CHAPTER 11
The metallic taste of sweat mixed with the sharp smell of cleaning liquid in the air.
Kawin quickly moved under Thirawat’s fast punch, then twisted to deliver a strong blow to his best friend’s body, forcing the air out of Thirawat’s lungs.
Thirawat grunted, stumbling back before recovering with a fierce grin.
“Getting sloppy, Wat,” Kawin gasped, wiping a trickle of sweat from his brow.
His own muscles burned, a constant, dull ache that mirrored the fire in his stomach.
They were in the safehouse’s makeshift training room, the bare walls echoing with the thud of fists on padded targets and the rhythmic slap of their boots on the mat.
Every punch, every block, was fueled by a single, desperate image: Noi’s terrified face at the masquerade.
“You’re distracted, Siriprasert,” Thirawat countered, lunging forward with new energy. “Still seeing ghosts?”
Kawin didn’t answer, his focus absolute as he blocked a kick, the impact hurting his arm. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not now. Not when Noi was waiting.
Later, in the cool, blue glow of the operations room, Tawan Prapanakul’s voice was a steady, calm drone against the frantic beat of Kawin’s heart. Thermal blueprints of the Thanawanich estate spread across the main screen, a digital skeleton of secrets.
“Security grid is still military-grade, very strong,” Tawan stated, his fingers dancing over the keyboard.
“But my malware will blind their cameras for five minutes. That’s your window, Kawin.
Precise. Critical. If you’re not out with Noi by then, you’ll be walking into a live feed, and they’ll see you. "
“Five minutes,” Kawin repeated, the words like a ticking bomb.
“Exactly.” Tawan’s eyes, made larger by his glasses, met Kawin’s.
“You and Thirawat go in through the north wall. The power will briefly go out at the same time the cameras are blinded. We’ve planned for guard changes, but remember, one mistake, and you’re dead before you even make it to the main house. ”
A cold dread coiled in Kawin’s stomach. He remembered Noi’s soft laughter, his childish joy over a new comic book, his innocent, wide eyes.
Then the memory changed: Noi in velvet, clutched by Inthorn, his eyes wide with a terror that spoke of unspeakable things.
A pang of doubt, a persistent, nagging worm, dug into Kawin’s mind.
Could that innocent boy truly have survived in such a dangerous place, full of evil people?
Or had something inside him been broken beyond repair?
Thirawat, sensing Kawin’s internal struggle, clapped him roughly on the shoulder. “He’s still in there, Kawin. We’re going to get him out.” His voice was firm, an anchor in the swirling current of Kawin’s fear. “No matter what he’s been through, he’s still your brother.”
Kawin swallowed hard, a fierce determination hardening his jaw. “We will be out,” he vowed, his voice strained but strong. “With Noi.”
They bent over the blueprints again, a grim huddle of determination, carefully examining every digital line, every possible danger.
Hidden sensors, emergency exits, the shortest path to the master suites.
And beneath it all, a silent thought pounded in Kawin’s skull: My baby brother… I’m coming for you.
_____
Noi was a small, trembling huddle beneath the vast silk blanket, Bunbun pressed so tightly against his chest that the plushie’s ears were crinkled.
The air in the opulent bedroom felt thick, suffocating.
He hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, the very thought of food turning his stomach.
Each breath was a shallow gasp, his body still shaking from the horror of the Bone Garden and the chilling words on the plaque: Noi Thanawanich – Pending.
Inthorn was gone. The maids had said he was "out on business," and for the first few hours, the silence had been a fragile relief.
But then it began to change, twisting into a new kind of terror.
The mansion, with its silent, watching walls, felt less like a cage and more like a tomb.
He was alone with the chilling memories, with the clear, undeniable proof of what Inthorn truly was.
A part of him, a small, twisted part, still ached for Inthorn’s presence.
The monster who brought him ice cream, who whispered possessive comfort, who had held him through the night.
The thought was sickening, a betrayal of everything he knew was right.
But the memory of Inthorn’s arms, heavy and warm around him, was a strange comfort, a desperate relief against the unimaginable terror.
Why do I feel this? he thought, tears stinging his eyes. Why do I want him back, even a little?
He needed a distraction. Anything to escape the horrifying images burned into his mind.
He crawled out from under the blanket, his legs aching, and began to walk around the room.
His fingers traced the fancy patterns on the walls, the cool, smooth wood of the wardrobe.
He ran his hand along the base of his heavy, antique dresser, and felt something—a slight give, a barely noticeable creak.
He pushed harder. A section of the wall paneling, cleverly disguised, slid inward a tiny bit, revealing a narrow, dust-filled space.
It wasn’t an escape route from the mansion, not yet.
But it was something. A hidden space. A secret.
A breath of air in his suffocating world.
A tiny spark of courage ignited within him.
He wasn't entirely helpless. He could find things. He could hide. He could… survive.
The thought of the "pending" plaque, a constant, icy weight in his chest, suddenly changed from pure terror into a burning determination. He would not be a name on a plaque. He would not be pending. He would escape.
_____
Thanawanich Forest Safehouse...
Pramote Thanawanich’s eyes, though tired, gleamed with cold calculation as he looked at his family gathered around the rough wooden table. The air was thick with the scent of woodsmoke and old grudges.
“Inthorn is making his moves,” Pramote rumbled, swirling the deep red wine in his goblet.
“He’s consolidating power, tying up loose ends.
The city’s under his thumb now.”
Wimondevi, elegant even in the rustic setting, a chillingly calm presence, adjusted her pearl necklace.
“He’s growing too bold. His mother’s anniversary is approaching.
A fitting time to remind him of his place. ”
Sarut, a lazy smile on his lips, kicked his bare feet onto the table. “And then we can finally have his little toy. The rabbit boy.” He purred, running a hand down Thanit’s thigh. “He’ll scream deliciously, darling. Like vanilla pudding.”
Thanit chuckled, his eyes dark with shared evil. “I missed our bite of Inthorn’s mother. This one will be a sweet compensation.”
Wimondevi’s gaze flickered to them, a hint of disdain in her cold eyes.
“Focus. Inthorn needs to be isolated. We have someone coming, a specialist. They will sow discord, disrupt his networks. Prepare the grounds. We move on the anniversary.” Her voice was like ice, chilling them all to silence. This wasn't a game to her.
_____
The soft click of the door. Noi, still huddled under his bed, clutching Bunbun, froze.
The rhythmic, heavy sound of boots on the polished floor.
Inthorn was back.
He squeezed his eyes shut, a desperate plea to become invisible.
But the footsteps stopped beside the bed.
A low, pleased hum, then Inthorn’s voice, a silky whisper that tightened every muscle in Noi’s body.
“My Noi, you’re hiding.”
Noi whimpered, burying his face deeper into Bunbun’s fur. He could feel Inthorn’s presence, overwhelming and terrifying, even through the bedframe.
Then, a small, smooth object rolled across the floor and nudged his hand.
Noi flinched, opening one eye, then the other.
Resting on the carpet, glinting wetly in the dim light, was a small, pristine glass jar.
And inside it, floating in clear liquid, were two perfectly preserved, glistening eyeballs.
They stared blankly back at him, devoid of life, looking empty.
Noi screamed.
A raw, piercing sound ripped from his throat, a sound born of pure, unadulterated terror. He scrambled deeper under the bed, pressing himself against the cold wall, rocking back and forth, clutching Bunbun like a shield against the unspeakable horror. Bile rose in his throat, hot and metallic.
Above him, Inthorn’s low, throaty chuckle filled the room, a sound of chilling amusement.
“You like my gift, little rabbit? A warning to those who dare look at what’s mine.
” His voice was soft, affectionate, utterly detached from the horror he had just inflicted.
“He won’t bother you again, my love. You are safe now. Always safe. With me.”
Inthorn’s laughter echoed, a mad, possessive sound, as Noi continued to shake, trapped beneath the bed, the image of the preserved eyes seared into his terrified mind.