The poison burned a hole through my conscience long before it touched his lips.
It sat in a tiny amber vial tucked beneath my garter, right next to my trembling thigh. I had bought it from a crooked pharmacist who didn't care why a girl like me, with hollow eyes and a shaking voice, would need something that could kill a man in seconds. She didn't ask. She just took the money and gave me a smirk.
For two nights, I stared at the bottle in my room—its promise, its escape. Kendrick had taken everything from me. My freedom. My choices. My dignity. But this? This was mine. My decision. My vengeance.
I waited until the morning he requested his usual: Assam tea, with no sugar, no milk, steeped dark and bold. Just like him—strong, bitter, and unyielding.
I stood in the kitchen, silent, the steam of the kettle fogging the windows as if the house itself was holding its breath. My hands shook only once, when I reached for the vial. Just two drops. Clear, odorless, tasteless. It slid into the tea like a ghost.
A perfect, silent death.
When I brought the cup to his study, I wore a soft smile. I kept my eyes low, like always. I couldn't afford even a flicker of suspicion. He was reading something on his tablet, dressed in a charcoal robe that clung to his form like a second skin. His hair was tousled from sleep, but his eyes were already awake—sharp and predatory.
"Your tea, Sir," I whispered, placing the cup gently on the table beside him.
He looked up slowly, eyes narrowing, studying me.
Something was wrong. I could see it in the way his fingers curled but didn't reach for the cup.
"Come here," he said.
I walked to his side, heartbeat slamming in my chest. His fingers reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face, but the touch wasn't gentle. It was searching. Calculating.
"You made it yourself?" he asked, voice smooth but edged with steel.
"Yes, Sir," I lied.
"Then take a sip."
My breath caught. "What?"
He leaned in, his gaze hardening. "Drink it."
My lips parted but no words came. My heart plummeted to my stomach. I hadn't planned for this.
"Why won't you?" he asked softly, standing up so abruptly that the chair screeched against the floor. "You always obey me, don't you?"
I stepped back, but he grabbed my wrist. His grip was ice around my bones.
"I—I'm not thirsty."
His lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl. "Wrong answer."
In one fluid motion, he threw the cup against the wall. Glass shattered. Tea splattered like blood on white paint.
"You tried to poison me," he growled, dragging me by the wrist toward the door. "You stupid, stupid little thing."
"No—please, Kendrick—I didn't—"
"LIE TO ME AGAIN, AND I'LL CARVE YOUR TONGUE OUT."
His voice was thunder. My legs buckled.
He didn't speak again until we were in the car. The driver didn't flinch when Kendrick barked, "Lake house. Now." He didn't ask questions. No one ever did.
The silence during the drive was suffocating. I could feel the fury radiating from him, but he didn't say a word. Just stared out the window, jaw clenched, his thigh brushing mine with every turn. Every time his leg touched me, I felt like a deer caught in a hunter's scope.
When we reached the lake house..a secluded mansion wrapped in silence and secrets—he dragged me out of the car and inside. The door slammed shut behind us, the echo thunderous.
Then he turned to me.
"I gave you everything," he said, voice low, shaking. "Food. Shelter. Protection. And you repay me with this?"
His eyes weren't just angry. They were betrayed. And that made him more dangerous than ever.
"I was desperate," I whispered. "You've ruined my life."
He grabbed my face. "No, Bekky. I own your life. And if you ever try to take mine again... I'll make sure you remember who you belong to."
Before I could speak, he yanked me by the hair and dragged me into the main room—walls lined with windows, a fireplace roaring even though it wasn't cold.
There were chains bolted into the wall. I hadn't noticed them the first time we came here.
He pulled my wrists up and locked them in place, the cold metal biting into my skin.
"Kendrick, please…" I sobbed, my knees buckling.
But he was already undressing. Not slowly. Not sensually. This wasn't seduction. This was punishment.
His shirt dropped to the floor. Then his belt.
He came behind me, his heat searing my back. I whimpered when I felt his chest press against my bound form.
"You want to taste poison?" he hissed in my ear. "Then taste me instead."
His hand snaked between my legs, rough and unyielding, parting me forcefully. I gasped, tears already slipping down my cheeks.
"No-don't-please…"
He didn't care. His fingers were cruel, not seeking to please but to claim. To remind me who I was his captive, his possession.
When he entered me, it was without mercy.
I screamed, the sound ripping from my throat, echoing off the walls. The chains rattled as I pulled against them, but there was no escape. His rhythm was brutal, relentless, each thrust a reminder of his power, each breath in my ear a threat.
"You thought you could kill me," he growled, his voice broken with rage. "You thought you could walk away."
"I'm sorry!" I cried. "I won't do it again please!"
"Too late."
He grabbed my throat from behind, squeezing just enough to make the room spin. My sobs turned to gasps, my body trembling under his. He didn't stop. Not when I begged. Not when I screamed until my voice gave out. Not even when my legs collapsed and I hung limp in the chains.
He finished with a growl, pressing into me so hard it felt like he wanted to fuse our bodies into one.
Then nothing.
Silence.
I must have passed out. Because when I woke up next, the light was harsh and sterile. I was in a white room. A hospital.
My wrists were bandaged. My throat sore. My body felt like it had been broken apart and sewn back together wrong.
I blinked, trying to sit up, but a soft voice stopped me.
"Don't move too quickly."
A nurse. Young. Pale. Afraid to meet my eyes.
I looked around. No guards. No chains. But the fear hadn't left my bones. It never would.
I wasn't free. Just healing. Until he came back.
And I knew he would.
Because Kendrick Hale didn't let go of what was his.