Chapter 12
Kai
I had been awake for God knows how long—hours, maybe days.
Time had stopped mattering the moment they chained me to the bed.
The space was dark, padded, and silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation above.
And the fucked-up thing was… this was almost pleasant compared to the last time I was taken.
Back then, it was a filthy little hut. Cracked walls, rotting wood, and a stench that made your eyes water.
Even so, we didn’t have the strength to break the door down.
Funny, isn’t it?
How memory works.
For years, I couldn’t remember any of it—like the whole nightmare had been erased, wiped clean.
But then I dreamed. And when I woke up, the floodgates opened. Everything came rushing back.
Xiao Wu and I were kept together at first. A single day, maybe a bit more. A room with no windows, no water—just a dented bucket in the corner that served as our toilet.
We tried to hold it in for as long as we could, turning it into a game of who could last longer.
If I remember right, I won the pee challenge but lost the poo one. Or maybe it was the other way round.
After hours of waiting, nobody came.
We tried everything—banging on the door with our fists, kicking with bare feet, throwing our bodies against it until our shoulders bruised.
Nothing happened.
Eventually, we gave up. Sat side by side on the cold concrete, talking about stupid things, dreaming about food, about freedom.
Every now and then, Xiao Wu cracked a joke so ridiculous that we both forgot, for a second, that we were prisoners.
He kept me sane.
He promised me that someone would come for us.
That whoever took us would pay, personally—by his father, by his powerful family.
Maybe it was childish. Maybe I was naive.
But I believed him.
That night, we went without food or water.
At one point, my stomach growled so loudly that it drowned out our whispers. We decided to stay quiet after that—to save our strength for when the chance came to escape.
If hunger didn’t kill us, exhaustion might.
Still, we became brothers that night.
Not by blood, but by choice.
Xiao Wu told me about his family—how they weren’t related by blood, but bound by it.
He spoke about oaths, about loyalty that could never be broken.
How his father and brothers would never abandon one of their own.
He said that to join their family, you had to prove yourself through trials—real ones, the life-and-death kind.
And when you were finally deemed worthy, you’d take the brotherhood oath under Second Brother Guan—a symbol of loyalty, honor, and brotherhood.
Then you’d drink each other’s blood.
That part freaked me out.
I imagined vampires, fangs, blood dripping from necks.
Xiao Wu had laughed.
That same bright, reckless laugh that Dannie has now.
He explained that everyone pricked their fingers, let a few drops of blood fall into a bowl of clean water, stirred it, stirred it and then each took a sip.
No fangs. No necks. Just brotherhood.
We didn’t have water, so we didn’t have blood-water either.
But Xiao Wu said it didn’t matter.
We’d been through hell together—starved, scared, and uncertain if we’d live to see another sunrise.
That was enough to count.
We knelt before the door, bowed our heads, and swore our oath.
To protect each other.
To find each other if we were ever torn apart.
To never forget.
The next morning, someone came.
They took Xiao Wu away.
And that was the last time I saw him—as a child.
This white, sterile, padded chamber was a five-star hostage facility in comparison.
No creepy crawlies. No roaches. No centuries-old cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.
There was even a toilet.
Not a cracked plastic bucket with no lid—an actual toilet. With water. And a flush.
Fuck!
Had I ever used it?
How the hell did I manage to use the bathroom while tied up?
I rubbed the sheets beneath me—smooth, dry.
That was… weirdly reassuring.
Was I wearing a diaper?
My body felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to me.
Numb. Detached.
I couldn’t feel my skin, couldn’t tell if I was clothed, couldn’t even tell where the line between my body and the bed began.
I reached down as far as the chain allowed, fumbling to check. No sign of padding. No adhesive strips.
A shaky breath escaped me. Relief.
Even in captivity, even like this, I couldn’t let go of my stupid male pride. One day, maybe, I’d be old or half-dead and have to wear one—but at least that wasn’t today.
Then it hit me.
A flash.
Hands. Someone’s hands changing me. Cleaning me up.
My stomach turned.
This wasn’t the first time I’d woken up in this place.
There had been others—moments lost between sedation and consciousness.
Each time, too brief to remember properly.
I’d been drugged. That much was clear.
There were no monitors, no IV lines, no beeping. Machines to suggest I was injured or critically ill.
Which meant this wasn’t treatment.
This was containment.
What happened after it went dark?
Did the car crash?
If it did, who brought me here?
Was this her doing—or my father’s?
Even though Dad and I were barely on speaking terms, my money was on my mother.
The air-conditioning hummed softly, steady and mechanical.
No footsteps outside, no voices.
The evil woman wouldn’t leave me unsupervised. Not a chance.
I swallowed hard. A lump of guilt—or disgust—lodged in my throat.
There was no one left I could trust.
No one.
A face flickered in my mind, uninvited but familiar.
June.
Her name alone softened something sharp inside me.
The only woman I’d ever trusted.
The only person who made me feel safe—like I could stop fighting the world for five damn minutes.
With her, even silence felt like peace.
Just breathing the same air as her was enough.
But I’d chosen my mother.
Again.
I’d spent my whole life believing her, obeying her, convincing myself that her manipulations were “for my own good.”
And now…
Now I’d lost the woman I loved.
And I’d failed Lincoln too.
I promised to protect his sister.
Instead, I’d hurt her.
I’d become the very thing I swore I wouldn’t.
The faint mechanical whirl of the door lock snapped me out of my thoughts.
The smart lock.
Shit.
I was supposed to reset the password—to make sure only the nurse had access when needed.
But I’d gotten lazy and had given her the master pin.
Trusted her.
Big fucking mistake.
The door clicked. Hinges groaned.
Light flooded the room, stabbing my eyes like needles.
“Mr. Li is awake,” someone announced from the doorway.
Angela. The nurse.
The one I’d put in charge of this room.
Three silhouettes stood in the doorway. My eyes fought the light, trying to adjust.
“What are you still standing there for?”
Her words sliced through the air—sharp, imperious, grating.
“Check if everything’s all right.”
The mere sound of her made my temples throb.
She had a talent for barking orders, especially at staff.
It was her hobby, her sport—her way of proving she was still in control.
It used to bother me when I was younger.
Everyone deserved respect.
That was something I learned from Dad.
Not that she’d ever admit it.
Eventually, I’d learned to shut my mouth and tune out of her cruelty.
“Hey, mother…”
The words came out rough, strained, like sandpaper in my throat—worse than any morning-after voice I’d ever had.
Nurse Angela didn’t look at me while she checked my body from top to bottom, adjusting the chain, checking my pulse, and pressing her cold fingers along my arms and legs. Her touch was clinical, detached, but her silence—her refusal to meet my eyes—was loud enough to scream.
Was she afraid of me?
Or guilty?
Was she the one who’d helped my mother escape this room—the room I’d designed specifically to contain her? Was she as deranged as my mother? Did Angela know what I would do to her once I got free?
I warned her. I told her exactly what would happen if she betrayed me.
I should’ve listened to my instincts.
Her resume never quite checked out. The hospital references were fake, the phone numbers disconnected. My sources told me she’d been fired for wrong conduct, they said. Nothing specific. Just the kind of vague dismissal that hides something rotten underneath.
But that’s exactly why I hired her.
Someone desperate enough to obey without question. Someone who wouldn’t flinch when I said the words keep my mother sedated.
Someone who’d do anything I asked.
Apparently, I was wrong.
Standing right beside her now was Lucy—my bride-to-be. Handpicked by the woman who raised me. Her perfect porcelain puppet, silent and lovely, just like she’d always wanted me to have.
“Kai, stop fighting Nurse Angela. You need your rest.” The witch’s tone was calm, measured—the kind of careful gentleness she used when she was about to twist the knife.
“Let me out,” I said, my throat dry. “I can go to the toilet on my own.”
“No, Kai. You’re not strong enough yet.”
Nurse Angela slid a bedpan from beneath the bed, metal scraping faintly against the floor. She reached for my waistband, and the moment her fingers brushed the fabric, something inside me snapped.
Deja vu hit hard—fragmented flashes of this same motion, this same humiliation. How many times had she done this while I was unconscious?
“Fuck off!” I spat, the word cutting sharp and wet against the sterile air. My saliva hit her cheek.
“Oh, sweetheart,” the bitch’s tone turned soft, almost amused. Her expression didn’t change—not even a flicker of surprise. “Would you calm down?”
Her indifference made my skin crawl.
“What is happening to me?” I demanded.
“You?” Her lips tightened into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Nothing, darling. I’m keeping you safe. Just like you’ve been looking after me.”
Her words slithered through my head like poison.
“What happened to Dad?”
“Him?” She gave a slight tilt, watching me through narrowed eyes. “Nothing right now… but not for long.”
I yanked at the restraints, the leather biting into my wrists. I wanted to grab her, shake her, force the truth out of her smug little smile. But the straps held. My muscles trembled with effort, my strength crawling back too slowly.