In the dead of night, the nightmarish torment finally came to a slow halt.
The room was in complete disarray—tangled sheets, scattered clothes—all bearing silent witness to the disgrace that had just unfolded.
Cynthia lay weakly on the bed, her eyes hollow and dim, as if all vitality had been drained from her, her soul seemingly ripped away.
Lucien reached out and methodically untied the restraints binding her. His movements were devoid of any tenderness, purely mechanical. Once free, he lifted Cynthia into his arms. Her body was limp, as though boneless.
Lucien picked up his phone and opened the video that captured their depravity. He leaned in close to Cynthia, his voice hoarse yet tinged with a twisted sensuality, and whispered in her ear, "Did you enjoy it?"
Cynthia's gaze was unfocused, as if she had lost all sense of reality. She showed no reaction to his words.
Seeing this, Lucien frowned. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at the screen. His tone was laced with mockery a
