Kiaan sat alone in the dimly lit room, the cold glow of the computer screen illuminating his focused face. His fingers hovered over the locked files — the secret drug records linked to the killer Rex — yet his mind was tangled in darker memories. The sterile hum of the HQ faded around him as the past clawed its way back with relentless force.He closed his eyes briefly and the scene unfolded again — the blindfold wrapped tight, the harsh metal of handcuffs biting into his wrists behind his back. The soft bed beneath him felt like a trap, not a refuge. His skin had flushed, the heat from the mysterious injection coursing through his veins, making him dizzy, vulnerable. But what haunted him most wasn't the injection or the restraints. It was Rex.That cold, brutal presence looming over him, a shadow cloaked in sadistic power. Kiaan could still feel the roughness of Rex's hands — unyielding, violent, marking his body like a claim. His breath hitched at the memory of the spider, cruelly placed by Rex on his bare skin. A deliberate torment designed to cut deeper than pain — knowing Kiaan's arachnophobia, Rex pressed the eight cold legs against the most intimate, exposed part of his body.The sensation had made his muscles seize, his body betray him with trembling. He remembered how helpless he had felt, the helplessness sinking like poison. Even now, years later, the memory sent a shiver crawling down his spine. His fingers clenched into fists."Why mark me like that?" he muttered under his breath, voice rough with pain and rage. "Why make sure I never forget?"The room was silent but for his own heavy breathing. Kiaan's eyes snapped open, fierce and burning with resolve."No more."He pushed back from the desk and stood. His voice echoed in the empty room as he whispered to the shadows, "I'll take every part of him apart… and I won't let him ever touch me again."The mark on his wrist — Reyaan Malhotra — was a constant reminder of the past. But the spider on his skin… that was Rex's warning. Now, Kiaan's resolve was sharper than ever. The cold games, the sick games — he was ready to end them.
Outside, the night was thick, but inside Kiaan, a storm was building.