It Begins

Isabella

I had a headache.

A bad one.

My head throbbed as I tried to open my eyes. The surface beneath me was soft—too soft. Not the cold, unforgiving floor I was used to.

I forced my eyes open.

This wasn't the basement.

It was a room.

Unfamiliar. Spacious.

What the—

I shot up in bed, and the memories crashed into me all at once. My parents' deaths. Asher. My stepbrother. The choking darkness.

Panic clawed at my chest as I looked around.

This didn't look like a prison.

Pink bedding. White walls. A vanity by the window. A massive wardrobe. And—

My breath hitched.

A jacuzzi.

The room was enormous.

What was going on? Hadn't he brought me here to torture me—just like he said?

The door opened.

Richard walked in, Lucy cradled in his arms, casually stroking her fur like they were old friends.

"Well," he drawled pleasantly, "rise and shine, pretty face."

He looked different today—no suit. Just a crisp blue shirt and white slacks. Hair perfect, as always. I glanced outside and squinted at the bright sunlight pouring in.

I'd been unconscious for an entire day.

"Where am I?" I asked hoarsely.

Lucy licked his chin affectionately.

My stomach twisted.

She hated strangers.

So what was so special about this asshole?

"In Asher's estate," Richard replied, walking over and pulling the curtains wider. The sudden brightness burned my eyes and I shut them briefly. "Much nicer than your daddy dearest's place. Trust me."

"I want to go home."

I pushed myself up and headed for the door—

His hand snapped around my wrist, stopping me cold.

I looked up at him, fury rising. "Let go of me, asshole."

He chuckled, stepping closer. "I'm afraid you don't get a choice anymore."

Then he gently placed Lucy into my arms. "Go on, Lucy. Give your owner some kisses."

Lucy immediately licked my cheek.

My jaw clenched. My breathing grew uneven.

"You piece of—"

My words died when I caught my reflection in the mirror.

I wasn't wearing the clothes I'd had on yesterday.

I was in a nightdress.

Soft. Beige. Feminine. A robe hung loosely over my shoulders, untied, doing little to hide my thighs.

Cold dread seeped into my bones.

"Who the fuck changed my clothes?" I demanded, spinning back to Richard, Lucy jumped off my arms, walking away.

A slow smirk curved his lips.

"Asher," he said calmly. "He's good at it. Otherwise, I would've had to."

My body went rigid.

Heat crawled up my spine—rage tangled with something far more disturbing.

"You goddamned—"

"What's going on here?"

The voice cut through the room like a blade.

I didn't need to turn around.

I knew that voice.

Asher.

I faced him.

He stood in the doorway, dressed in a white shirt and black pants, a cigarette already lit between his fingers. A watch worth more than my entire life rested casually on his wrist. Smoke curled around him, carrying that same intoxicating scent—him.

"Well," Richard said cheerfully, stepping back, "pretty face was shocked to find out you changed her clothes. I'll leave you two to it."

He released my wrist and walked out with Lucy, shutting the door behind him.

The room felt smaller instantly.

Hotter.

Thicker.

Richard was dangerous—but Asher?

Asher was lethal.

He walked toward me slowly, his gaze dragging over every inch of my body. I instinctively pulled the robe tighter around myself, heart racing.

The fabric barely helped. The robe only covered a little, the nightdress just reached my thighs.

He saw everything. Even what was not exposed, I feared.

I swallowed hard. "Listen..." I breathed. "I want to go home."

His eyes lifted to mine, amused. "This is your home now."

He stepped closer.

I stepped back.

His smirk deepened—he liked this. Liked my fear.

"What do you want from me?" My voice trembled despite my effort to steady it. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

I had thought the universe had finally rid me of monsters.

Instead, it had handed me a worse one.

Asher Grayson.

"I want you to pay, Isabella."

The way he said my name sent a shiver straight down my spine.

My back hit the wall. His hands came up, bracketing my head, trapping me.

"For everything," he whispered, leaning closer, his breath brushing my face, warm and intoxicating. "You're here to pay for your father's sins. Your mother's deeds. Every single thing they did to us. Little...." He leaned further, lips brushing against mine, "by little."

My blood ran cold.

"Everything they stole," he continued softly.

What did they do to him?

Did they hurt him the way they hurt me?

"Listen," I whispered desperately. "You don't know—"

"I know everything I need to know," he cut in sharply. "And I've already decided your fate, little one. I am afraid nothing you say will stop me."

He straightened, his voice turning cold and final.

"You can fight it all you want. You're stuck." His eyes bored into mine, "Your day in hell starts today."

He stepped back and gestured toward the door, "Get ready. Come downstairs." A pause, "Your duties begin now."

Tears gathered in my eyes.

A few slipped free, sliding down my cheeks despite my effort to stop them.

"Don't cry, little one," he murmured.

His voice was soft. Almost kind.

But his eyes held nothing but hatred.

"There's so much left for you," he continued calmly. "I haven't even started yet."

He wiped my tears with his thumb, slow and deliberate.

"And about your dress?" he added lightly. "Don't worry—I didn't get my hands dirty. Leona changed it."

Leona.

Hope sparked painfully in my chest.

"She's here?" I asked, my voice breaking.

He chuckled.

"Well—was."

He watched my face closely, savoring the way the hope died, the disappointment settling in. His smile widened because of it.

"She was being a problem," he said casually. "So I sent her away."

My chest caved in.

"Now," he continued, stepping back, "if you're done asking questions—go change. Your clothes are in the closet."

He turned toward the door.

"You'll start cleaning the estate. That's your first duty."

One last look—cold, venomous—was all he gave me before he walked out.

His footsteps faded down the corridor.

And then—

My legs gave out.

I slid down the wall, my body folding in on itself as the sobs tore free, raw and uncontrollable.

The monsters never leave me.

And deep down, I knew—

Asher Grayson would be the worst one yet.