The room was dim.
Only one light flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows across the walls—like beasts waiting to pounce.
The air was suffocating.
As if it still remembered the screams once trapped inside.
At the center stood Igor Morozov.
Tall. Unmoving.
Black gloves clasped behind his back.
Eyes cold enough to freeze blood.
He didn't need words to command fear.
His silence did that for him.
He looked like he'd been carved from cruelty itself.
The kind of man who only smiled when someone broke.
Footsteps echoed—sharp, hesitant.
A man stepped in, boots cracking like gunshots on the cement.
"Sir…" he began, voice cracking under the weight of the air.
Igor didn't look at him.
He just spoke—low and razor-sharp:
"Tell her to meet me here. Now."
The man stiffened.
"Y-Yes, Boss."
He turned and left fast.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Igor didn't move.
He didn't need to.
The room—and everyone in it—already belonged to him.
---
In a quiet wing of the mansion…
A young woman sat on the edge of her bed.
Posture straight. Eyes unfocused.
Kiri.
Beautiful—but hollow.
A book rested in her lap.
Her eyes scanned the words, but none of them landed.
Each page turned like clockwork. Mechanical. Cold.
The room reflected her:
Neat. Restrained. Distant.
No curtains. No framed photos. No warmth.
Just shelves of books.
A desk.
A bed tucked like a soldier's cot.
It didn't feel lived in.
It felt allowed.
A knock broke the stillness.
Sharp. Careful.
She didn't flinch.
A voice came through, stiff with tension:
"Miss… The Boss wants to see you. Now."
No "please."
No "if you're free."
Just a command. Like always.
Kiri closed the book.
Her fingers paused on the cover… a second too long.
Then she stood.
Bare feet touched the cold floor.
No reaction. No expression.
Because in Igor Morozov's world,
There was no room for softness.
Only survival.
---
Marble halls. Silent steps.
But whispers followed her.
"I heard she's being married off to the Virells…"
"That Damon Virell… he's rotten."
"Didn't he sleep with a married woman?"
"Poor girl."
Kiri didn't react.
But her fingers curled ever so slightly at her sides.
She didn't want to marry Damon Virell.
But what she wanted never mattered.
In this house, she was a name to be traded.
A pawn for power.
And if the rumors were true…
Then the aisle might lead straight into hell.
---
The oak doors creaked open.
Kiri stepped inside.
The room pulsed with authority.
Shadows spilled across the polished floors.
By the tall windows stood Igor Morozov—still, silent.
Her father.
Feared beyond borders.
His ambition sharper than any blade.
She stopped a few feet away and lowered her eyes.
"Yes, Father?"
He didn't turn.
Didn't waste time.
"This evening, you will meet your fiancé."
A breath hitched in her chest.
But her face didn't change.
"He's going hunting in the jungle. You will accompany him."
Only then did he turn.
Steel gaze locking with hers.
"This engagement is important for our alliance with the Virells."
"Convince that boy to marry you."
"By any means necessary. Use your brain or your body. I don't care."
Her throat tightened.
No question.
No consent.
Because her will had never mattered.
But Kiri didn't protest.
Didn't ask why.
She simply said, quietly:
"Yes, Father."
She turned. Walked away.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Only then…
A breath. Just one. Hitched.
No tears.
No screams.
Just that moment—
Where something inside her locked away again.
---
The jungle pulsed with heat and sound.
Insects buzzed. Leaves whispered. A bird cried—
Bang.
Silence.
Damon Virell stood in the clearing.
Black cargo gear clung to him.
A rifle rested against his shoulder like it was born there.
Smug. Dangerous.
Sin made flesh.
A few feet away, Kiri sat beneath a tree.
Swatting mosquitoes. Sighing.
Her white blouse stuck to her skin, braid messy and damp.
She looked wildly out of place.
"You're really that desperate for my attention, sweetheart?"
Damon didn't even glance her way.
Just reloaded his rifle, slow and lazy.
"Following me into the jungle like a little lost puppy…"
He finally looked—
Predator's gaze. Bored and amused.
"Tsk. I might've spared a second look… if you didn't look so painfully average."
The words stung.
Not sharp—worse.
Indifferent.
Kiri didn't blink.
"You really are delusional."
"I don't care about you."
Damon paused.
Lowered his rifle. Studied her.
Then smirked.
"Oh, really?"
"You came dressed like a cheap little treat and thought no one would notice? Save the act. You want attention—mine specifically."
His eyes raked her up and down.
"Well-prepared to seduce me… still pretending otherwise. Cute."
Kiri stood. Calm.
"That's exactly why I called you delusional."
"Do you think the world revolves around your attention span?"
She stared him down.
"If yes… you seriously need to see a doctor."
The jungle went still.
Then—he laughed.
A short, low chuckle.
He stepped forward. Too close.
Heat in every word.
"Looking this close… you're not that bad."
"I might even consider spending the night…"
"…if you obediently beg for it."
Kiri didn't move.
"Looking this close…"
"You really are a thick head."
"If you beg, I might consider not punching that stupid face of yours."
He faltered.
Then grinned.
"You know, sweetheart…"
"When someone plays hard to get…"
"It only makes me more excited."
He leaned closer.
Voice dark, dangerous.
"More thrilled to break them down."
Kiri didn't move.
Then sighed.
"If you're done with your nonsense…"
"Let's go back."
Damon chuckled.
"Is this your trick, darling?"
"It's working."
He turned away.
"We're not going anywhere. I've got more kills to make before dinner."
Kiri folded her arms.
"Kill all the animals, then."
"So the only dumb thing left in this jungle will be you."
He paused.
Laughed. Low and rough.
"Feisty."
"If I'm the dumb one… what does that make you?"
"The girl willing to marry me?"
Kiri gave a dry laugh.
"After hearing your logic-less remarks, I can confirm your mouth works—just not for anything smart."
"Why don't you use it to talk to your father and cancel this farce?"
Damon stepped in again.
His hand brushed her cheek.
"Judging my mouth already?"
"Wait till you find out what it's really good at."
Kiri shoved him—hard.
"Don't touch me."
He backed off with a grin.
"Who said I won't marry you?"
"I might enjoy having a pretty little wife who bites back."
"Makes the nights more… entertaining."
Kiri's voice stayed flat.
"But I don't want to marry a stupid dog with no loyalty."
"Even strays behave better."
He clicked his tongue.
"Tch… dangerous mouth you've got."
"I like it."
"But dumb animals don't play nice."
Kiri turned away.
"Play all you want."
"I'm going back."
He smirked.
She doesn't even know the way back. Ten minutes—she'll come running.
He lifted his rifle.
Bang.
Another bird fell.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
No sign of her.
His smirk faded.
"Stupid girl."
There was no heat behind it.
He stood.
Rifle forgotten.
"Tch. Idiot."
Then—
He started walking. Fast.
Mask cracking.
Worry bleeding through.
"If she's crying somewhere like a lost kitten, I swear—"
Faster now.
"Kiri."
Deeper. Hotter. No wind. No voice.
"KIRI—this isn't funny!"
Heart pounding.
"KIRI! ANSWER ME!"
Nothing.
Then—
He stopped.
Frozen.
Just behind the underbrush…
He saw something.