The curtains in the unfamiliar bedroom did little to block the sun. A faint golden light slipped through the gaps, catching dust in the air, as though even the particles were trapped here with her.
Mia stirred. Every muscle ached as though she had been running in her sleep. The memory of yesterday—the locked door, the cold stare of Luca, the way his words pressed against her chest like a blade—settled back over her. Her stomach turned before her eyes were even fully open.
The silence broke when the door clicked open. Several maids entered, their faces blank but stiff, as if their thoughts were being held under lock and key. They didn't meet her gaze, didn't speak until one finally stepped forward.
"Ma'am, we've been instructed to prepare you for breakfast."
Mia's grip tightened around the blanket. "Don't call me that," she whispered. The word felt wrong in her ears, like a name carved into her skin that didn't belong.
The maid's eyes flickered nervously to the door. "Please, ma'am. Don't make this harder."
"I don't want to go," Mia said, her voice sharper this time though it shook. "Tell him I'm not hungry."
The women exchanged glances, and one tried again, lowering her voice as though afraid someone might be listening. "Refusal won't protect you. If you resist, it will only be worse."
The dread in Mia's stomach swelled. She had barely found the courage to speak when another voice entered the room, smooth and mocking.
"Well, isn't this cozy?"
She froze. The man leaning against the wall wasn't Luca. His hair was darker, his posture looser, but the same unsettling sharpness lingered in his smile.
"Who are you?" she asked, clutching the blanket tighter.
"Viet," he said simply. "Luca's brother."
The maids bowed quickly and slipped out, leaving her alone with him.
Viet strolled across the room, inspecting the furnishings like he'd never seen them before. "I see why my brother bothers keeping you. You don't even realize what you've walked into, do you?"
Mia swallowed. "I don't want any part of this. I just want to leave."
"That's the point," Viet replied, smirking. "You don't get to choose. People like you—alone, forgotten—are the easiest to keep. No family, no strings. No one knocking when you disappear."
Her throat tightened. "You're monsters."
His laugh was low, unsettling. "Monster? You've met Luca, right? He carved that title years ago. Do you know what he did to our father?"
She didn't answer. Her silence seemed to please him more.
"He stabbed him fifteen times. Fifteen years old, standing in the kitchen, blood everywhere. Didn't even flinch while the old man begged. Just… kept going." Viet mimed the motion, stabbing the air, eyes gleaming with amusement.
The room felt smaller, the air heavier. Mia's hands shook beneath the blanket.
"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered.
"Because you should know the rules of this house," Viet said, leaning closer. "Luca isn't patient. He isn't merciful. And yet—he's obsessed with you. I can't decide if that makes you lucky or cursed."
Before Mia could respond, the door opened again.
"That's enough."
Luca's voice cut through the air, steady but filled with warning.
Viet shrugged casually, backing toward the door. "Just introducing myself." He shot Mia one last smile before slipping out, leaving silence in his wake.
Luca's eyes locked onto her. "Why aren't you dressed?"
Mia pressed herself into the headboard. "I told them I wasn't hungry."
His expression didn't shift, but something dangerous settled in his gaze. He crossed the room in measured steps, pulling a sleek pistol from his belt.
"You think you decide that?" He raised the gun, the barrel leveled at her head. "One more word of refusal, and I end this right now."
Her breath caught. The room tilted. She stayed frozen, unable to move even as he set the weapon aside.
From the dresser, he pulled out a black case and flipped it open. Metal gleamed inside—restraints, ropes, and tools she couldn't bear to name. Her stomach churned.
"Please…" she whispered.
He didn't answer. The cuffs snapped around her wrists, then her ankles, every click sinking deeper into her chest. When the blindfold slipped over her eyes, the world fell into suffocating black.
The first crack of leather against the mattress made her flinch violently. The second strike grazed her skin, a sting that burned long after it landed. Her scream caught in her throat, muffled by his hand.
"No one will hear you," he hissed near her ear. "Not here."
The whip landed again. Her body jolted, sobs tearing through her despite her struggle to stay quiet.
"Pain teaches faster than words," Luca said calmly, as though explaining a lesson. Another strike followed. "Every refusal earns you this."
When he finally released her from the chains, she collapsed onto the floor, gasping. Her skin throbbed, her body trembling too much to rise.
"Dinner. Seven o'clock. Don't be late," he said coldly, turning to leave. "Or I'll finish what I started."
The door slammed, the lock sliding into place again.
---
Dinner came too quickly. Guards escorted her down the hall, her legs heavy, each step a reminder of her bruises. The dining hall was enormous, the table stretching longer than any she had ever seen. Luca sat at the far end, eating silently. Viet lounged nearby, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"You look tired," Viet said, stabbing at his food. "Rough day?"
Mia ignored him, forcing herself into the chair.
"Don't let him see you waste food," Viet added when she tried to push her plate away.
Luca's eyes flicked up, sharp. "Eat."
Her stomach churned, but she obeyed. Every bite was like swallowing stones. By the time the meal ended, nausea settled deep in her chest.
---
The next morning, she barely stirred when the door opened. Expecting the maids, she turned away—until Luca's voice made her freeze.
He carried a small black kit, setting it on the table. "Sit up."
Her breath quickened.
When she hesitated, he pulled the lid open. Bandages, antiseptic, scissors.
A first aid kit.
"Take off the top," he said.
Confusion mixed with fear. She didn't move quickly enough, and he reached for her shirt, unbuttoning it himself. His hands were clinical, precise, as he pressed the antiseptic to her wounds. The sting made her gasp.
From the doorway, Viet's voice cut in. "Well, isn't this sweet? The devil himself playing nurse."
"Get out," Luca said without looking up.
Viet smirked, lingering. "Careful, brother. Don't grow too attached." His laughter echoed down the hall as he left.
Luca wrapped the bandage tightly, his expression unreadable. "Stop shaking," he muttered. "I can't fix you if you don't hold still."
Fix me? The words nearly tore a scream from her throat. He was the one who broke her.
When he finished, he closed the kit and stood. "Now you won't have an excuse to be useless."
Without another glance, he walked out, leaving her bandaged but no less imprisoned.