Chapter 32
CEZAR
I woke up after what had to be a twelve-hour coma. I hadn’t slept that long in… ever. My body finally relaxed enough to knock out, and apparently, it seized the opportunity. Felt good, even if every muscle protested the second I moved.
The doctor warned me the soreness would kick in hard, and he wasn’t lying. I was trying to wean off the heavy pain meds, but I’d probably have to take a couple for the first week, especially with physical therapy looming over my head like a fucking guillotine.
It was already close to eleven, and my stomach was growling. When I moved toward the kitchen, I noticed how quiet the house felt. No sign of Vali either.
“Cezar.” Dorin’s voice came from behind me as he hurried over.
I stopped and turned to face him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Like shit. So… pretty normal,” I said, giving him a weak laugh.
He exhaled through his nose like he wanted to roll his eyes but held back. “Right. Well, there’s food in the fridge. Eat something—I know you’re starving. I’ll go tell Lina you’re up.”
“Where is she anyway?”
“In the basement,” he replied before walking away.
The basement? Why the hell was she down there?
From what I’d seen while exploring, there wasn’t much besides the weapons room and some locked rooms she hadn’t let me into yet.
Probably handling something she didn’t want me involved in—which meant it was definitely something I’d want to be involved in.
I was going to stuff my face first, then snoop. I found something Dorin had cooked; I didn’t even know what it was, but it smelled really fucking good. That was when Vali came out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me.
“Hey… I can heat that up for you, Cezar.” She took the food and gestured for me to sit.
She didn’t ask how I was doing; she knew, even if she was too damn sweet for this world. For that moment, Vali just took care of me, reminding me she was there if I needed her.
Must be nice having a family that actually cared.
I ate until the plate was empty, tossed the dishes in the dishwasher, and grabbed a bottle of water.
A few minutes later, one of Lina’s men appeared at the top of the stairs. “Cezar. She wants you downstairs.”
Suspicious as fuck. Only I would willingly walk my ass into a basement where torture was definitely on the menu. If it was her doing the torturing, then I knew it would be fun.
I wasn’t entirely wrong about what was waiting for me downstairs—just not in the way I expected. The guy leading me brought me to an observation room. Through the one-way glass, I saw Lina standing in the adjacent room with some bastard strapped to a chair.
He looked fucked-up, but seeing her hands stained with blood did something to me. I didn’t hate every aspect of the life that was chosen for me, and neither did Lina.
I had no clue who the guy was or why I was being taken down here to spectate. The man who escorted me must’ve alerted her, because she wiped her hands and stepped into the observation room… holding a bowl of popcorn.
Popcorn.
“Hey there, sexy,” I greeted automatically, laughing because what the fuck else do you say when your girl walks in with popcorn and blood up to her elbows?
She set the bowl beside the viewing chair—smearing bloody handprints across the surface, creating modern art.
“You like this, huh?” she asked, amused, hips swaying in that casual way that made it impossible not to stare.
“I like anything that involves you,” I replied with a grin.
Her smile deepened. “Cezar, do you know who this person is?” She tilted her head toward the barely-human shape in the chair.
I shook my head. Hard to recognize a face when it was covered in blood.
“He shot you. The one who almost killed you. The one who almost took you—”
Lina turned toward the glass, admiring her handiwork.
Almost took me… from her?
“Ah. Yeah. I can see it now under all the gore,” I mused, stepping closer and resting my good hand on her shoulder.
She leaned into the touch instantly, her body fitting against mine like she’d been waiting for it. I lowered my head, whispering against her ear, “Are you going to kill him for me?”
Her muscles tensed, just for a second, before she nodded. A razor-sharp sparkle lit up her emerald eyes. She turned to face me.
“Do you want to help, or would you rather watch?”
“I’ll admire from afar.” I traced a finger across her lips. “Show me what you can do, Petal.” Damn, I needed to control myself, or I’d end up with a boner.
Lina left the room and reappeared in front of the man who’d almost killed me. Honestly? Didn’t give a fuck about him. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried. Wouldn’t be the last. Except this time had been close, besides my father.
She was doing all this for me. All I wanted to do now was watch her cruelty.
This felt right.
She ripped the tape off the guy’s mouth. Shockingly, he didn’t start screaming. Idiot must’ve thought he had a bargaining chip hidden somewhere, because he went straight into smart-ass mode.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, blood dripping from his mouth.
Lina didn’t even acknowledge him. She focused on her blade instead, running the steel along a whetstone with calm, effortless strokes.
That was my dagger. My beautiful thief. My little menace. It was evident she had no interest in extracting information from him. This was all purely for the kill.
He kept going, “What the fuck do you want from me, you stupid fucking bitch?!”
Without looking up, Lina snapped back, “What makes you think I want anything you have?” Her voice was almost bored.
“Just fucking tell me what you want,” he blurted.
“Will you give it to me if I tell you?” She drew closer with the blade.
“Seriously—just… what do you want?” The restraints clanked as he pulled against them.
Lina stopped right in front of him and leaned in close. Her smile stretched into something sinister. “What if I said I wanted your life?” The guy turned pale and thrashed harder, metal screeching under his frantic movements.
For the next hour, she let loose every ounce of brutality. I had a front-row seat—and complimentary popcorn—to the most beautiful torture I’d ever witnessed. Watching her work felt like watching art being created. Violent, intimate, deliberate art. She had a way with how she hurt people.
I knew her touch well—what it felt like, what it could do—and it still stunned me how gentle she could be with me, considering the kind of destruction she created with those same hands.
She’d put in earbuds, blocking out his screams entirely. I wondered why she didn’t just tape his mouth shut again. Maybe she wanted him to hear the sound of his own voice break. Maybe she liked knowing he could beg all he wanted, and it still wouldn’t change anything.
Every so often, she’d speak to him, regardless of whether he answered or choked.
“These are the hands that tried to take,” she told him as she poured acid across his skin, watching it bubble and melt. “It’s my turn now.”
Holy fuck, I was in love.
Lina turned her head toward the door—one of her men must’ve signaled something. She began gathering her tools.
Well… except for my blade. The one with the rose carved into the handle. She kept that out like a trophy.
After removing her earbuds and tucking them away, she clicked her tongue. “Unfortunately, I’ve got somewhere to be. So, this ends here. I don’t have time to play any longer.”
The man rocked so hard the bolts rattled. His begging turned frantic, grotesque. Lina stepped behind him, knife in hand, watching him unravel like she was studying a painting.
She tilted her head—that slow, eerie tilt she did when she was two seconds from carnage.
Mesmerized, I stood and flipped off the one-way mirror filter so she could see me. Fuck the guy. She was the only thing in the room that mattered.
With a steady arm and exquisite precision, Lina dragged the blade across his throat. Slow and purposeful. Making sure he felt every microscopic inch of steel slicing through his life.
Then she glanced in my direction, lips forming a soft, teasing kiss in the air. A silent promise of more to come.
She was cruel and twisted, and I fucking loved it.
She did all of this for me. She put on a fucking show just so I could enjoy myself. The door swung open, and she stepped through in all her bloody glory, my knife still clutched in her hand.
I barely remembered crossing the room—my body just moved. I hauled her against me, crushing my mouth to hers. She tasted like goddamn perfection. I was fucking hungry for her, consumed by desire.
“Not that I didn’t enjoy the entire performance,” I breathed against her lips, “but you rushed the ending. Why?”
She smirked and nudged me back. “You have physical therapy. We need to go. Can’t be late.”
Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me.
She left me standing there—rock hard, half feral, and emotionally unstable—in the blood-soaked torture room because of a PT appointment. And for some reason, I found that ridiculously attractive.
With my shoulders sagging, I followed her upstairs. My shirt was bloodstained, so I changed into a clean one while she washed up. Dorin already had the car running.
Fuck my life. Let the real torture begin.