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FIFTY-FOUR: Slashes

Penulis: Circeleari
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-12-12 23:58:43

The shape in front of me finally becomes clear enough that I realize it’s not a person—thank god—but the central post. Thick leather straps hang from it like dead limbs. The lantern’s weak glow catches the metal rings and sends a dull glint across the room.

My lungs start working again, barely. I drag in a breath that tastes like damp stone and old iron. My robe slides down my arm again, and I yank it up, fingers shaking. The air here is colder than the hallway. It sinks into my skin, settles in my bones.

I take one careful step forward.

The floor is rough, uneven stone. Some bolts stick up enough that my toes catch them, making me stumble. I grab the wall and steady myself. The lantern on the far wall flickers with a sudden draft from the vent above. It throws shadows across the chains on the walls.

Chains.

There are more than I realized.

Rows of them, some thicker than my wrist, hanging from rings set deep into the stone. The metal looks used. Not old and forgotten—used. Fresh scrat
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  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   SISTY-TWO: The Mall

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  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   SIXTY: Sick

    “Does it scare you?”The words don’t echo. They don’t need to. The room is already tight enough, stone walls pressing in, iron biting into the air. I don’t answer. I don’t turn around. My fingers are still curled into the torn canvas, knuckles white, nails bent backward against the frame.My lungs forget how to work.“Yes,” I say finally, because lying feels stupid when he’s this close. “Everything about this place does.”Silence.Then a sound—fabric shifting. A step backward. Space returns in inches, not relief.“This is where they keep me,” Dante says.I swallow. My throat clicks. “Keep you.”“When it starts.”My jaw tightens. I repeat it before I can stop myself. “When what starts?”“The curse.”The word lands wrong. Too plain. Too small for a room like this.I let go of the painting. The cloth drops back into place, hiding the scratches beneath it like a lie patched too late. I turn slowly, because fast feels dangerous.Dante stands near the wall, one hand braced against the iron

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   FIFTY-FOUR: Slashes

    The shape in front of me finally becomes clear enough that I realize it’s not a person—thank god—but the central post. Thick leather straps hang from it like dead limbs. The lantern’s weak glow catches the metal rings and sends a dull glint across the room.My lungs start working again, barely. I drag in a breath that tastes like damp stone and old iron. My robe slides down my arm again, and I yank it up, fingers shaking. The air here is colder than the hallway. It sinks into my skin, settles in my bones.I take one careful step forward.The floor is rough, uneven stone. Some bolts stick up enough that my toes catch them, making me stumble. I grab the wall and steady myself. The lantern on the far wall flickers with a sudden draft from the vent above. It throws shadows across the chains on the walls.Chains.There are more than I realized.Rows of them, some thicker than my wrist, hanging from rings set deep into the stone. The metal looks used. Not old and forgotten—used. Fresh scrat

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