Chapter 4

The Price of Silence

Sameera's POV

I scrambled back as the men stepped closer, their shadows swallowing the little light in the room. My breath came in short, shaky gasps. My mind screamed at me to run, but my body wouldn’t move.

One of them crouched in front of me, his dark eyes cold, calculating.

"You don’t speak unless spoken to," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "You don’t cry. You don’t run. You don’t fight. Understand?"

I swallowed hard, my throat burning. My lips trembled, but I pressed them shut.

"Answer him, little doll," Rueben’s voice cut through the thick air, smooth yet terrifying. He stood at the door, watching, amused.

I clenched my fists. "Where is my dad?" My voice was barely above a whisper, but I forced the words out. "Why is my mom—"

A rough hand grabbed my arm, yanking me up so fast my head spun.

"Wrong question," the man holding me muttered.

Rueben chuckled, stepping forward. He tilted his head, studying me like I was some broken toy he was deciding whether to fix or toss away.

"Let’s see how well you listen, little doll." He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "Because the next time you ask the wrong question... you'll wish you hadn’t."

My stomach twisted.

I turned my head toward the doorway, half-expecting my mother to walk in. To stop this.

But she never came.

And that’s when I realized—

She wasn’t going to.

The men dragged me forward, out of the room. My heart pounded as Rueben led the way, his hands tucked in his pockets like this was just another normal night.

"Welcome to your new life, Sameera," he said without looking back.

I wasn’t sure where they were taking me.

But I knew one thing.

There was no escape.

---

The hall we entered was cold, grand, and empty. Rueben walked ahead, his steps slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. The men held me tightly, their grips bruising my arms. My skin crawled.

I shivered. The thin nightgown I wore did nothing against the chill in the air.

I adjusted, trying to shield myself, but the movement only made my gown slip lower, revealing my shoulder.

Rueben stopped.

Silence.

Then—he turned.

His gaze locked onto the exposed skin, and for a moment, the amusement in his eyes disappeared.

The air shifted.

His jaw ticked, his fingers twitching slightly before he stuffed them back into his pockets.

"Who touched her?"

His voice was soft. Too soft.

I frowned, confused, but the men stiffened. The one on my left, the one who had grabbed me earlier, faltered. "I—I only—"

"Who. Touched. Her?" Rueben repeated, his voice now a whisper.

I looked up, and that’s when I saw it.

The psychotic gleam in his eyes.

The way his lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile.

The way the tension in the room became suffocating.

The man who had grabbed me stammered. "Boss, I only—"

"You only what?" Rueben asked, stepping closer, tilting his head like a predator studying its prey. "You put your hands on what belongs to me?"

I stiffened. Belongs to him?

"I—"

Rueben sighed dramatically, rolling his neck as if bored. Then, without warning—

"Behead him."

The words were calm. Effortless.

Like he had just ordered coffee.

I gasped. "W-What?"

The man’s eyes widened in horror. "Boss, please—!"

Rueben didn’t blink. "Now."

Before I could process it, a blade flashed.

A sickening thud followed.

Warm blood splattered onto my feet, followed by the man’s head.

I didn’t scream.

I couldn’t.

My body refused to move, my mind struggling to catch up with the horror in front of me.

He’s insane.

A complete psychopath.

He finally smiled, looking at me like I had just passed some twisted test.

"You see, little doll," he murmured, stepping over the body like it was nothing, "I take care of what’s mine."

My stomach churned.

I wanted to run.

But I already knew—

I couldn't.

-----

Time had lost all meaning.

Sameera didn't know when one day ended and another began. The room she was trapped in had no windows, no clock—just cold walls and the flickering overhead light that seemed to turn on and off at random. Sometimes it bathed the space in a dull, lifeless glow for hours. Other times, darkness swallowed her whole, leaving her alone with nothing but her thoughts.

But Reuben knew.

He always knew.

Every night, he came. Always at the same time—whenever that was. He never missed a day. Never hurried. Never faltered.

And he was patient.

He reveled in control, in making her feel powerless. His presence was suffocating, his touch a reminder that she was his to do with as he pleased. He made sure she understood that. That she could struggle, resist, fight—but in the end, she was still here.

Still his.

But he never went too far.

Not yet.

Because he was waiting.

Waiting for the day she turned thirteen.

And every time he left, he would pause at the door, casting one last lingering look at her before whispering the same chilling words.

"Not yet, little doll. But soon."