Chapter 45 Vivian #2
Before I could think, before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth like a torrent. “How dare you question him?”
The room went deathly silent.
I stepped forward. “Lord Maren has done more for this faction than any of you could ever comprehend. You don’t get to stand here and pass judgment on him like some self-righteous fool.”
The two elders looked at me in stunned silence.
Shock coursed through me. What had I just done?
The room felt like it was spinning. My mind raced to make sense of my own actions, to rationalize the venom in my voice, but all I felt was a sickening mix of shame and pride.
I risked a glance at Izo.
He was watching me with a calm, measured expression, approval flaring in his eyes. It made my chest swell with a warmth I didn’t want to acknowledge, a twisted sense of satisfaction that only deepened the pit forming in my stomach.
The elder who had spoken first stepped back, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between Izo and me. “You’ve made your point,” he muttered, his tone bitter.
Izo took a slow, deliberate step forward. “You’ll remember your place,” he said, his voice soft but laced with menace. “And you’ll remember who commands here.”
The elders exchanged a tense look before nodding stiffly and retreating from the room.
I stood frozen, my hands trembling at my sides. The silence stretched, oppressive and heavy, until I finally found the courage to speak.
“I don’t know why I said that,” I whispered.
“You don’t need to justify yourself, Vivian,” Izo said, his tone warm and reassuring. “You defended me because you understand me. Because you see the truth.”
I wanted to believe him, to let his words erase the doubt gnawing at me. But the truth lingered, a quiet whisper I couldn’t silence.
This isn’t right. Fight it, that small voice taunted.
The thought sent a sharp pain searing through my chest. I staggered slightly, clutching at my ribs as the pain intensified.
“Vivian?” Izo’s voice was calm but tinged with curiosity.
“I’m fine,” I gasped, though the words were far from true.
The pain grew worse, spreading through my body like fire. My knees buckled, and I barely made it to the corner of the room before the nausea overwhelmed me. I gagged, the acidic taste of bile rising in my throat before I vomited onto the polished floor.
Tears stung my eyes as I clutched at my stomach, the pain ebbing slightly but leaving me shaken and weak.
Izo didn’t rush to my side. Instead, he remained where he was, watching me with an almost clinical detachment.
“Clean that up,” he said sharply to one of the guards stationed outside the door.
The guard moved quickly, stepping into the room with a cloth and bucket, his face impassive as he began scrubbing the floor.
I forced myself to sit up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The humiliation burned almost as much as the pain, but I swallowed it down, refusing to let it show.
Izo crouched in front of me, his silver eyes boring into mine. “You’re pushing too hard,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “You’re fighting something you shouldn’t. That’s why the pain keeps happening.”
His words sent another wave of nausea rolling through me, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I don’t understand,” I lied.
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “You will,” he said softly. “With time.”
The guard finished cleaning the floor and retreated silently, leaving the two of us alone again.
Izo stood and offered me his hand. “Go clean yourself up,” he said gently. “We’ll go down to dinner after.”
I nodded numbly, letting him pull me to my feet. My legs were shaky, but I managed to steady myself as I moved toward the bathroom.
As I closed the door behind me, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes wide and glassy.
I leaned over the sink, gripping the edges tightly as I stared at my reflection.
This isn’t me.
The thought came again, unbidden and unrelenting. I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push it away, but it lingered like a shadow in the back of my mind.
For a moment, I let myself think about Raffaele. About the cabin, and how he’d looked at me, how he’d made me feel.
The pain came back instantly, sharp and unforgiving. I gasped, clutching at the sink as the compulsion from Izo reasserted itself, smothering every other thought.
The whispers in my mind, the voice that wasn’t my own but somehow felt too familiar, urged me to stop resisting.
No.
I pressed my hands against the cool sink and tried to push the voice away. I had to think. My memory was fragmented, like shards of a broken mirror, but the faintest glimmer of knowledge surfaced.
How could I sever my tie to Izo?
My hand moved instinctively to the back of my pants, pulling out the steak knife I’d hidden earlier. The blade gleamed in the dim light, its edge sharp and unforgiving.
I had to work quickly.
Rolling up my sleeve, I pressed the knife to my wrist. My heart pounded as I traced the invisible rune Izo had traced in the sand. If I could cut it out, maybe I could weaken the compulsion and help Raffaele.
The moment the blade broke my skin, the compulsion roared to life.
Pain exploded through me, radiating from my hand and spreading like wildfire across my entire body. I cried out, the sound torn from my throat as I collapsed to my knees. The knife clattered to the floor as searing agony consumed me.
Izo’s voice in my mind grew louder, insidious and cruel. Why are you fighting, Vivian? Don’t you see how much easier it is to give in?
I clutched my head, rocking back and forth as the pain intensified. “No,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “I won’t. You can’t make me.”
Oh, but I can.
The bathroom spun around me, the whispers sinking deeper into my mind. The compulsion tightened its grip, smothering every thought, every shred of resistance.
“Vivian.”
I gasped, my body trembling as the lock on the bathroom door clicked open.
Izo stood in the doorway, his silver eyes alight with a mix of disappointment and triumph. He stepped inside, his presence immediately overwhelming, and the compulsion surged again, flooding me with warmth and submission that I didn’t want to feel.
“You’ve been very naughty,” he said softly, his tone almost playful. “What were you thinking, my dear?”
I couldn’t answer. My throat was too tight, tears streaming down my face as I curled into myself.
He crouched down beside me and lifted my chin. “Look at me,” he commanded, his voice smooth and irresistible.
I obeyed, my body moving against my will. His touch was deceptively gentle, his fingers brushing away my tears as if he cared.
“You shouldn’t fight me, Vivian. It only makes things worse for you.”
I shook my head weakly. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
He gave me a pitying smile. “Oh, but you can. And you will.” He pulled me into his arms, holding me close.
The song began softly, the haunting melody sinking into my thoughts like a drug. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. The sound vibrated through me, sending a sharp, stabbing pain down my spine and through every nerve in my body.
I screamed, clawing at his arms as the agony overwhelmed me.
“Shh,” he murmured, his tone almost tender. “This is for your own good.”
The song grew louder, the melody twisting, turning darker. It filled my head, drowning out every thought, every memory. The compulsion surged, forcing submission and loyalty to the forefront of my mind.
My limbs grew heavy, my struggles weakening as the pain became too much. It traveled from my ears down the length of my body until I sagged against him.
“Good girl,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.
He carried me to a cot that had been set up at the foot of his bed. “You won’t be joining me for dinner tonight.”
He turned and left me to cry myself to sleep.