HUNTER'S POV

Alaric's mansion,
08:04 pm

Hunter stormed into Alaric's mansion by himself, his expression a mix of anger and concern. "это был ты?"(Was it you?) His voice echoed in the opulent study room.

Alaric turned to find his brother, who was surrounded by his men, but that didn't affect Hunter a bit.

Alaric dismissed them all with a simple hand gesture. "Take a load off." Alaric offered a seat across the table.

Hunter placed his palms on the table and leaned. "I need to know if your men attacked Dash!" He urged.

Alaric leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he began to play with a pen in his hands." Why was he sniffing around my territory?"

Hunter didn't care to explain. "I don't want to believe your men did this, but if they did-" Hunter fisted his injured hand and slammed it on the table loudly in a threatening way, his voice low and exacting. "If your crew laid a finger on him, you know what that means for our truce. We both have too much to lose to let this escalate." His warning index finger and clinched jaw were proof that he was not gonna spare a single being involved in this case.

"I have no interest in starting a war over a foolish mistake. But if Dash was in my domain, he should've known the risks." Alaric cleared.

Hunter clenched his jaw, frustration boiling inside. "I'm not here to babysit your ego. I expect a straight answer." He demanded.

Alaric met his gaze, the tension thick between them. "I didn't touch him. But if he's in my region again, I can't promise he'll walk away unscathed. You know how it is."

"My men have no interest poking their nose in your business either. They'd never cross the border if not needed." Hunter defended straightening his poster.

Alaric leaned in. "Tell me, what I could provide?"

"If it wasn't your men them who dared?" Hunter questioned.

Alaric chuckled. "I don't know but whoever did it is so hella brave."

"Or f*cking naive." Hunter gritted his teeth.

"Might be locals," Alaric suggested.

Hunter shook his head. "Locals know better than laying a finger on kings. They won't even try."

"You mean-"

"Italians." Hunter completed the sentence."Make sure tomorrow's sun won't rise for them, otherwise I'll take this game in my hands." With that Hunter walked away.

He settled into his car and sharply turned it toward the highway. His speed increased as his thoughts returned to the distressing image of his two most beloved ones being injured at that very moment.

"F*CK!" With a frustrated groan, he struck the steering wheel, the sound echoing his inner turmoil.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, fueled by a seething desire for revenge that burned within him.

Just then, he ran his fingers through his hair, and his mobile buzzed. He retrieved it from his coat pocket and answered the call.

"Proceed." He dictated.

"Good evening, Chief. The tests on Sybil Dair are now complete. You'll get the reports within an hour," the doctor informed him.

"Alright," he replied tersely, dismissing the call with a single word.

He had ordered these tests because he had committed unforgivable acts against innocent people. He isn't regretting his past; instead, he is confronting it through her.

Sybil has brought back memories of the night when he was tied to a chair alongside Grace on his island, her hopeful voice calling his name still echoes in his mind. Sybil had done the same, striving to make him believe in her words.

And, to some extent, she had succeeded.

Her eyes. There's something about her eyes. They scream innocence, and he can't deny it. They challenge his beliefs.
Makes him question his judgments.

He knew she couldn't be trusted, yet he felt compelled to seek the truth from multiple perspectives.

So, he sent Dash to her dance academy, where she worked as a dance coach, hoping to uncover clues-whether in her defense or against her.

The endless trace of thoughts came to pause as soon as he approached his basements and parked his car in a swift motion. He went towards the door and descended downstairs. That's how the basement was designed.

He was about to pass by the forensic lab when he saw a glimpse of Sybil's unconscious form.

He walked in, taking off his coat. He loosened his tie and opened the top three buttons of his shirt to relax his muscles before settling on the couch across the room. He rested his head on the headrest and closed his eyes. Feeling the warmth of the log-burning stove located beside him.

The face shows up again. The fact that he couldn't forget no matter how hard he tried.

Grace.

Soon, a man entered, placing a file on the table in front of Hunter. He sat up, dismissing the man with a flick of his finger, his mind racing. As he opened the file, his eyes darted over the contents, each word heavy with consequence.

These results were the only barrier between Sybil's freedom and a lifetime of regret. He was determined-there was no way he would kill her; that would be too easy. What he had planned for her was something far more terrifying than death itself.

His grip on the file tightened as he read the reports. They were negative. This meant that whatever had transpired, Sybil was fully aware of everything.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. In a fit of rage, he shoved the file into the flames of the stove beside him, watching as the paper curled and blackened, the smoke swirling into the air, filling the room with a suffocating haze.

As the smoke thickened, he noticed Sybil stirring. She coughed violently, her eyes blinking open to reveal a mix of confusion and pain. Her brow furrowed as she struggled to focus, the room around her a blurry nightmare shrouded in gray. She tried to push herself up, instinctively wanting to escape, but the IVs tethering her to the medical equipment held her back, pulling at her skin uncomfortably.

"Watch out." Hunter's voice snapped her head towards him who was visible more like a silhouette from the distance. She looked up at the dextrose bottle handing to a pole beside her.

The panic in her eyes was on point, as she had no idea what was being pumped into her veins. But this time she wasn't fighting, wasn't asking anything like she has always been. She was numb.

Losing one of the parents isn't a joke.

Hunter approached her chair-bed, and as he did, he caught her gaze. He noticed her eyes brimming with unshed tears, a sight that stirred a complex mix of emotions within him. Strangely, the pain reflected in those orbs brought him a sense of peace. He observed her lips part slightly, the lower one beginning to tremble, revealing the depth of her vulnerability in that moment.

"You killed her?" She managed to speak standing in front of him. "How could you do this?" She began to beat his chest.

Hunter chuckled at her little attempts. "Is that all you have got? I've seen toddlers hitting harder."

"My mum..." Her voice wobbled. "Why did you do that to her?" She yelled shaking him by his collar.

Hunter grabbed her wrists in a firm grip of his hands and folded them back behind her back pulling her flush against himself to still her completely.

As she looked up, he tightened his grip, showing her who was in charge there. She gave him a filthy look. "Don't you have a mother? How do you sleep with blood-scattered hands?"

Hunter smirked, leaning closer enough for his breath to fan her face. "Trust me, darling, we don't." He whispered in her ear.

She wiggled to get herself free.

"Ahn...ahn...ahn... It's just the beginning, You have got so much more to lose." His one hand held her captive while the other slowly trailed up in a contaminated way, a silent reminder of what he could do to her precious dignity.

Sybil shook her head and looked into his eyes while hers were red and swollen but not vulnerable. "Don't." For the first time, her voice was firm, commanding.

"I see courage." He chuckled and turned his touch dirtier and rougher. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

He had no idea that a simple touch of his fingertips was more disturbing for her than him beating her with a leather belt.

"You're trembling with fear." His voice was dripping with excitement and was vibrating against her neck. "That only makes this more... tantalizing. Fear is a powerful motivator, sweetheart. And I'm going to use it to my advantage." He nipped at her skin, his intentions were clear like a day.

"What if you'll find out that I'm innocent later?" She dared to speak, making him pull away enough to look down at her face.

"Do you think each one of my prisoners here is a sinner?" He chuckled at her innocence. "Some are here for... my pleasure proposes."

"You are a beast." She yelled in his face.

"Ah, finally. You're starting to understand." He chuckled. "Soon you'll learn to obey as well."

"Kill me if you must, but I'll not give in for this." She declared, looking into his green eyes deeply.

"Strong words from such a fragile thing." He liked the way how her fear made her stronger. He loves challenges because he always wins."Tell me how exactly you'd escape me?" He smirked, lifting his hand and showing her the biting mark given by her on his wrist. "Like this?" He humiliated her.

"Does it make you feel powerful, making someone vulnerable? Someone helpless begs for their life, for their freedom. for their dignity." She asked with trembling lips.

"Dignity you say?" He laughed darkly. "Strippers don't have any. And as for vulnerability... you haven't learned this term right yet, sweetheart. The torture you have gone through is just a glimpse of what I could do to you. You have a long way to walk on." His hand trailed up holding her throat tightly enough to block her windpipe that turned her face red with each passing seconds as she struggled to suck oxygen.

"You'll be begging, my dear. That's when you'll know what vulnerabilities are. You'll be amazed to know just how much of the strength your body holds."

• In the mafia's world, truth is sometimes just an illusion.

Chapter Published On: 20 October 2024.

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