, the air is thick with gunfire and screaming. ¡°CONTACT RIGHT!¡± someone shouts as a group of Luna¡¯s enforcers emerges from behind a stack of crates, weapons blazing. I duck behind a concrete pillar as bullets chip away at the edges, concrete dust raining down on my shoulders. I swing around the corner, squeezing the trigger in controlled bursts. Two women drop instantly, their bodies jerking violently as the rounds tear through them. ¡°BOLT THE FUCK UP, BITCHES!¡± [A/N: I am not a Chargers fan.] Lara¡¯s voice rises above the chaos, almost gleeful, as she charges forward, her red hair flying behind her like a battle standard. She vaults over a fallen stack of pallets, assault rifle chattering in her hands as she advances on a group of Luna¡¯s women who are desperately trying to establish a defensive position. The first woman goes down with a scream, her chest erupting in a spray of red. The second barely has time to raise her weapon before Lara is on her, driving the butt of her rifle into the woman¡¯s face with a sickening crunch. Teeth and blood scatter across the concrete floor. Lara laughs as she executes her. ¡°I¡¯M GOING ASUKA MODE!¡± Lara howls, her face contorted in savage glee as she empties her magazine into a third woman trying to flee. The rounds catch her in the back, sending her sprawling face-first onto the concrete. I push forward relentlessly, my focus narrowing to a laser point. Find Adam. Nothing else matters. A bullet whizzes past my ear, so close I feel the displaced air. I whirl toward the source, dropping to one knee as I return fire. My rounds catch the shooter in the throat, and she falls in a gurgling heap, hands clutching uselessly at her ruined neck. ¡®I need to focus.¡¯ The warehouse erupts into a full-blown war zone. The air is thick with gunsmoke and the metallic scent of blood. Screams and shouts echo off the high ceiling, punctuated by the staccato rhythm of gunfire and the duller thud of explosions as flashbangs detonate. ¡°Boss, on your three!¡± Maddy shouts. I pivot smoothly, my rifle already tracking. A woman charges toward me, knife raised high. I squeeze the trigger, and her head snaps back, a clean hole appearing between her eyes before the back of her skull explodes outward. I sweep through the warehouse with deadly efficiency. My women fan out around me in a protective formation, but so far, we¡¯ve encountered only minimal resistance. Bullet casings crunch beneath my boots as I move deeper into the structure, stepping over bodies without a second glance. ¡°Status report,¡± I bark into my comm, scanning the cavernous space for any sign of Adam. ¡°East wing clear,¡± Maddy¡¯s voice crackles in my ear. ¡°Three tangos down, no casualties on our side.¡± ¡°North entrance secured,¡± another woman reports. ¡°No sign of Luna or the target.¡± Something cold slithers down my spine as I realize we¡¯ve been here nearly ten minutes without finding Adam. The warehouse is massive, but we¡¯ve cleared almost half of it already. Luna¡¯s forces seem scattered, disorganized. ¡°West area¡¯s a maze of storage rooms,¡± Lara¡¯s voice hisses through my comm. ¡°Think we found something, boss.¡± I change direction immediately, following the sound of distant gunfire. Every second feels like an eternity, every breath a struggle against the crushing weight of fear that threatens to overwhelm me. ¡®What if he¡¯s not here?¡¯ I round a corner and find Lara and a handful of my women pinned down at the entrance to a narrow hallway. Bullets zip past, embedding themselves in the wall behind them with dull thuds. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡± I demand, sliding into cover beside them. ¡°At least three shooters,¡± Lara reports, her eyes gleaming with manic excitement. ¡°They¡¯re dug in pretty good at the end of that hallway. Those look like bunkrooms.¡± She points to a series of doors lining the corridor. ¡°Adam could be in any of them.¡± Hope flares in my chest. I peer around the corner, only to jerk back as another bullet whizzes past my face. ¡°We need to clear that hallway,¡± I growl, checking my magazine. ¡°Now.¡± The women around me nod grimly, preparing to advance under covering fire. But before I can give the order, Lara¡¯s face splits into that terrifying grin I know all too well. ¡°Fuck this,¡± she announces cheerfully, and before anyone can stop her, she¡¯s on her feet and sprinting directly into the gunfire. ¡°IDIOT!¡± I scream, my heart stopping as I watch my psychotic lieutenant charge straight toward certain death. But somehow, impossibly, the bullets seem to miss her. Bullets pinging off the walls and floor around her but never finding their mark. It¡¯s not bravery. It¡¯s pure lunacy, a complete disregard for her own mortality that borders on the supernatural. I watch in disbelief as she reaches the first shooter, dropping her with a single shot to the head. She pivots quickly, putting two rounds into the chest of the second woman before she can even react. The third tries to flee, scrambling backward, but Lara is on her in an instant, pressing her rifle against the woman¡¯s forehead and pulling the trigger without hesitation. The sudden silence is deafening. Lara stands amid the carnage, her chest heaving slightly, that manic grin still plastered across her face. She looks around, then casually kicks one of the bodies to ensure it¡¯s dead. ¡°Clear!¡± she calls, waving us forward with the barrel of her gun. I rush down the hallway, stepping over bodies as I go. ¡°Jesus Christ, Lara,¡± I mutter as I pass her, heading straight for the door at the end of the hallway. I lunge at the door at the end of the hallway, my boot connecting with the lock in a violent explosion of splintering wood. The door flies open, slamming against the wall with a crash that echoes through the room. My rifle sweeps left, then right, searching for threats, but the room appears empty of hostiles. The air is thick with the smell of antiseptic. Then I see him. Adam lies motionless on a bare mattress in the center of the room, illuminated by a single harsh fluorescent light. His body is a canvas of bruises, purple and yellow flowering across his exposed skin. His wrists are raw and bloody, his hands still twisted in that unnatural position from when I broke them. ¡°ADAM!¡± Chapter 74: Swat [Adam¡¯s POV] The heroin feels like a warm blanket wrapped around my consciousness, dulling the edges of all the pain. I¡¯m floating somewhere between awake and asleep when the sound of gunfire penetrates my haze. It¡¯s distant at first, then closer, punctuated by screams and what sounds like explosions. I should probably care, but the drugs make everything seem far away and unimportant. I hear shouting in the hallway, then a tremendous crash as the door flies open. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Through half-lidded eyes, I see a figure silhouetted in the doorway. Blonde hair pulled back in a tight braid. Combat gear. An assault rifle hanging from her chest. I blink slowly, struggling to focus. I must be dreaming. ¡°ADAM!¡± The apparition yells. ¡°Oh hey, Cat,¡± I mumble, my voice slurring from the heroin and dehydration. She sprints across the room, her combat boots pounding against the concrete. The rifle swings wildly on its harness as she drops to her knees beside the mattress. Her hands hover over my body, not touching, just trembling in the air above my skin as her crimson eyes take in every bruise, every mark, the empty space where my tooth used to be. ¡°Adam,¡± she whispers, tears streaming down her face. ¡°Oh my God, Adam.¡± Her fingers gently brush my cheek, so unlike the rough handling I¡¯ve grown accustomed to these past days. The touch feels electric, startlingly real. ¡®Maybe this isn¡¯t a hallucination after all.¡¯ ¡°You¡¯re really here? I¡¯m not just dreaming?¡± Caterina lets out a choked sob, her hand cupping my face like I might shatter. ¡°I¡¯m here, baby. I found you. I¡¯m going to get you out.¡± Her tears fall on my face as she leans down, pressing her forehead against mine. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she whispers, her voice breaking. ¡°I¡¯m so fucking sorry I didn¡¯t protect you.¡± I try to reach for her, but my damaged hands won¡¯t cooperate. ¡°You came,¡± I barely manage. ¡°You actually came. I really believed you would.¡± Without another word, Caterina slides one arm under my knees and the other behind my shoulders. She lifts me effortlessly from the mattress, cradling me against her chest like I weigh nothing at all. The sudden movement sends a wave of dizziness through me, and I let my head fall against her shoulder. ¡°Lara, lead us out of here!¡± Caterina barks, her voice commanding despite the tears still glistening on her cheeks. Lara appears in the doorway, her assault rifle at the ready. Her usual manic grin is gone, replaced by genuine pity as she looks at me. ¡°This way, boss,¡± she says, stepping into the hallway. We move through the corridor, Caterina carrying me like I¡¯m made of glass. My body feels weightless in her arms, suspended in a bubble of warmth and safety that I¡¯d thought I¡¯d never experience again. The heroin keeps everything at a distance, even the overwhelming relief of being rescued. As we turn a corner, we¡¯re suddenly surrounded by a half-dozen women in tactical gear, all heavily armed. I tense instinctively, but Caterina holds me tighter. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she murmurs against my hair. ¡°They¡¯re with me.¡± One of the women, tall with a jagged scar across her chin, approaches cautiously. ¡°Tell the medics to be on standby,¡± Caterina orders, her voice brooking no argument. ¡°They already are,¡± Lara calls back without turning around. ¡°Full trauma team waiting at the trucks.¡± We continue through the warehouse, stepping over bodies I barely register. Blood pools on the concrete floor splashed across walls and crates. The carnage doesn¡¯t faze me. Nothing seems real except Caterina¡¯s arms around me, her heartbeat strong and steady against my ear. As we approach the exit, the rapid pop of gunshots echoes through the warehouse. Caterina¡¯s arms tighten around me instinctively, her body tensing as she pulls me closer to her chest. Two bodies crash through a doorway to our left. They tumble onto the concrete floor in a tangle of limbs and fury. My stomach drops as I recognize them. Maddy and Luna. Maddy¡¯s normally perfect appearance is disheveled, blood trickling from her split lip as she lands a solid punch to Luna¡¯s jaw. Luna is completely naked, her skin glistening with sweat. I feel a wave of nausea as I notice my cum from our earlier encounter still leaking down her thighs. ¡°You fucking bitch!¡± Maddy snarls, grabbing Luna by the hair. But Luna is fast. With a savage twist, she breaks free of Maddy¡¯s grip and pulls a revolver from Maddy¡¯s belt. Before anyone can react, she¡¯s yanked Maddy against her, the barrel of the gun pressed firmly against her temple. ¡°Nobody fucking move!¡± Luna screams, her eyes wild with desperation as she backs toward the wall, using Maddy as a human shield. The warehouse freezes. Caterina goes completely still, her breathing so controlled I can barely feel her chest rise and fall against mine. The women around us aim their weapons at Luna, but no one dares to fire with Maddy in the line of fire. ¡°Let her go, Luna,¡± Caterina says, her voice deadly calm despite the fury radiating from her body. ¡°It¡¯s over.¡± Luna laughs, the sound unhinged and echoing off the concrete walls. Her eyes dart frantically around the room, taking in the bodies of her fallen enforcers, the armed women surrounding her, and finally landing on me in Caterina¡¯s arms. ¡°Look at you,¡± she spits, pressing the gun harder against Maddy¡¯s head. ¡°So fucking noble, coming to rescue your little boy toy. Did you like the videos I sent? Did you enjoy watching him get fucked by my girls?¡± I feel Caterina¡¯s muscles tense beneath me, but her voice remains eerily steady. ¡°The only reason you¡¯re still breathing is because you¡¯re holding my second in command. Let her go, and I¡¯ll consider making your death quick.¡± Luna¡¯s eyes narrow, a desperate smile spreading across her face as she focuses on me. ¡°He was so good for me, Cat. So responsive. Should I tell her how hard you got for me, Adam? How you came inside me again and again while I rode you?¡± Lara¡¯s eyes narrow as she stands just in front of Caterina, her rifle perfectly steady in her hands. A strange calm comes over her as her lips quirking up into that familiar psychotic grin. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it,¡± Maddy hisses through gritted teeth, her eyes locked on Lara as if she can read her mind. Luna¡¯s brow furrows in confusion. ¡°Huh?¡± Maddy squeezes her eyes shut, her body tensing in anticipation. The crack of Lara¡¯s rifle is deafening in the enclosed space. The bullet whistles past, close enough to graze the armor on Maddy¡¯s neck before finding its true target. Luna¡¯s left eye explodes in a shower of blood, and¡­ eye goo? The back of her skull shattering outward in a spray of brain matter, blood, and splintered bone. The exit wound leaves a gaping cavity where the back of her head used to be, painting the wall behind her with a grotesque Jackson Pollock of gray matter and crimson. She slumps to the ground, limbs splaying at unnatural angles, her remaining eye still open and staring at nothing. Blood pools rapidly beneath her naked body, spreading across the concrete like spilled wine. Maddy¡¯s hand flies to her neck where the bullet grazed her armor, her eyes snapping open as she stumbles forward, freed from Luna¡¯s grip. ¡°Jesus FUCKING Christ, Lara!¡± she shouts, spinning around to face the redhead. ¡°You could have killed me!¡± Lara shrugs, lowering her rifle with a self-satisfied smirk. ¡°But I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the point!¡± Maddy¡¯s face flushes with anger as she gestures wildly at her neck. ¡°You almost shot THROUGH me to get to her!¡± ¡°Nah,¡± Lara says, tapping the side of her head. ¡°I know my angles.¡± Caterina says nothing, her crimson eyes fixed on Luna¡¯s crumpled form. There¡¯s no satisfaction in her gaze, just a cold, empty detachment as she holds me tighter against her chest. ¡°Boss?¡± Lara prompts, her voice unusually tentative. Caterina finally tears her eyes away from Luna¡¯s corpse. ¡°Get the medics,¡± she orders, her voice flat. ¡°Now.¡± Lara nods, immediately turning on her heel and jogging toward the exit. Maddy remains behind, her hand still pressed against her neck where the bullet grazed her armor. We move swiftly through the warehouse, Caterina¡¯s stride purposeful and strong despite carrying my full weight. Sunlight blinds me as we exit through the shattered loading dock, the sudden brightness sending pain lancing through my skull after days in dim captivity. A medical team rushes toward us, wheeling a stretcher across the cracked asphalt. Caterina gently lowers me onto it, her hands lingering on my shoulders like she can¡¯t bear to break contact. ¡°Get him stabilized,¡± she orders, her voice steady but strained. Anxiety runs through me at the loss of presence. ¡°Wait Cat, don¡¯t go.¡± Caterina smiles with tears in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere Adam.¡± The medics immediately surround me, securing straps across my chest and legs. They wheel me rapidly toward a waiting black van, its back doors already open. Inside, I glimpse medical equipment, monitors, IV bags, and what looks like a small pharmacy. Caterina turns to Maddy and Lara, her face hardening into something terrifying. ¡°Stay back and clear everything out. Find out what the fuck they were doing here and then fucking torch it.¡± ¡°On it, boss,¡± Lara responds, that manic gleam returning to her eyes at the prospect of more destruction. The medics load me into the van, the stretcher locking into place with a metallic click. Caterina climbs in behind them, positioning herself at my head where she can maintain eye contact. ¡°Will the command center be enough?¡± she asks the lead medic, a stern-faced woman with close-cropped gray hair. The medics work around me, one attaching monitors to my chest while another shines a penlight into my eyes, tracking my pupil response. ¡°Nothing looks like it¡¯ll need surgery besides his hands,¡± the gray-haired medic reports as the van lurches into motion, tires squealing against asphalt. Caterina shakes her head, her expression grim. ¡°No, that¡¯s old.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± the medic nods, turning her attention to my vital signs. An IV needle slides into my arm, and almost immediately, warmth spreads through my veins. Different from heroin, cleaner somehow, less fuzzy. The pain begins to recede, replaced by a floating sensation that¡¯s not quite as disorienting. ¡°What are you giving him?¡± Caterina demands, her eyes never leaving my face. ¡°Saline with a mild painkiller,¡± the medic explains. ¡°Nothing that will interact badly with whatever¡¯s already in his system.¡± Caterina¡¯s fingers brush through my hair, her touch feather-light. ¡°You¡¯re safe now,¡± she whispers, leaning close enough that only I can hear. ¡°I¡¯ve got you, baby. I¡¯ve got you.¡± ¡°Cat, I really missed you.¡± I say as I drift off. Chapter 75: Addiction is Pay to Win I blink slowly as consciousness returns after a little cat nap The clean white ceiling of our private suite coming into focus. My body feels heavy, like I¡¯m wearing a weighted blanket, but it¡¯s not entirely unpleasant. Just different. Early December in New England brings an early darkness that presses against our windows, the glass frosted with the first real cold snap of the season. Snow has been falling steadily for three days, blanketing the sprawling grounds of this ultra-exclusive rehab facility in pristine white. Not that I¡¯ve been outside to see it. Two weeks into treatment, and I¡¯m already feeling like a different person. The withdrawal symptoms have mostly subsided, replaced by a strange emptiness that the doctors assure me is normal. My body is learning how to feel things naturally again after being flooded with chemicals for so long. Caterina shifts beside me on our massive bed, her crimson eyes studying my face with that intense focus I¡¯ve come to rely on. Her fingers trace gentle patterns on my arm, careful to avoid the IV port. ¡°Are you feeling okay?¡± she asks again, her brow furrowed with concern. I nod, offering her a small smile. ¡°Yeah, just the usual aches. The sweating isn¡¯t nearly as bad as yesterday.¡± She doesn¡¯t look convinced. Her hand moves to my forehead, checking for fever like I¡¯m a child with the flu. ¡°Your tooth still bothering you?¡± I run my tongue over my front teeth. The oral surgeon Caterina flew in from Switzerland had given me a temporary implant, with the permanent one scheduled for next week. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I assure her, catching her hand with mine. ¡°Really, Cat. I¡¯m okay.¡± She sighs, leaning back against the mountain of pillows. ¡°I just worry.¡± ¡°I know you do.¡± I squeeze her hand gently. ¡°But honestly, when you have more money than God like you do, beating addiction is surprisingly easier than people would think.¡± It¡¯s been non stop specialists and miracle drugs for my stay here. A small smile finally breaks through her concern. ¡°Money helps with the physical part,¡± she acknowledges. ¡°But the rest of it...¡± She doesn¡¯t finish, but she doesn¡¯t need to. We both know what she means. The nightmares. The flashbacks. The way I still flinch sometimes when she moves too quickly. Money can¡¯t fix that. ¡°Dr. Winters says I¡¯m making good progress,¡± I offer, trying to reassure her. Caterina nods, but her eyes drift to the security monitors mounted in the corner of our suite. Six screens showing different angles of the facility grounds, the perimeter fence, the main entrance. Another shows the hallway outside our door, where two of her most trusted women stand guard 24/7. Caterina¡¯s attention shifts from the monitors back to me, her crimson eyes suddenly haunted. She fidgets with the edge of the blanket, something I¡¯ve rarely seen her do. ¡°There¡¯s something I feel I should say,¡± she says, her voice uncharacteristically small. I wait, giving her the space to continue. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders squaring as if preparing for battle. ¡°Adam, I¡¯m sorry I got you addicted to drugs in the first place.¡± The words rush out of her like she¡¯s been holding them back for too long. ¡°After the hammers¡­ I started giving you Oxy¡¯s because I thought it would make you easier to control. To manipulate.¡± She already admitted to this in the past, but for her to feel bad about it is surprising. ¡°I never imagined someone else could use that addiction against you,¡± she continues, her voice cracking slightly. ¡°That Luna would...¡± Her hands clench into fists on top of the blanket. A small, bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it. She can see it as acceptable for her to do it, but not Luna. ¡®Still, at this point, I only feel safe when I¡¯m with her.¡¯ ¡°You think it¡¯s funny that I deliberately got you hooked on opioids?¡± she asks, bewildered. I shake my head, reaching for her hand despite the ache in my still-healing fingers. ¡°No.¡± I sigh. ¡°Cat, the only thing I thought about while I was in that warehouse was that I knew you¡¯d find me. That you¡¯d save me.¡± Caterina suddenly pulls me into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around me with that perfect balance of strength and tenderness that only she can manage. I bury my face in her neck. ¡°And honestly,¡± I murmur against her skin, ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯d still be addicted to something if you thought it was beneficial long-term.¡± She pulls back slightly, her crimson eyes searching mine. A frown creases her perfect features. ¡°Won¡¯t you miss our pill kisses?¡± I think about those moments, her tongue pressing the pills into my mouth, the ritual that became so intertwined with intimacy and surrender. ¡°Honestly? Yeah,¡± I admit, not surprising myself at all. A sultry smile spreads across her face, replacing the uncertainty. Without another word, she leans forward, capturing my lips with hers. Her tongue slides into my mouth, exploring with the same deliberate precision she used when delivering those pills. My body responds immediately, a wave of pleasure washing over me as I¡¯ve been conditioned to feel release with kisses like this from her. It¡¯s Pavlovian. The same mouth movements that once delivered drugs now delivering a different kind of high. When she finally pulls away, I¡¯m breathless and dizzy in the best possible way. ¡°We can have that without the pills,¡± she whispers, her thumb tracing my bottom lip. ¡°I can still take care of you.¡± I nod, unable to find words for a moment. ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡± She settles back against the pillows, pulling me with her so that my head rests on her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± she says after a comfortable silence. ¡°About what happens next.¡± ¡°Next?¡± I echo, suddenly uncertain. The future has seemed like a distant, abstract concept since my rescue. ¡°When you¡¯ve recovered,¡± she clarifies. ¡°When we leave here.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± I hadn¡¯t really thought that far ahead. The rehab facility has become a cocoon, sheltering us from the outside world and its dangers. Caterina¡¯s fingers gently stroke my hair, her touch feather-light against my scalp. ¡°I¡¯m retiring,¡± she says simply, her voice carrying a quiet finality that makes me look up at her in surprise. ¡°What?¡± I blink, processing her words. ¡°From La Reale?¡± She shakes her head, a small smile playing at her lips. ¡°From everything, Adam. The casino, the trafficking, the drugs. All of it.¡± I push myself up slightly, wincing as my healing hands protest the movement. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡± ¡°Completely.¡± Her crimson eyes hold mine with unwavering intensity. ¡°I¡¯ve already started the process. Maddy will take over most operations in New England.¡± ¡°But... your empire,¡± I stammer, genuinely shocked. Caterina cups my face in her hands, her expression softening. ¡°And I almost lost you because of it. Nothing is worth that risk. Nothing.¡± A lump forms in my throat as I process what she¡¯s saying. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡± ¡°We travel,¡± she says, excitement creeping into her voice. ¡°Anywhere you want. Everywhere you want. Private islands, mountain retreats, cities you¡¯ve never seen. Just you and me, together.¡± The image she paints is so unexpected, so different from everything I¡¯ve come to expect from our relationship, that I find myself momentarily speechless. ¡°What about security?¡± I finally ask, glancing at the monitors showing the armed guards outside our door. She chuckles softly. ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll have security. Some things don¡¯t change.¡± I lean back against her, trying to picture this new future she¡¯s describing. No more La Reale. No more rival crime bosses. No more violence bleeding into our personal life. ¡°Where would we go first?¡± I ask, allowing myself to imagine it. ¡°I was thinking the Maldives,¡± she replies, her fingers resuming their gentle stroking of my hair. ¡°Private villa over the water. White sand beaches. Nothing but ocean for miles.¡± Caterina takes my hand in hers with the gentle precision of a surgeon. Her crimson eyes focus intently as she begins to work my fingers, carefully stretching and bending each joint. The physical therapy has become part of our daily routine, her determination to heal my damaged hands has doubled since she saved me. ¡°Does that hurt?¡± she asks, noting my slight wince as she extends my pinky finger. ¡°Just a little stiff,¡± I admit. The pain has decreased significantly over the past weeks, but the stiffness remains, a constant reminder of what happened. She nods, continuing the exercises with methodical care. ¡°The doctor said we need to keep working them every day. Otherwise, the scar tissue will limit your mobility permanently.¡± I watch her face as she concentrates on my hand, her elegant features set in determined focus. It¡¯s strange seeing this nurturing side of her, the woman who once broke these same fingers with a hammer now painstakingly helping them heal. ¡°You know,¡± I say, watching her work, ¡°I¡¯ve never really gone traveling other than that time in Monza.¡± Caterina looks up, a smile spreading across her face. ¡°Then this will be a fun adventure for us to go on. I¡¯ll show you places you¡¯ve never imagined.¡± Her eyes sparkle with genuine excitement. ¡°Paris, Tokyo, Bali... anywhere you want.¡± The prospect is tempting, but doubts linger. ¡°Can you really just walk away from everything? What about Isabella? Won¡¯t she try to come after us?¡± Caterina sighs, her hands pausing their work. ¡°I have a meeting with Isabella and Lucia Fontana in a few weeks at La Reale.¡± Her tone suggests this is significant. ¡°Lucia?¡± I ask the name not registering. ¡°Lucia is the daughter of my boss, basically,¡± she explains, resuming the gentle stretching of my index finger. ¡°Ohh, right, right,¡± I nod, not really following. My eyes widen at the mention of this meeting. Something about it feels important, momentous even. ¡°Can I go?¡± The question leaves my lips before I can think it through. Caterina sighs, setting my hand down gently on the blanket. ¡°I can bring you if you¡¯re feeling better,¡± she says, her tone cautious. ¡°But you can¡¯t come into the meeting directly.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Caterina stares at me, her crimson eyes hardening slightly. ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± she says with a finality that makes it clear the subject isn¡¯t open for further discussion. Before I can protest, she pulls me into a tight embrace, her arms enveloping me completely. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t leave you alone again, okay?¡± Her voice softens, vulnerability bleeding through her usual composure. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I fidget with the blanket, a sudden thought popping into my anxious mind. ¡°Wait, Cat. This meeting... it sounds dangerous.¡± She tilts her head, studying my expression. ¡°It¡¯s just business, Adam.¡± ¡°But Isabella hates you. And you said this Lucia person is connected to your boss.¡± My heart rate picks up as worst-case scenarios flood my brain. ¡°What if you get whacked?¡± Caterina breaks into a hearty laugh, her shoulders shaking as she throws her head back. The sound is unexpectedly warm and genuine. ¡°We don¡¯t use that word for it, Adam,¡± she manages through her laughter. ¡°What word?¡± I ask confusion momentarily replacing my concern. ¡°Whacked.¡± She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, still chuckling. ¡°That¡¯s something from old movies.¡¯¡± ¡°Okay...¡± I say with a hint of annoyance in my tone for disregarding my question. Her expression softens as she cups my face in her hands. ¡°No, Adam, I promise I won¡¯t get ¡®whacked.¡¯¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± I press, unable to shake the feeling of dread. ¡°Absolutely.¡± She kisses my forehead. ¡°The meeting is at La Reale. My territory, my security, my rules.¡± I lean into her touch, trying to let her confidence reassure me. ¡°Thank god.¡± Chapter 76: The End [Caterina¡¯s POV] La Reale rises before us, its bronze-glass facade gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The casino¡¯s purple and gold lighting isn¡¯t visible yet in the daylight, but the building still commands attention in the waterfront skyline. It¡¯s been over a month since I¡¯ve been here since I¡¯ve personally overseen any of my business operations. Adam stands beside me, looking better than he has in weeks. The rehab stint, while not finished, has worked wonders so far. His complexion has returned to its healthy glow and his hands finally started regaining a little mobility. His new dental implant looks perfectly natural, matching his other teeth so well you¡¯d never know what happened. I squeeze his hand gently as we approach the main entrance, feeling his tension. My security detail surrounds us, an impenetrable wall of tailored suits and concealed weapons. Maddy walks slightly ahead, her sharp green eyes constantly scanning for threats. Lara trails behind that manic energy barely contained as she practically bounces on her toes with anticipation. ¡°You okay?¡± I murmur to Adam as we pass through the private entrance, avoiding the main gaming floor. He nods, but the tightness around his eyes betrays his anxiety. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s just... weird being back here.¡± I understand completely. The last time he was in this building was before everything went to hell. Before Luna. Before the warehouse. Before his world collapsed. We move smoothly through the back corridors of La Reale. The familiar sounds of the casino, the electronic chime of slot machines, the murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses, float through the air, muffled by distance but still recognizable. The executive wing is hushed by comparison, the thick carpeting absorbing all sound except our breathing. We approach the glass-walled conference room at the end of the hall, and I can see our guests are already inside. Isabella Moretti sits with perfect posture, her silver-streaked dark hair styled immaculately. Beside her is Tony, looking uncomfortable as always. Across from them sits Lucia Fontana, her practical bob haircut and understated elegance a stark contrast to Isabella¡¯s more ostentatious style. At the door, I pause, turning to face Adam. His eyes are wide, darting between my face and the figures visible through the glass. ¡°Adam, you¡¯ll wait here, okay? You¡¯ll be able to see into the meeting, so you know nothing will happen,¡± I assure him, cupping his cheek gently. ¡°These guards will stay with you the entire time.¡± He bites his lip, anxiety radiating from him in waves. This will be our first time apart since we¡¯ve been reunited, and I can see the fear flickering behind his eyes. ¡°Are you sure I can¡¯t come in?¡± he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. I lean in and press my lips against his, a gentle reassurance that everything will be okay. ¡°You¡¯ll be able to see into the meeting through the glass,¡± I murmur against his mouth. ¡°Nothing¡¯s going to happen to me. I promise.¡± He doesn¡¯t look convinced, his eyes still darting nervously to the conference room, but he nods anyway. ¡°Alright,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I¡¯ll wait here.¡± I give him one last kiss before straightening my suit jacket and turning toward the conference room. Maddy and Lara fall into step beside me as I push open the glass door. Isabella turns in her chair, that smug smile I¡¯ve always hated spreading across her perfectly made-up face. ¡°Caterina, I really must say I¡¯m happy you facilitated this meeting¡­¡± My gun is already in my hand before she finishes her sentence. Two quick shots echo through the conference room, both bullets hitting Isabella square in the forehead. Her head snaps back, blood and skull bits paint the sound proof wall behind her. Her body slumps forward onto the table, eyes still open in surprise. Tony looks at us and sighs, unsurprised by his mother¡¯s sudden demise. He simply shakes his head slightly as if he¡¯d been expecting this outcome all along. I holster my weapon with practiced ease and take my seat at the table, nodding to Maddy and Lara to do the same. The conference room feels suddenly quieter, the only sound the gentle hum of the air conditioning and Tony¡¯s measured breathing. Before I can even settle in my chair, the door flies open with a bang. Adam bursts into the room, his eyes wild with panic, darting between me and Isabella¡¯s slumped body. ¡°You just said nothing would happen!¡± he shouts, his voice cracking with emotion. I pat the empty seat beside me, my expression calm despite the fresh corpse bleeding out on the polished mahogany table. ¡°To me,¡± I correct him gently. ¡°I said nothing would happen to me.¡± Adam stands frozen in the doorway, his perfectly scarred hands trembling at his sides. ¡°It¡¯s okay now, Adam. Come here,¡± I say, keeping my voice soft. ¡°The hard part is done.¡± He hesitates for a moment longer, then crosses the room on unsteady legs. As he sinks into the chair beside me, his eyes keep drifting to Isabella¡¯s body, to the blood pooling beneath her head. ¡°Don¡¯t look at her, baby,¡± I murmur, gently turning his face toward mine. ¡°Okay,¡± he whispers, his voice small and uncertain. Across the table, Lucia Fontana observes us with that unreadable expression she¡¯s perfected over decades in the business. Her bob haircut frames a face that somehow manages to look both motherly and ruthlessly efficient at the same time. ¡°Okay,¡± she says, straightening the papers in front of her. ¡°Ready to start?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I reply, placing my hand over Adam¡¯s under the table, feeling his fingers still shaking beneath mine. ¡°Tony, do you have any objections to proceeding?¡± Tony Moretti glances at his mother¡¯s body with something approaching relief in his eyes. ¡°None whatsoever,¡± he says, his voice steadier than I expected. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for someone to do that for years.¡± Adam¡¯s eyes widen at this casual dismissal, but he says nothing, his gaze now fixed firmly on the table in front of him. Lucia nods all business. ¡°Then let¡¯s discuss the transition of power. Isabella¡¯s territories will officially pass to Tony, with the understanding that he will operate under my guidance for the first year.¡± ¡°And my retirement?¡± I ask, squeezing Adam¡¯s hand gently. ¡°The Fontana family accepts your decision to step down,¡± Lucia confirms, her eyes softening slightly as she glances at Adam. ¡°Your territories will be run by Maddy.¡± Tony sighs again. ¡°I¡¯m not capable of running an operation,¡± he admits, sagging further into his chair. I smile, leaning forward slightly. ¡°Well, I suggested to Lucia, if that was the case, why not have Lara run it for you until you find someone else who can do it?¡± Tony¡¯s head snaps up, his eyes widening as they dart to Lara. Her manic grin spreads across her face, red hair practically vibrating with excitement at the mention of her name. ¡°You¡¯re not going to force another marriage onto me like my mother, are you?¡± Tony asks, genuine fear flashing across his features. Lucia shakes her head. ¡°No, we just want someone we know we can trust.¡± ¡°I promise I won¡¯t even lay a finger on you, Tony,¡± Lara says, her smile growing impossibly wider. ¡®She might be a rapist and a serial killer, but I¡¯ve never seen her lie.¡¯ Adam shifts uncomfortably beside me, his fingers tightening around mine under the table. I can feel his anxiety spiking at Lara¡¯s predatory expression. ¡°Is that really necessary?¡± he whispers, leaning close enough that only I can hear. ¡°Lara running Tony¡¯s territory?¡± I squeeze his hand reassuringly. ¡°Trust me, baby. It¡¯s the cleanest way to ensure a smooth transition.¡± Across the table, Tony looks like he might throw up, his pale face growing even paler as he studies Lara. The redhead winks at him, causing him to flinch visibly. ¡°For how long exactly?¡± Tony asks, his voice cracking slightly. ¡°Six months,¡± Lucia answers smoothly. ¡°Just long enough to stabilize the territories after Isabella¡¯s... departure.¡± Her eyes flick briefly to the corpse still slumped at the table. I nod in agreement. ¡°Lara has explicit instructions not to make any permanent changes to your operation. She¡¯s simply there to maintain order while you figure out what you want to do.¡± ¡°And if I decide I want nothing to do with any of this?¡± Tony asks, a hint of defiance creeping into his voice. Lucia¡¯s expression remains impassive. ¡°Then, after six months, you can walk away. The Fontana family will respect your decision.¡± Tony seems to consider this, his shoulders relaxing slightly. ¡°Fine,¡± he concedes, not meeting anyone¡¯s eyes. ¡°Six months.¡± Lara claps her hands together like a child who¡¯s just been told they¡¯re going to Disneyland. ¡°This is gonna be so much fun! We¡¯ll be like roommates, Tony!¡± S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Tony visibly shudders. Lucia clears her throat, pulling a stack of documents from her briefcase. ¡°Let¡¯s get the paperwork out of the way,¡± she suggests, sliding several pages across the polished mahogany table. The next half hour passes in a blur of signatures and legal jargon. My hand moves mechanically across page after page, signing away clubs, casinos, trafficking routes, distribution networks, an empire I inherited, built over half a centuary dismantled in thirty minutes of paperwork. Adam watches with wide eyes as I initial the final document, transferring La Reale into Maddy¡¯s capable hands. His fingers remain intertwined with mine beneath the table, squeezing gently every few minutes as if to reassure himself that I¡¯m still there. When the last signature is dry, Lucia slides an envelope across the table. ¡°Your retirement package,¡± she says, her voice professional but with a hint of something like respect. ¡°The Fontana family believes in rewarding loyalty.¡± I open the envelope, eyes widening slightly at the figure on the check inside, significantly more generous than I¡¯d anticipated for someone leaving the business early. ¡°This is... substantial,¡± I observe, tucking the check into my jacket pocket. Lucia¡¯s lips curve into a small smile. ¡°Mother always said you were one of the best. Worth every penny.¡± As we rise from our seats, Isabella¡¯s body still cooling in her chair, Lucia pauses, her expression softening momentarily. ¡°It¡¯s a damn shame to see you go,¡± she says, straightening her practical blazer. ¡°Mother really liked you.¡± I glance at Adam, who stands beside me looking both relieved and exhausted, his cute eyes fixed on my face with that mixture of fear and adoration that still takes my breath away. ¡°True,¡± I acknowledge with a slight nod, ¡°but when true love comes calling...¡± I let my gaze linger on Adam, watching a blush spread across his cheeks at my public declaration. Maddy steps forward, ever the professional, to escort Lucia and Tony from the room. Lara follows, throwing one last manic grin at Tony that makes him visibly recoil. Adam and I exit through a separate door, where my security team waits in the hallway. Their posture shifts subtly as I approach. ¡°Orders, ma¡¯am?¡± one asks, uncertainty in her voice. I feel a strange lightness in my chest, an unfamiliar weightlessness that I slowly recognize as freedom. ¡°Take us to the car,¡± I say simply. ¡°We¡¯re leaving Boston tonight.¡± As we walk through the corridor toward the exit, one of my security detail steps closer to me, her posture rigid with professional concern. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± she says in a low voice, leaning in so only I can hear. ¡°We¡¯ve received some unusual reports regarding Connor¡¯s movements.¡± ¡°Who?¡± I pause mid-stride, my eyebrows lifting slightly. ¡°Oh, him?¡± The name strikes me as something from another lifetime. Connor, Adam¡¯s alleged friend, the one who offered himself up as a patsy for Candice¡¯s murder. The memory feels distant, like watching scenes from someone else¡¯s life playing on an old film reel. I never could tie him to Adam at all. ¡°Relieve the team. It¡¯s irrelevant now.¡± I say, waving my hand dismissively. ¡°The team on his sister, too.¡± She hesitates, shifting her weight slightly. ¡°But ma¡¯am, there¡¯s something weird about his recent¡­¡± ¡°Drop it,¡± I cut her off, my voice sharper than intended. Adam glances over at us, his adorable face creasing with concern. His eyes meet mine, questioning and wary. He¡¯s gotten better at reading my moods, at detecting the subtle shifts in my tone that signal danger. I soften immediately, reaching out to touch his cheek with gentle fingers. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter anymore,¡± I say, loud enough for him to hear, my gaze holding his. ¡°None of that matters now.¡± His shoulders relax slightly, but I can see the questions forming behind his eyes. He¡¯s gotten bolder since his rehab, more willing to push boundaries. ¡°What doesn¡¯t matter?¡± he asks, his voice quiet but steady. I slide my arm around his waist, pulling him close against my side as we continue walking. ¡°Just some loose ends,¡± I explain, keeping my tone light. ¡°Nothing for you to worry about.¡± The security team parts before us as we approach the private exit, the afternoon sun streaming through the glass doors ahead. Adam leans into me slightly, his warmth against my side still a novelty I haven¡¯t tired of. We¡¯re only a few steps from the waiting car when movement catches my eye. A figure darts from behind a nearby vehicle, sprinting toward us with alarming speed. The security team reacts instantly, reaching for weapons, but they¡¯re too slow. ¡°LET ADAM GO, YOU SLIMY BITCH!¡± The voice hits me a split second before I recognize the face, Connor, his features twisted with rage, a gun clutched in his shaking hands. Time seems to slow as he raises the weapon, aiming directly at me. I stand frozen, my brain struggling to process this all at once. The crack of gunfire shatters the moment. I brace for impact, for pain that doesn¡¯t come. Instead, Adam jumps to cover me, his body jerking violently as the bullets meant for me tear into his chest. ¡°NO!¡± The scream guttural from my throat as Adam crumples, his weight suddenly dead in my arms. We collapse together onto the pavement, his blood already soaking through his shirt, spreading across my hands as I try desperately to stem the flow. Behind us, chaos erupts. Connor¡¯s face registers shock, pure, undiluted horror before my security team tackles him to the ground. His gun skitters across the pavement as they pin him, his screams becoming incoherent wails. ¡°Adam! Adam, baby, stay with me,¡± I beg, cradling his head in my lap. My hands press against his wounds, but the blood keeps coming, hot and slick between my fingers. His handsome face is already growing pale, those warm brown eyes glazing with pain. ¡°Call an ambulance!¡± I scream at my security team, my voice unrecognizable even to my own ears. ¡°NOW!¡± Adam¡¯s lips move, forming words I have to lean down to hear. ¡°Please,¡± he whispers, each syllable a struggle. ¡°Don¡¯t kill Connor. Please.¡± His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that cuts through my panic. Despite the pain contorting his features, there¡¯s a clarity in his gaze that freezes the breath in my lungs. As he passes out, he mutters three final words. ¡°I love you.¡± A/N: Epilogue eventually. Could be today, tomorrow, or hell maybe next month. who knows. Epilogue [Adam¡¯s POV] I open my eyes to blinding whiteness. No transition. No fading in and out. One second, I¡¯m dying in Caterina¡¯s arms, my chest burning with bullet wounds, and the next, I¡¯m standing in this vast nothingness again. ¡°Shit,¡± I mutter, flexing my fingers. They work perfectly here. No pain, no scars. I run my hands over my chest where the bullets had torn through me. Nothing. Not even phantom pain. ¡°Wow, back so soon?¡± a familiar voice says behind me. I sigh, turning around to face her. Candice stands there, looking exactly the same as before, black suit, red tie, three bullet holes steadily leaking blood that vanishes before hitting the non-floor. She chuckles, crossing her arms. ¡°You know, most people try to avoid getting shot.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t try to get shot,¡± I snap. ¡°I tried to save Caterina.¡± ¡°By jumping in front of bullets? How very heroic,¡± she says, sounding genuinely amused. ¡°And stupid.¡± I rub my temples, trying to process what just happened. ¡°So I¡¯m dead?¡± ¡°I mean it¡¯s complicated,¡± Candice says cheerfully. ¡°Though technically, your body is still warm. They¡¯re doing CPR and stuff, but...¡± She makes a slicing motion across her throat. ¡°Great,¡± I mutter. ¡°Just fucking great.¡± Candice starts walking in a circle around me, her head tilted curiously. ¡°You remember our deal, right? Die early, get to pick a new world?¡± I nod slowly. ¡°Yeah, I remember.¡± Candice¡¯s face brightens with excitement. ¡°Oh, I have so many options for you!¡± She snaps her fingers, and suddenly, holographic images appear in the white void around us. ¡°You can go to Star Wars,¡± she says, gesturing to an image of a woman with red skins and horns and a red lightsaber. ¡°You could even date a Sith?¡± She winks at me. ¡°I have a world where men are treated like kings,¡± she continues, pointing to another image of men lounging on thrones surrounded by women in servant attire. ¡°Complete reversal of your current situation. You¡¯d never have to fear a woman again.¡± I watch as the images shift around us, feeling oddly detached from all of them. ¡°Or perhaps this one?¡± She waves toward a darker scene showing pale figures with glowing eyes. ¡°A world with vampires, werewolves, and skinwalkers.¡± I grimace at that one. ¡°Pass.¡± Candice keeps going, undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm. ¡°Reverse gender role Warhammer 40K?¡± A scene of grotesque war and cosmic horror materializes. Giant, unnaturally shaped women in huge blue armor killing aliens and orcs. ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you?¡± I blurt out. ¡°No one wants to live in that world.¡± She scoffs, rolling her eyes. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised. People request it constantly.¡± I shake my head, watching the images swirl around us. None of them call to me. None of them feel right. ¡°I want to go back,¡± I say finally. Candice stops her sales pitch mid-sentence. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Can you put me back?¡± I ask, more firmly this time. She sulks, her lower lip jutting out like a child denied candy. ¡°But don¡¯t you want to do something new? A fresh start? No more mafia, no more torture, no more getting shot?¡± I think about Caterina. About her fierce protectiveness, her possessive love. About the way she looks at me like I¡¯m the center of her universe. About the life, we were about to start together, away from Boston, away from the violence. ¡°I want to be with Caterina,¡± I say simply. Candice¡¯s face slowly transforms, the sulky expression melting away to reveal a smile that grows wider and wider until it¡¯s almost unsettling. She steps closer to me. ¡°You know it won¡¯t be easy, right? You might never fully recover. You¡¯ll be starting with three bullet holes in your chest.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I say. ¡°Send me back.¡± ¡°And what about Connor?¡± she asks, her head tilting curiously. ¡°The man who shot you? Who tried to kill your beloved Caterina? Will you still ask her to spare him?¡± I snarl, my newly functional hands balling into fists. ¡°Of course I will.¡± Candice laughs, the sound echoing unnaturally in the white void. ¡°From a certain point of view, he kind of seems like a bum. I mean, he shows up after months of silence just to shoot you? Some friend.¡± ¡°What the fuck? No, he just wanted to help me,¡± I protest, running my hands through my hair in frustration. ¡°He didn¡¯t know I¡¯d jump in front of her.¡± She sighs dramatically, shoulders slumping. ¡°People like you. Always so loyal, even to people who almost kill you.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± she says with a dismissive wave. Suddenly, two doors materialize in the whiteness, one red, one green. They stand independently, frames and all, with nothing behind or around them. She gestures toward the red door. ¡°The red door will take you back home, where you will live the rest of whatever life you have left with Caterina.¡± Her lips curl into a cruel smile. ¡°Your life span could be short, though.¡± She taps her chest where the bullet holes would be on mine. ¡°Three bullets through vital organs tends to do that.¡± Her smirk grows evil as she points to the green door. ¡°The green door is the ultimate harem. Any kind of woman a man could dream¡­¡± Before she can finish, I stride toward the red door and yank it open. ¡°Stop fucking around,¡± I growl, stepping through without hesitation. Behind me, I hear her sigh. ¡°True love is so boring.¡± As I look back, I see a surprisingly warm smile on Candice¡¯s face. ¡°Next time you die, I won¡¯t give you this chance again.¡± She says simply. ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± I say as I walk through the door. The white void dissolves, replaced by searing pain. Beeping machines. The smell of antiseptic. Voices shouting medical jargon I don¡¯t understand. ¡°We¡¯ve got a pulse!¡± someone yells. ¡°BP rising!¡± My chest burns like someone poured molten lava into it. I try to scream but can¡¯t. Something¡¯s in my throat. Through the haze of agony, I hear her voice. ¡°Adam? Adam, baby, can you hear me?¡± Caterina. She sounds wrecked, her usual composure completely shattered. I try to open my eyes, but they¡¯re so heavy. ¡°He¡¯s stabilizing,¡± another voice says. ¡°It¡¯s a miracle.¡± I manage to crack my eyelids open just enough to see her. Caterina¡¯s face hovers above mine, hair disheveled. I¡¯ve never seen her look so undone, so vulnerable. She grips my hand like it¡¯s a lifeline. ¡°You came back to me,¡± she whispers. I try to nod, but the tube down my throat makes it impossible. Instead, I squeeze her hand weakly. It¡¯s enough. Despite just coming, too, darkness quickly takes over again. ¡®Fuck don¡¯t tell me I¡¯m dying already?¡¯ ¡­.. ¡­.. ***** The hum of the jet engines is oddly soothing as we cruise at 40,000 feet. I shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable position that doesn¡¯t make me start coughing again. The leather seat is luxurious, but my body still finds ways to complain. ¡°You need anything?¡± Caterina asks, her fingers threading through my hair. She hasn¡¯t stopped touching me since we boarded, little reassurances that I¡¯m still here, still alive. ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± I say, though my chest tightens a bit as I speak. The doctors said the scar tissue in my lungs would eventually stop being so sensitive, but eight months later and, I still sound like I¡¯ve got a two-pack-a-day habit whenever I laugh too hard. Caterina studies my face with that intense look she gets whenever she thinks I might be hiding pain from her. ¡°You¡¯re sure? I can have them bring more pillows.¡± I can¡¯t help but smile. ¡°Seriously, I¡¯m fine.¡± I take her hand, running my thumb over her knuckles. ¡°Just excited to finally get there.¡± The Maldives. Our dream destination that got derailed by Connor¡¯s bullets and months of surgeries, physical therapy, and recovery. Sometimes, it felt like we¡¯d never make it. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you talked me into letting him live,¡± Caterina murmurs, her eyes darkening at the memory. Connor. The ghost between us that we rarely discuss. It turned out he never let go of saving me. It took me nearly killing myself by jumping out of bed to finally convince Caterina to drop it. Despite her resistance, she let me gift him some money to take his wives and move to some private beach in the Bahamas. Connor was very upset with me for choosing to stay with Caterina in the end, and I accept that. I will always love him as my best friend despite how he feels about me. I doubt he¡¯ll ever come near us again. ¡°He means a lot to me,¡± I say simply. Caterina makes that little huffing sound that means she¡¯s dropping the subject for my sake. ¡°The villa has its own private pool,¡± she says instead, changing topics with practiced ease. ¡°And a direct path to the ocean.¡± ¡°Think I can finally learn to swim without hacking up a lung?¡± I joke, immediately triggering a small coughing fit that makes me wince. Caterina¡¯s hand is instantly on my back, rubbing gentle circles as I try to breathe through it. When it passes, she hands me a water bottle without comment. ¡°Sorry,¡± I mutter, taking a sip. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize.¡± Her voice is firm but gentle. ¡°Not ever for that.¡± The plane jolts slightly, hitting a pocket of turbulence. I take another sip of water, watching the clouds drift past the window. It¡¯s peaceful up here, far away from the chaos of our old life. I close my eyes, savoring the moment. Caterina¡¯s phone buzzes. She frowns, pulling it from her pocket and checking the screen. Her eyebrows shoot up. ¡°It¡¯s your sister?¡± she says, sounding confused. I turn to her, equally perplexed. ¡°Jessica? Why isn¡¯t she calling me?¡± Caterina shrugs, then answers the call. ¡°Hello, Jessica.¡± She listens for a moment, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to absolute shock. Her face goes red, eyes bulging. ¡°What? Claire left WHAT with you?¡± she exclaims, her voice rising enough that a flight attendant glances our way. ¡°That¡¯s not possible. When did this happen?¡± My stomach drops. Claire? What the hell could she have left with Jessica? Caterina¡¯s knuckles turn white as she grips the phone. ¡°Yes, we¡¯ll turn around right now. We¡¯ll be there as soon as possible.¡± She hangs up, looking like she¡¯s seen a ghost. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I ask, my heart racing. ¡°Is Jessica okay?¡± Caterina sighs heavily, then motions for a flight attendant. When the woman approaches, Caterina¡¯s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument. ¡°Turn the plane around. We have to go back to Boston. Immediately.¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am, we¡¯re already¡­¡± ¡°I own this jet,¡± Caterina cuts her off. ¡°Turn it around. Now.¡± The flight attendant nods quickly and hurries toward the cockpit. I grab Caterina¡¯s arm, forcing her to look at me. ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± I demand. ¡°What did Claire leave with Jessica?¡± ***** [Two days ago] [Claire¡¯s POV] The bartender glances over at me with that pitying look I¡¯ve come to recognize all too well. I must be quite a sight, a drunk and disheveled woman with a baby at the slots at 2 PM on a Tuesday. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand as I balance my cigarette in another. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s time to call it a day, ma¡¯am,¡± the bartender suggests, her voice gentle but firm. ¡°Your little one doesn¡¯t look too good.¡± I look down at Eve. Her face is flushed, her breathing slightly labored. The choking sound comes again, weaker this time. Guilt crashes over me like a tidal wave. ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± I snap, though I know she¡¯s not. ¡°Just needs a nap.¡± The elderly woman at the machine next to me shoots me a disapproving glance. I can read her thoughts clearly. What kind of mother brings an infant to a casino? What kind of mother smokes with a baby in her lap? I fish another quarter from my pocket, one of my last, and feed it into the machine. The familiar whirring sound fills my ears as the wheels spin. Bar, Seven, Seven. Nothing. Story of my fucking life. Eve starts to cry, a pitiful mewling sound that barely qualifies as a proper infant wail. She hasn¡¯t been eating well. I can¡¯t afford the good formula anymore, just the cheap stuff that makes her constipated and fussy. ¡°Last one,¡± I promise her, digging for another quarter. ¡°Then we¡¯ll go back to the room.¡± The cheap motel we¡¯re staying in is hardly fit for a rat, let alone a baby. The wallpaper peels in the corners, and there¡¯s a suspicious stain on the carpet that I try not to think about. But it¡¯s all I can afford now. Two million dollars. Gone. I blew through it in less than a year, bouncing between Atlantic City, Vegas, and every hole-in-the-wall gambling joint in between. At first, I told myself it was just for fun, just to unwind after everything with Luna. Then, it became about winning back what I¡¯d lost. Then, it was about escaping the crushing reality of my life. The slots spin again. Nothing. ¡°Fuck,¡± I mutter, then immediately feel guilty for cursing in front of Eve. Not that my language is the worst thing I¡¯ve exposed her to. I didn¡¯t even know I was pregnant when I left Boston. Found out two months later in some clinic in Nevada. Adam¡¯s baby? Keiths Baby? I wasn¡¯t sure. The thought makes my throat tighten with emotions I can¡¯t process, grief, guilt, anger, love. But when I saw her the day she entered the world I knew. She had Adam¡¯s eyes. I was overjoyed despite not wanting to be a mother. Eve¡¯s crying grows more insistent. I rock her mechanically, my eyes still fixed on the machine¡¯s spinning wheels. The slot machine mocks me with another losing spin. I stare at it for a long moment, feeling something inside me finally break. Eve¡¯s whimpering has become a constant background noise that I¡¯ve somehow learned to tune out, and that realization hits me like a slap to the face. I take one last drag from my cigarette, the smoke burning my lungs, then extinguish it in the nearby ashtray with deliberate finality. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I whisper, more to myself than to Eve. ¡°We¡¯re done here.¡± I gather my meager belongings and stand up, cradling Eve against my chest. Her little body feels too warm against mine, her breathing still labored. The guilt is overwhelming now, impossible to ignore. I¡¯m a terrible mother. The thought crystallizes with perfect clarity as I walk out of the casino floor. Not just bad, completely unfit. Eve deserves better than me, better than cheap motels and secondhand smoke, and a mother who prioritizes gambling over her health. Adam¡¯s baby. Adam¡¯s eyes staring back at me every time I look at her face. And suddenly, I know exactly what I need to do. Back in our dismal motel room, I quickly pack our few belongings. less than eighty dollars left to my name, just enough for bus fare to Boston and maybe a meal or two along the way. ¡°We¡¯re going to get you help, baby girl,¡± I promise, my voice breaking. ¡°We¡¯re going to find someone who can take care of you properly.¡± Caterina. The name I¡¯ve avoided thinking about for months now forces its way into my consciousness. Adam¡¯s psychotic girlfriend, or wife, or whatever she is now. The woman who wants me dead. But she loves Adam. And this is Adam¡¯s child. ¡°She¡¯ll want you,¡± I whisper to Eve as I change her diaper. ¡°She¡¯ll give you everything I can¡¯t.¡± ¡®I hope.¡¯ I spend the night planning Eve¡¯s fitful sleep, punctuated by whimpers and coughs that twist my heart. By morning, my decision is solid. I¡¯ll go to Boston, find Jessica first, she seemed more reasonable than Caterina. I¡¯ll explain everything, hand over Eve, and then... then I¡¯ll disappear again. For good this time. ***** [Adam¡¯s POV] The plane ride back to Boston feels like torture. Every minute stretches into an eternity as my mind races with possibilities. A baby? My baby? It doesn¡¯t seem possible, yet Caterina sits beside me, stone-faced and silent, her knuckles white as she grips the armrest. The drive from the airport to Jessica¡¯s apartment passes in a blur. Caterina remains quiet, occasionally glancing at me with an expression I can¡¯t quite decipher. When we finally pull up to Jessica¡¯s building, my heart feels like it might burst from my chest. ¡°Cat,¡± I say as we stand outside Jessica¡¯s door, my voice barely audible. ¡°You¡¯re not going to...¡± As she knocks Caterina gives me an an impatient look and speaks bluntly, ¡°I¡¯m still processing, Adam.¡± In her own way, that¡¯s actually huge progress instead of flying off the handle. Before I can respond, the door swings open. Jessica stands there, holding a baby with brown eyes and brown hair. My world stops. Those are my eyes staring back at me. My hair. My nose. There¡¯s no question this child is mine. ¡°Her name is Eve,¡± Jessica says, her voice softer than I¡¯ve ever heard it. ¡°She¡¯s about two months old. Claire dropped her off yesterday and disappeared.¡± Eve makes a small cooing sound, her tiny fingers reaching toward me as if she somehow knows who I am. Something in my chest cracks open. ¡°Can I...¡± I extend my arms hesitantly. Jessica nods, carefully transferring Eve into my arms. She feels impossibly small, impossibly fragile. I adjust my hold, terrified I might hurt her with my mostly healed hands. ¡°Hey there,¡± I whisper, my voice trembling. ¡°I¡¯m your dad.¡± Eve looks up at me with wide, curious eyes, and suddenly, I¡¯m crying, tears streaming down my face without shame or restraint. ¡°She¡¯s been sick,¡± Jessica explains, ushering us inside. ¡°Claire wasn¡¯t taking care of her properly. I took her to a pediatrician this morning. Respiratory infection, but they¡¯ve given her antibiotics.¡± I barely hear her, lost in my daughter¡¯s gaze. When I finally look up, I find Caterina watching us, her expression unreadable. ¡°Cat?¡± I say softly. Caterina steps forward, her face a carefully controlled mask. For a moment, I fear the worst, that jealousy or anger will take over. But then she reaches out, her finger gently stroking Eve¡¯s cheek. ¡°She has your eyes,¡± Caterina says quietly. ¡°Exactly your eyes.¡± Eve makes a gurgling sound, her tiny hand reaching up to grab Caterina¡¯s finger. Something shifts in Caterina¡¯s expression. The same eyes she used to look at me. ¡°Is she okay?¡± Caterina asks Jessica, her voice suddenly all business. ¡°What does she need?¡± Jessica looks slightly taken aback by Caterina¡¯s practical tone. ¡°The doctor said she should recover with the medication, but she needs proper care, good formula, regular check-ups.¡± I pull Eve closer. ¡°We can do that,¡± I say, looking directly at Caterina. ¡°Right?¡± For a long moment, Caterina says nothing, just studies Eve¡¯s face with an intensity that makes me nervous. Then she meets my gaze. ¡°Of course we can,¡± she says simply. ¡°She¡¯s yours, which means she¡¯s ours.¡± Relief floods through me so powerfully I have to sit down on Jessica¡¯s couch. Eve squirms in my arms, making little fussing noises. ¡°She probably needs to be fed,¡± Jessica says, heading toward her kitchen. ¡°I got some of the formula the doctor recommended.¡± As Jessica bustles around preparing a bottle, I look up at Caterina. She¡¯s still standing, watching Eve with that same unreadable expression. ¡°Are you really okay with this?¡± I ask quietly. Caterina sits beside me, her shoulder pressing against mine. ¡°I won¡¯t pretend I¡¯m thrilled about Claire being back in the picture, even briefly,¡± she admits. ¡°But this child is innocent. We will make her apart of our family.¡± She reaches out, gently touching Eve¡¯s tiny fingers. ¡°Besides,¡± she adds with a slight smile, ¡°Imaging you as a Dad is sexy.¡± I chuckle with a blush. Jessica returns with a bottle, showing me how to hold it properly for Eve. As my daughter eagerly drinks, making little satisfied noises, I feel something settle inside me, a peace I didn¡¯t know I was missing. ¡°Claire left a note,¡± Jessica says hesitantly, pulling a crumpled paper from her pocket. I take the note with my free hand, trying to keep Eve steady in my other arm. The paper is wrinkled and smudged, covered in what looks like handwriting but might as well be ancient hieroglyphics for all I can make sense of it. I stare at the note, trying to read it. I shake my head as I give up, ¡°What¡¯s it say?¡± Jessica leans over my shoulder and squints at the paper. ¡°No, it¡¯s not just you. I have no idea what it says. Claire was really drunk when she dropped the baby off.¡± Caterina grabs the note from my hand with an impatient sigh. ¡°For Christ¡¯s sake,¡± she mutters, holding it up to the light and turning it different angles. She snorts and shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s fucking illegible. The only word I can clearly make out is ¡®DILF.¡¯¡± ¡°What the fuck?¡± A/N: I just want to thank everyone who stuck with story this long. It has been a wild ride, I feel as though I expirmented a lot with this story and ultimatly achieved what I set out to do. I am very proud of this work. Without you readers constantly giving me attention I would wilt up like a flower with no sun. You are all everything to me. Thank you. PS, Check out my new story My Girlfriend Doesn¡¯t Remember Me So I Guess I¡¯ll Date This Slime: A Reverse World Story sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Similar vibes, no torture (I don''t think.) With A yandere Slime female lead.