⚠️ Disclaimer:This chapter is a fictional work. It contains strong themes of trauma, attempted assault, and violence. It does not aim to harm, offend, or disrespect anyone. Instead, it is written to highlight strength, survival, and the power of fighting back against oppression.
The air was poisoned by his words before his hands even touched me.
Chapter 36 — POV: Lyra
"Your sister… was se*y."
The phrase was a knife—one that twisted through time, dragging me back to the night I lost her. My vision blurred, not from pain, but from fury so thick it burned through my veins.
He leaned in, mask tilting, his breath warm, his tone taunting. His hand slid lower, brushing over the slit in my dress, camera recording every second of my humiliation.
"You'll scream just like she did."
The shorter one slammed my head back against the metal floor. My skull rang. My body jerked. And then—the darkness swallowed me whole.
When I opened my eyes, the world was a blur. My body was slumped sideways, wrists raw from rope, breath shallow. The leader crouched over me, his filthy hand pressing against my thigh, the slit of my dress exposing more than it shouldn't. My chest was bare where the fabric had slipped. His fingers trailed upward, his eyes hungry, the camera still rolling.
A cold wave of horror ripped through me. My body trembled, humiliation burning like acid.
But then—fury.
Through the haze, I spotted it. A black jacket discarded nearby. With trembling strength, I lunged sideways, yanking it around my body, tying it tight around my hips, sealing away the shame he had tried to carve into me.
And in that second, something inside me snapped.
"You think I'm weak?" My voice was hoarse but sharp as glass.
I yanked my hands, the rope loosening just enough. My fingers scraped metal—something cold, something real. A gun.
Adrenaline surged through me. My left arm was heavy, almost numb, but I forced it up.
The leader's grin faltered.
Bang.
The shot cracked like thunder. He jerked back, collapsing, blood spreading across his chest like justice written in red.
I staggered to my feet, hair falling across my face, the jacket clinging to me. My breaths came ragged, but rage kept me standing.
And then I was on him.
"You killed my sister!" My fists slammed into his mask again and again until bone cracked beneath my knuckles. "And you thought you could touch me—violate me—like I was nothing!"
Tears streaked down my blood-smeared face.
"You bast**d! You have no right to live!"
The shorter one froze, horror in his eyes. He stumbled back, then bolted for the exit, leaving me alone with the corpse of the man who had destroyed my past and tried to destroy my future.
But I wasn't finished.
"You monsters think women are weak!" I roared, pounding his chest until my arms shook. "You think we're here to serve, to bow, to break under you—"
I ripped his mask away, spit flying onto his lifeless face.
"—but we are not your toys. We are not your shadows. We are not yours to touch!"
My voice rose, fierce and feral, echoing off the steel walls.
"This is what you earn. This is your karma. Every time you look at a woman as prey—you dig your own grave!"
The silence after was deafening. My chest heaved. My hands were torn and bleeding. For the first time, I looked at him not as my captor, not as my nightmare, but as what he truly was.
A beast.Dead.
And in killing him, I had become something else too.
Not a victim.Not innocent.Something in between.
The gun slipped from my hand, clattering against the floor. My breaths came in jagged bursts, and my eyes blurred as I realized—I was standing, but I was not whole.
The door slammed open.
Boots thundered. Shouts filled the room.
And then—him.
"Lyra."
Kieller's voice was raw, rougher than I had ever heard it. He froze, his eyes locking onto me: my torn dress hidden beneath the jacket, my fists dripping blood, the corpse sprawled beneath me.
His men raised their weapons but hesitated, unsure who the danger was anymore—me or the body at my feet.
I couldn't meet his eyes. Not yet.
Because for the first time… I wasn't sure what he'd see.
Not as a queen.Not as his rival.Not even his equal.
But a killer.