Chapter 6: Caught in His Grip
Akin stared into Rolex Night's eyes, those cold, dark pools that seemed to see right through him. His heart pounded, too fast, too loud, like it might break his ribs. Tears stung his eyes, spilling down his cheeks before he could stop them. He didn't care anymore—he was scared, trapped, and alone. "Please," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Just let me go. I don't belong here."
Rolex's face didn't change, but a low chuckle rumbled from his throat, sharp and mocking. He leaned closer, his presence heavy, like the air itself was bowing to him. "Let you go?" he said, his voice smooth but cold as ice. "You're a repayment, boy. Your father sold you to clear his debt. You don't get a say in this."
Akin's breath hitched, his tears falling faster. "I'm not some thing you can just own!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "I'm a person! You can't do this to me!"
Rolex's eyes narrowed, and he shoved Akin back onto the bed, hard. Akin scrambled to move away, his back hitting the wall, the cuffs on his wrists clinking. "You think you can talk to me like that?" Rolex said, his voice low, dangerous. "You're nothing here. Just a debt paid."
Akin's chest heaved, fear and anger twisting inside him. "Why me?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost a plea. "What did I ever do to you?"
Rolex stared at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Akin thought he saw something flicker in those dark eyes—something not so cold. But then Rolex turned, his coat flaring as he walked to the door. He stopped, glancing back at Akin one last time, silent, his gaze heavy. Then he walked out, the door slamming shut, the lock clicking into place.
Akin sat there, cold and shaking, tears streaming down his face. His whole life had been one hell after another—his father's fists, Ring's bullying, and now this. Sold like he was nothing. He curled up on the thin bed, the chain tugging at his wrists. "Why does it have to be Mr. Night?" he muttered, his voice thick with tears. "Why does my dad hate me so much?" He closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling at him. Sleep came fast, a heavy, dreamless escape.
---
When Akin opened his eyes, the room was brighter, morning light slipping through a high, narrow window. He blinked, his head still aching, his wrists sore from the cuffs. He sat up, his heart freezing as he saw Rolex sitting in a chair across the room, staring at him. Those dark eyes were cold, unblinking, like a predator watching prey. Akin's breath caught, and he pressed himself against the wall, as far as the chain would let him go.
"What do you want?" Akin asked, his voice hoarse. "Why are you here?"
Rolex stood, his movements slow, deliberate. He walked toward the bed, his boots echoing on the stone floor. "You talk too much," he said, his voice low but sharp. He reached down, his fingers brushing the cuffs. With a quick twist, he unlocked them, the metal falling away. Akin rubbed his wrists, staring at Rolex, confused and scared.
"What's going on?" Akin asked, his voice trembling. "Why'd you do that?"
Rolex's eyes flicked over him, and for a second, something changed in his face—not cold, not cruel, but something softer, like he was fighting himself. He lifted a hand, as if to touch Akin's face, but stopped, his fingers hovering in the air. He pulled back, his jaw tight. "Get up," he said, his voice rough. "You're filthy. Go take a bath."
Akin blinked, his heart racing. "A bath?" he said, confused. "Why? What are you playing at?"
Rolex's lips twitched, almost a smile, but it was gone fast. "You don't ask questions," he said. "You follow rules. Or you'll hate what happens next."
Akin didn't move, his eyes locked on Rolex. The man's voice was cold, but there was something else there, something that made Akin's chest feel strange, like a pull he couldn't name. "I'm not your toy," he said, his voice shaking but defiant. "You can't just order me around."
Rolex grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet. "You're whatever I say you are," he said, his grip tight but not painful. "Now move."
Akin stumbled as Rolex pulled him out of the room, down a hall, and into a bathroom. It was huge, all white tile and gleaming fixtures, nothing like the grimy sink back at his apartment. A tub sat in the center, already filled with steaming water. Akin stood there, his hands clutching his torn shirt, his heart pounding. He glanced at Rolex, who leaned against the doorframe, watching him.
"Go on," Rolex said, his voice low, almost amused. "What are you waiting for?"
Akin's face burned. "Turn around," he said, his voice small but firm. "I'm not… I'm not doing this with you watching."
Rolex chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Akin's spine. "Nothing to hide, boy," he said, stepping closer. "I've seen plenty of what's under those clothes. Touched it, too, more times than you can imagine."
Akin's whole body went cold, his hands frozen on his shirt. "What?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "What do you mean?"
Rolex's eyes gleamed, like he was enjoying Akin's fear. "You're not special," he said, his voice mocking. "Just another body. Now strip, or I'll do it for you."
Akin's hands shook as he gripped his shirt tighter. He didn't know what to do—his mind was screaming to run, but there was nowhere to go. Rolex took another step, his presence overwhelming, and reached for Akin's waistband, his fingers brushing the edge of his boxers. Akin flinched, stepping back, but his foot slipped on the slick tile. He stumbled, his arms flailing as he fell toward the floor.
Before he hit the ground, Rolex's arm shot out, catching him. Their eyes locked, inches apart. Akin's breath stopped, his heart hammering. Rolex's face was unreadable, but his grip was strong, almost protective. That strange pull was back, stronger now, like something inside Akin was reaching for Rolex, despite the fear.