The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.
Mia pressed her ear to the heavy wooden door of her room, her heartbeat echoing in her skull louder than the silence around her. She had spent the entire night awake, her thoughts haunted by the sounds that had ripped through the house—the screams, the thuds, the harsh laughter. Viet's screams. The memory of his pain still lingered, a cold knot in her stomach. Every echo reminded her exactly what Luca was capable of, and she couldn't stand the weight of it any longer. If she stayed here, if she didn't do something… she feared she would lose herself completely.
She had to try.
Her hands shook violently as she dug under the dresser, fingers brushing against the small metal pin she'd found earlier, hidden there by chance—or maybe by mistake. She slid it into the lock, careful not to make a sound, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Please… please work…
Click.
The lock turned, the door creaking open just enough for her to slip through. Her chest tightened with a fragile spark of hope. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it: the open air, the freedom beyond the mansion walls, the trees of the forest calling her name.
She moved slowly, each step deliberate, her bare feet pressing against the cold marble of the hallway. Shadows clung to every corner, twisting into shapes that might be monsters in the dim light. The staircase at the far end of the hall called to her, a promise of escape.
Freedom. Just a few steps more, and she could be gone. She could run, vanish into the dark, leave this house—and Luca—behind forever.
"Mia."
Her heart stopped.
The voice—low, sharp, ice-cold—sliced through the air, rooting her to the spot. Her breath hitched. Slowly, fearfully, she turned.
Luca.
He leaned casually against the wall, arms folded across his chest, but his eyes burned with a fire she couldn't ignore. They pierced her like daggers, stripping her bare. Her throat went dry, her lips refusing to form words.
He pushed himself off the wall, each step measured, echoing through the silent hallway like a drum of judgment. "You really thought you could walk out of my house?" His voice was calm, but every word carried the weight of a storm ready to break.
"I… I wasn't…" she tried, her voice trembling, faltering as she backed away.
"Don't." His tone was sharp, slicing through her excuse. "Don't lie to me, Mia."
The hallway seemed to shrink around her. She bumped against the wall, trapped. Her legs shook violently, threatening to give out beneath her.
Luca stopped just inches from her, towering over her trembling frame. His jaw was tight, his eyes dark and merciless. "Do you have any idea what would have happened to you out there? Alone? Vulnerable? Weak? People would have eaten you alive."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her voice broke as she whispered, "I… I don't care. I just… I just want to leave."
Silence fell. Heavy, suffocating. Then, a sharp slam of his hand against the wall beside her head made her flinch, her body trembling under the sudden force.
"You belong to me," he growled, close enough for her to feel his breath. "You don't get to leave. Not now. Not ever."
She squeezed her eyes shut, silent sobs shaking her chest. This wasn't just fear. It was despair, raw and all-consuming.
For the first time, Luca wasn't calm. He wasn't composed. He was furious. Not because she had tried to run, but because she had dared to defy him.
His fingers clamped around her wrist, iron-strong. "Come," he ordered, his voice slicing through the air like a blade.
"No… please—please don't—" she cried, panic rising in her throat.
He didn't listen. He dragged her down the hall, her bare feet scraping against the cold marble as she struggled to resist. When she stumbled, he pulled harder, unyielding, merciless.
Back in her room, the door slammed shut behind them with a finality that made her heart plummet. The lock clicked again. She was trapped. Worse than before.
He pushed her gently but firmly onto the bed. She trembled, tears streaking her pale face, watching as he moved toward the dresser. His hands were steady, precise, as he pulled open a drawer and retrieved a leather belt, coiled neatly inside.
"No… n-no," she whispered, panic rising again.
He turned to her, expression unreadable, calm and deadly serious. "You think this is a game?" he asked softly, stepping toward her. "You think you can spit in my face by running away?"
"I just… I just wanted to go home—" she stammered.
"There is no home for you anymore," he said sharply, his eyes locking onto hers. "You are home. With me."
He dropped the belt onto the bed beside her. The weight of it made her flinch. But he didn't raise it. Instead, he leaned closer, gripping her chin tightly to force her eyes to meet his.
"You don't get to run," he said, his words deliberate, cutting through her like knives. "You don't get to decide anything. You breathe because I allow it. You stay alive because I want you alive."
Mia sobbed, chest rising and falling in shallow, shaky gasps.
He loosened his grip slightly, sitting at the edge of the bed. "I could have let Viet touch you. I could have let him ruin you. But I didn't," he whispered, voice breaking like fire. "And this is how you repay me? By trying to run?"
"I'm… sorry," she whispered, trembling violently. "I won't… I won't do it again. I promise."
A tense silence hung between them. Then Luca smirked faintly, lips brushing her ear. "You'll regret making me doubt you."
He lifted the belt, uncoiling it slowly. The sound of the leather sliding through his hands sent shivers down her spine.
"Stand," he commanded.
Her knees were weak, but she obeyed, trembling as she pushed herself to her feet, staring at the floor, unwilling to meet his gaze.
"Look at me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes locking with his. Cold. Unflinching. Merciless.
"Hands," he ordered.
Her hands shook as she lifted them. He grabbed her wrists roughly, binding them together with the belt before she could resist. The leather cut into her skin, biting sharply.
He pushed her back onto the bed, arms pinned above her head. Metal cuffs with a chain attached appeared next, locking her hands to the headboard within seconds.
"No… please… I won't run again—I promise…"
"Too late."
The first strike of the belt cracked across her thigh. She screamed, body jerking against the restraints, but she couldn't escape. The next lash burned her arm, spreading a fiery sting that made her chest tighten.
"I'm sorry! Please, I'm sorry!" she cried.
He didn't stop. Strike after strike followed, a relentless rhythm that hammered home his control. It wasn't about hurting her—it was about making sure she knew who held the power. Who she belonged to. That escape wasn't an option.
Finally, he dropped the belt, breathing heavily, jaw clenched, eyes still sharp with fury and something darker.
She lay sobbing, trembling, red marks forming across her skin.
He stepped closer, cupping her face with a hand, brushing away a tear. Almost gentle. Almost.
"You'll remember," he whispered, low and firm. "You're mine. Nothing in this world will ever change that."
He unlocked her wrists, but she was too weak to move, collapsing into the pillows, breath shallow, eyes glazed with fear.
Luca picked up the belt, turning toward the door. Before leaving, he looked back.
"If you ever try that again… the punishment will be worse."
The door slammed shut.
Mia lay there, broken and trembling. The chains were gone, but the weight of his control, his presence, his ownership, remained. And deep down, she knew—she would never be free.