But when we returned, the cloth was gone.
I froze. My breath caught.
Ryan was bound to the circle, upside down, mouth gagged with cloth.
The laughter died.
I stared, unable to move. Ryan's eyes were wide, pleading, his muffled cries breaking through the gag. His body strained against the ropes, but they held him tight.
Kiril's eyes locked on mine, steady and unblinking. His voice was soft, almost tender.
"Now you understand."
I wanted to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. My mind raced back through the photographs, the stories, the laughter, the games. All of it had been leading here.
All of it had been meant to lower my guard, to make me trust him, to make me forget.
The circle loomed vast before me, knives glinting like teeth. Ryan's body trembled, his muffled voice desperate. I felt the weight of Kiril's gaze pressing down on me, holding me in place.
I thought of the way he had teased me, the way he had laughed, the way he had told me his childhood stories.
I thought of the warmth I had felt, the ease, the comfort. And now I saw it for what it was. A mask. A trap. A way to keep me close, to keep me blind, until this moment.
The room seemed to shrink around us. The silence pressed in, heavy, waiting, watching.
Kiril stepped closer, his smile sharp again. "This is where our friendship begins," he whispered.
I felt the words cut through me.
Friendship.
That was what he called it. But I saw the truth in his eyes. It wasn't friendship. It was possession. It was obsession. It was the need to keep me for himself, no matter the cost.
Ryan's muffled cry echoed in my ears. My heart pounded. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn't move. I wanted to speak, but my voice was gone.
Kiril's hand brushed mine, light, almost gentle.
"It`s my first gift for you", his voice steady and calm, "See, I brought you the one who betrayed to you".
"Betrayed?" I asked.
Kiril came closer, leaned over and whispered in my ears, "How does that matter anymore?". He stood behind me; his fingers brushed over my wrist.
And I don't know when he seized the opportunity to grasp one of those glinting daggers.
Before I could react, he pressed the cold steel into my palm, his own hand contracting over mine, tightening my grip until the blade felt like an extension of my arm.
He raised my hand high, forcing it to point directly at Ryan.
His breath brushed against my ear as he whispered, "Aim, Aiden… aim." The voice was different now—low, resonant, almost inhuman.
Each syllable slithered into my mind, and my vision blurred as though the world itself was dissolving.
What I could still see was Ryan—his body trembling, his eyes wide, pleading. It was as if Kiril's words had hypnotized me, pulling me into a trance where resistance felt impossible.
My head throbbed violently, pain swelling until it seemed ready to burst. His voice was no longer just sound; it was pressure, a hydraulic press crushing my thoughts, grinding my will into dust.
The only way to escape this misery was to obey, to follow his command. Yet my heart rebelled. It screamed against the idea, reminding me that Ryan was my only friend, the last anchor I had left.
I could not do it. I would not.
It wasn't that I couldn't escape this situation—there were ways, paths hidden in the chaos—but every possible outcome led to the same conclusion: the end of our friendship.
And after Kevin, after losing him, Ryan was the only one who had made me feel whole again. To lose him would mean losing myself.
I took a step back, the dagger trembling in my hand, raised to strike yet frozen in place. Inside me, a war raged—a civil war between my heart and my head.
My head begged for release, for an end to the torment, whispering that obedience was survival. But my heart fought back, relentless, reminding me that it was Ryan standing before me, not an enemy, not a traitor.
Kiril did not relent.
His voice kept pouring into me, those cursed words repeating, each one heavier than the last, each one making me regret every moment I had trusted him, every laugh, every story that had lulled me into lowering my guard.
My breath grew ragged.
My diaphragm contracted so violently that my lungs burned with pain. Sweat poured down my body, dripping from my temples, soaking my clothes. My knees trembled, threatening to give way.
And still, the dagger remained in my hand, a symbol of choice, of betrayal, of the impossible decision that loomed before me.
"And now…"
He was about to say it; chills ran down my spine. I knew what was coming—he was about to order me to strike Ryan.
My heartbeat quickened, pounding against my ribs like a drum of war. What if my heart fails to convince my mind? What if I lose all sense of myself and obey? What if I attack him… and he dies?
These questions circled endlessly through my fuzzy brain, each one sharper than the last, each one cutting deeper.
My vision swam, my breath faltered, and the dagger in my hand felt heavier with every passing second.
Ryan's muffled cries echoed in the silence, desperate, pleading, pulling at the last threads of my sanity. Kiril's voice pressed closer, wrapping around me like chains, whispering commands that threatened to drown out everything else.
The air trembled with Kiril's chant, each word pressing deeper into my skull—until a thunderous voice shattered the spell.
"STOP IT!"
The command roared through the chamber, shaking the walls. Kiril's father had arrived. His presence was like a storm breaking, and for the first time, Kiril faltered.
The chant died on his lips, cut short, leaving a hollow silence in its wake.
The sudden break was enough—I collapsed, the dagger slipping from my hand as my body crumpled to the ground. My chest heaved, lungs desperate for air, the misery finally loosening its grip.
Boss rushed forward, his hand outstretched, ready to pull me back to safety. But before his fingers could reach mine, Kiril struck, knocking his hand aside with a sharp, possessive motion.
His eyes burned as he bent down, determined to lift me himself, as though claiming me was his right.
Boss's face twisted with fury. "What is going on here, Kiril?" His voice was sharp, demanding, filled with authority.
But those words were tinder to Kiril's rage. His body stiffened, his gaze snapped to Boss, and in that instant, his eyes became something more than human—dark, endless, a gaze like death itself.
Boss froze. The fury drained from his face, replaced by terror. Under Kiril's stare, the lion became a mouse, trembling, powerless.
The room seemed to shrink around them, the silence heavier than before, as Kiril's fury filled the air like poison.
I forced myself upright, my legs trembling beneath me, and staggered toward Ryan—still bound to the circle, his body shaking, tears streaming down his face.
His eyes met mine, wide and desperate, pleading for release, pleading for hope.
(THIRD PERSON`S POV: -
Seeing Aiden move toward Ryan the moment he regained consciousness ignited Kiril's fury. His rage was so consuming that the veins in his neck bulged, his eyes turning bloodshot, glowing with a violent madness.
Suddenly, Kiril's hand shot out, gripping Boss's neck from behind. He yanked his head back, forcing Boss to meet his gaze.
Kiril leaned in close, so near their eyes locked—his stare sharp, merciless, unrelenting.
Boss's breath caught.
Terror flooded him as those bloodshot eyes bore into his soul. At the same time, pain surged through his body—Kiril's grip tightened around his throat, squeezing, making him vulnerable, helpless.
"Who allowed you to interfere in my business?" Kiril's voice was low, but it carried a terrifying weight. "Aren't you afraid of the outcomes of your deeds?"
Boss struggled to speak, his voice trembling. "You… you promised me you wouldn't harm any of my employees."
For a moment, Kiril's expression went blank, unreadable. Then, slowly, he scoffed.
"Promise, huh?" His tone dripped with contempt.
"Who do you think you are? A contractor? The only man foolish enough to believe he could bind me with words, with contracts, with rules. You think you took the contract to protect your employees—but all you've done is deliver them into my hands."
"You want to become hero right than be one", he took a halt, "When he arrives."
The words slithered into Boss's ears, chilling him to the bone. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his spine stiffening as fear consumed him.
"Huh? What`s with this reaction?", he scoffed. "Wait! don`t tell me you didn`t knew he was coming".
Boss didn`t give any reply.
"No reply, then I would take it as a yes," Kiril sneered, before breaking into mad laughter. His words echoed in the chamber, heavy with dread: he is coming…")