Chapter 23 #5
His eyes opened slowly, heavy with guilt and pain. Tears welled in the corners, threatening to fall. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—” he started, his voice cracking.
But Sevyn silenced him with a kiss, slow and deep, her forgiveness poured into every press of her lips. “I forgive you,” she breathed against his mouth. “I know that wasn’t you. It was your demons. And I know how hard you’ve been fighting.”
Hassan pulled her into his lap, her thighs wrapped around him as she straddled his waist, their foreheads pressed together.
“I love you, Sevyn. I swear on my life, I’ll never hurt you again,” he said, his tone firm yet soft—only for her.
His hands slid to her waist, gripping her like he never wanted to let go .
“I believe you,” she whispered, tears building behind her lashes as their lips met again, tongues dancing slowly in sync. But then the air shifted—her breath hitched. Her grip tightened around him. “Save me,” she whimpered, voice cracking.
“I’m coming,” Hassan growled, the softness in his tone replaced by that cold, lethal edge he only wore when someone threatened what he loved.
Seconds later, she jolted awake, gasping as a wave of freezing water crashed over her.
She shot up, breath catching in her throat, eyes wide with confusion and pain. Her body screamed in protest—limbs sore, head pounding like it was splitting in two. The brief warmth of her dream disappeared, replaced by chilling reality.
She wasn’t in Hassan’s bed. She wasn’t wrapped in his arms. She was still chained to a cold mattress in a dark room, soaking wet, heart pounding, and very much alone.
She’d been in this hellhole for a week now.
A week of waking up sore, shackled to a bed like an animal, drugged into oblivion, and force-fed like a prisoner.
The only thing keeping her from slipping completely was Hassan.
The memory of his touch, the softness in his voice, the way his eyes saw her—truly saw her—was the only light in this darkness.
Dreaming about him, holding on to the echo of his presence, was the only thing keeping her sane.
But every day, Sevyn’s confusion deepened. Why her?
She wasn’t a threat. She wasn’t in the streets, didn’t live a dangerous life, and damn sure wasn’t the type to hurt a soul. Yet here she was, chained and bruised, dragged into someone’s revenge like a pawn on a board she never agreed to play on.
She wanted to believe Hassan had nothing to do with this, but it was hard not to see the timeline. The day Braxton showed up with those disturbing photos—pictures of her and Hassan, his parents, and that grotesque murder scene—was the same day she was run off the road. The same day she disappeared.
Whoever was behind this wasn’t some random psycho. From what little she could see from the cracks in the door and the faint details in the hallway, she was in a damn mansion. Expensive floors. Heavy doors. Power lived here. Money lived here. And that meant danger.
Her train of thought broke as the door creaked open again. In walked the woman—tall, masked, and already talking shit.
“Finally awake,” the woman said with a sarcastic lilt. “You moan and snore too damn much in your sleep. I don’t see what he sees in you.”
Sevyn glared at her. “Try sleeping while chained to a bed, drugged out your mind, and see how graceful you sound. ”
The woman didn’t respond, but her silence crackled with hate. Sevyn rotated her wrists against the cuffs, biting back the wince as pain shot through her joints. Still, her tone stayed sharp, unforgiving. “Who’s behind this? Because I know your birdbrain ass ain’t the mastermind.”
The woman stilled, her hand twitching like she was seconds from slapping Sevyn again. Sevyn braced herself—but a deep voice sliced through the room like a blade.
“Hit her, and I’ll kill you.” The woman froze.
Sevyn’s eyes whipped toward the door, heart thundering in her chest. She couldn’t see through the shadows, but the energy shifted.
Whoever just walked in—his presence suffocated the air, thick with power and cruelty.
Her skin crawled. And for the first time since she’d been taken, Sevyn felt real fear.
Not from the chains. Not from the woman with the mask.
But from the man in the dark… whose voice made her blood run cold.
The man stepped into the light, and for a moment Sevyn thought the drugs were playing with her head. Her body stiffened. Her breath caught. But no—there was no mistaking that smirk. That voice. That sick, twisted grin.
“Braxton?” she rasped, her throat dry, heart jackhammering in her chest.
“Hey, my baby,” he said with a grin that could slice skin. He didn’t wear a mask like the others. He wanted her to know it was him. That he was the devil behind all of this.
“Give us privacy,” he said without even looking at the masked woman. She picked up the tray and syringe but hesitated at the door. “Leave it,” he said calmly, but the threat in his voice was clear. “I want the honors of feeding my wife.” Sevyn’s stomach twisted.
“Where the fuck am I?” she snapped, locking eyes with him. Despite the haze clouding her head, she refused to shrink beneath him.
“Paradise. Or we will be, soon. Just give me a few days,” he said, easing closer like he hadn’t just had her chained to a bed. She tried to shift away, but the cold metal around her wrists didn’t budge.
“Don’t be scared of me. I’m not the monster. I’m not that nigga you’ve been running around with, playing house, pretending you in love with,” he sneered.
“It’s not pretending,” she snapped. “I am in love. And he loves me.”
Braxton’s jaw ticked. Without warning, he backhanded her across the face.
Her head snapped to the side, but she didn’t cry out.
She turned back slow, the sting dancing on her skin, her eyes blazing.
“That bitch in the mask hit harder than you,” Sevyn muttered, blood pooling in her mouth, but she spit it to the side like venom.
His jaw clenched tighter. “You won’t be talking to me like that for long.”
“You’re right,” she said through gritted teeth. “Because my nigga is coming for me. And you? You gone be six feet under before he even asks questions.”
Braxton laughed, but the cold glint in his eyes said he heard her. “You think that nigga cares enough to come for you? You think he even know where you at? He’s out there spiraling, and you in here… with me.”
He leaned in close, so close she could smell the cologne she used to love but now made her stomach churn.
“You need to forget about him, Sevyn. That little fantasy you built with him? That’s over. You were mine before him, and you gon’ be mine again.”
He reached for her legs, spreading them with a roughness that made her body jerk, but she was too weak to fight him off. Her muscles screamed, but the drugs in her system made them useless.
“Don’t touch me,” she croaked, panic rising in her chest.
Braxton stopped, just long enough to tilt his head and study her face. “I’m not gon’ hurt you, baby. Not like that. I’m not a monster. I just missed you. Missed the way you taste, the way you smell… that sweet pussy you kept from me all these months.”
His hand moved to her cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking down the wet trail her tears left behind. She flinched hard, turning her head away.
“That scent… it’s still stuck in my fuckin’ head,” he whispered, voice thick with obsession. “You don’t even realize what you do to a man. I been chasing the memory of you like a fiend since the day you walked away.”
He leaned in toward her pussy, breathing her in like it was the only air left in the room, his face close enough to feel the heat of his breath through the fabric.
Sevyn’s body went rigid, her mind racing, heart threatening to crack her ribs.
“You still smell like mine,” he whispered against her skin, voice twisted and tender in a way that made her want to scream. “And I won’t stop until you remember who you belong to.”
She kept fighting, kicking, screaming—whatever her body could muster—but it was useless.
Braxton’s head was buried between her thighs like he was starving, like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
Her stomach turned with every second his nose stayed there.
The taste of bile clawed its way up her throat, and all she could do was cry. Cry and pray.
Her mind ran straight to Hassan. Her light. Her anchor. Her only fucking hope.
She prayed like he could hear her, like he was out there tearing the world apart just to get to her. Because here she was—drugged, chained, humiliated—while the man she once trusted violated every inch of her dignity.
“Braxton... please stop,” she cried, voice barely above a whisper.
He finally lifted his head, eyes glassy like he was high off her, a sick smile stretched across his face like he just won the lottery. Sevyn turned her head toward the ceiling, the tears rolling faster, her chest heaving.
“Hassan,” she whispered like a prayer, like a desperate call for salvation. “Please... find me.”
The moment his name left her lips, everything shifted.
Braxton’s smile vanished. His jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. Without a word, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a knife, and before she could even scream, he dragged the blade across her stomach.
Sevyn’s scream ripped through the room like a siren. The pain was white hot. Her skin tore open as her blood soaked the sheets beneath her.
“Don’t you ever say that nigga’s name like he your savior in my fucking face!” Braxton snarled, his voice unrecognizable—drenched in venom and jealousy and something unholy.
Her cries turned guttural, raw, and uncontrollable. Blood spilled from her body, but it wasn’t just the pain that broke her—it was the realization. Braxton wasn’t just obsessed. He was fucking gone. Unhinged. Possessed by some twisted idea of love.
Compared to the monster in front of her, Hassan was a fucking saint.
Braxton stood like nothing happened, wiping the blade on his pants, then picked up the sandwich from the tray like they were having a fucking picnic. “Now, you need to eat,” he said coldly.
Sevyn was too tired, too broken, too fucking hurt to resist. Her body trembled, blood seeping from the gash on her abdomen, but she chewed slowly, swallowing bits of the sandwich just to keep him calm. He handed her a cup of water and she sipped enough to wet her throat, her eyes never leaving his.
When she finished, he didn’t speak. He just picked up the syringe, tapped it like it was some casual routine, then stabbed it into her thigh .
Sevyn gasped, her limbs twitching as the drug hit her bloodstream. Her vision blurred, her breathing slowed, and the room tilted sideways. Her voice cracked, one last whisper slipping past her lips.
“Hassan…”
And then—blackness.