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The Cipher

Penulis: Luna Sads
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-05-23 19:00:28

There are two kinds of people in this world—those who kneel and those who make others kneel. I am neither of them.

I don't bow, nor do I defy for the sake of rebellion.

I do not kneel, because I have no master. I do not stand defiantly because I do not need to prove the Bianchi power. I exist beyond those choices.

I am an obedient child. That's what I make my parents believe at least. Or I simply don't care. They think I am one.

But they won't anymore. Not after last night.

Not after the scene my father has to deal with. Media. Paparazzi. And even some of his benefactors. That was fun at least. He'll ruin my match, I'll ruin his reputation. That makes the two of us. Two sides of the same coin.

It would take him another week to deal with Alexei Volkov, after I make a scene at his party. The son of Lorenzo Bianchi. Future heir to Bianchi throne. As if I give a fuck about any of those things.

I would've done something more scandalous to make sure he remained in his study for the rest of
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  • His Forbidden Muse   The Cipher

    His blood is on my hands and so is her lipstick. The combination is art.I stare at the steering wheel, knuckles still burning from the impact, adrenaline still jerking in my veins like a live electricity. She’s besides me, clutching onto her clothes like her life depends upon it. Like an wounded animal, exactly how I feel.And I haven’t moved.Not for the last ten minutes. Not even looked at her.Because if I look at her, I’ll ruin her again. I’ll fuck her. I’ll make her cry again. And I don’t know if that’s a warning or a promise.She’s silent, not crying anymore. Breathing too softly, afraid the sound might provoke the monster.Me.I light a cigarette with hands though should be in cuffs. I never force women. Fuck. Why does she have this affect on me?The smoke curls in my lungs like penance.Because I can’t look at her right now. I don’t want to remember the way her soft lips split when I pressed too hard. The way her legs trembled when I made her take all of me, even when she b

  • His Forbidden Muse   The Muse

    Madness has a name, and it wears my mouth like a prayer. A curse I cannot lift. It’s like a loophole, no matter what I do, where I got, it always leads me to the madness.I’ve never felt this way.Like I’m possessed by something that shouldn’t be named. Shadows whispering sweet deliriums into my ears. It’s not love, and strangely, it’s not hate either. It’s something in between. Something cruel, something all-consuming. As if I’m moving barefoot on gravel, knowing my feet are bleeding, but I can’t stop.That’s what it feels like right now as I’m being dragged somewhere. My wrist aching in his hand, my chest heaving up and down, there’s this frantic rhythm of my heart, yet all I can feel is his mouth on mine.It’s not like he’s never kissed me before.But it’s… different this time.As if he is laying a claim.I don’t remember how I got outside. Maybe I never left the ring. Maybe I’m still there, still burning and drowning in the aftermath of his violence.Because he’s touching me again

  • His Forbidden Muse   The Muse

    Rox’s body is barely recognisable now, hunched and stumbling with more bone and blood than the man himself. His knees buckle with every step, skin split open in places flesh shouldn’t be exposed. He looks like a cracked porcelain doll someone tried to stich with fists instead of gentle hands.Massimo stands in front of him, as glorious and terrifying I’m afraid for Rox.The skin has torn from his knuckles too, but it’s just rage. But he’s no more grinning or smirking.He looks… terrifying and otherworldly.Like sin sculpted into his face, hair sweat-drenched and wild. There’s something feral in his stance. A stillness that makes my pulse roar.The crowd is still mayhem.“Look what you’ve done,” Someone hisses as I feel something sharp on my skin. Turning around, I find Sienna standing close to me with her nails digging into my flesh as stares at where Massimo is. I wince. “He was perfectly monstrous until you came along.”I blink at her. “What are you saying?”She finally turns to me

  • His Forbidden Muse   The Muse

    I can still feel his fingerprints on my wrist. Still smell him on his jacket like he poured himself into the lining. Warm leather and gunpowder dreams. Or nightmares. I can’t tell. It’s just musky and smoky. The kind of scent that stains your soul and leave its imprint for a long time.And now as I watch him walk toward the ring like he owns the fucking underworld and everyone in it.Because maybe he does.Massimo Bianchi sheds his shirt like he’s peeling his skin and the crowd explodes. Like rabid, drunk on the spectacle of him. It’s a sound that rattles in my ribs. Cheers and those damning screams. It’s maddening.The lights are harsh, white and spotlighting sin like it’s holy. And he stands there, bare-chested, tattooed and terrifying. His eyes are blazing like someone lit a match inside his skull and forgot to blow it out.I swallow.Why am I getting an ominous feeling? But coming to think of it, isn’t it already vicious to begin with? It takes no genius to understand what will ha

  • His Forbidden Muse   The Cipher

    Hell has a door, and tonight, I’m walking her straight through it.The tires screech against wet gravel as I pull up to the warehouse like a beast returning to its lair. But I’ve never good at listening, to reason, rules or pretty little things with stormy eyes and trembling lips.She sits frozen in the passenger seat like she’s holding her breath. Like breathing might encourage fate to screw her harder.“Out.”She doesn’t move. Of course she doesn’t. Princesses aren’t used to being ordered around without a security detail or a butler waiting with a fucking mint.So, like the gentleman I am, I oblige.I round the car, jerk the door open and haul her out by her soft wrist. She gasps, stumbles like she’s forgotten how her legs work.“Where the hell are we?” She pits all attitude and zero leverage.I grin, and she flinches. “Welcome to the jungle, sweetheart. Where men bleed for sport and boys cry when their designer shoes get dirty.”Her lips part as she looks up at the looming warehous

  • His Forbidden Muse   The Cipher

    Power tastes sweeter when it trembles in your palm.When it begs, when it breathes, when it rises to slip through your fingers like silk laced with panic.When it says no with its mouth but yes with its body.When it pretends it has choices.It’s even sweeter when it’s defiant. When it glares instead of weeps. Because then, breaking it becomes art.See, I don’t want power handed to me on a silver platter. I want it writhing on the floor, forced to crawl. I want it to hate me first, before it stars needing me.Power is knowing they can’t fucking breathe without your name on their lips and veins.That’s not just power. that’s divinity with a dirty mouth. And I never said I was God.Because I’ve been known to play Him.My little muse is trembling. And I’m fucking savouring it.Her delicate, trembling fingers are still pressed against the hood of my car, right where I pinned her. I glance down , watching the contrast between us. Her hand is swallowed in mine, dwarfed like she was ma

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