Chapter 7:: The Wrath Of A King

Chapter 7: The Wrath of a King

Screams echoed through the underground chamber. Raw, desperate screams. A man begged for his life, voice cracking as he sobbed, chained and helpless in the center of the dimly lit room.

Zayn Kingsley sat on a black leather sofa at the far end of the room. A single low-hanging bulb swung slightly above him, casting flickering shadows across his face. He twirled a glass of red wine in his hand, the deep crimson liquid catching the light. His expression was blank, but his jaw was clenched tight. Rage sat heavy on his features.

All around the room, instruments of torment lined the walls. A long iron rack held everything from whips with metal studs, bolt cutters, chains with hooks, to scalpels, syringes, fire pokers, a branding iron, and a car battery hooked up with jumper cables. There were more—some ancient, some modern—all capable of doing one thing: pain.

The chained man—bare-chested, soaked in sweat and fear—was kneeling in the center of the room. His wrists and ankles were bound in thick iron cuffs, linked to the floor with chains. Before him stood a long table, neatly arranged with torture devices. A bone saw. A pair of pliers. A steel mallet. A blowtorch. And a serrated blade that glinted under the light.

"You sold out my information?" Zayn asked, his tone cold and quiet, still watching the wine swirl in his glass.

The man trembled violently. "P-please, I didn't mean to betray you! I swear, it was for my family! My wife, my daughter... they were going to be killed if I didn't give them something. Please, have mercy. I had no choice."

Zayn's eyes lifted slowly. Still silent. Still composed. Then—

CRASH.

He hurled the wine glass to the floor. It shattered into tiny red-stained shards.

He stood and then he laughed.The kind of laughter that had no joy in it. Just madness.

It rang through the chamber, bouncing off stone walls, sending cold shivers down the spines of the guards standing at attention around the perimeter. None of them dared to move or speak.

Zayn began walking, slow, calculated steps toward the table.

"Your family?" he echoed, almost amused. "You think your wife and child matter to me after you sold me out? After you jeopardized everything I’ve built?"

He picked up a jagged bone saw.

"You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood today. Otherwise, I’d use this."

He dropped it with a loud clang, making the man flinch.

Then his hand settled on a curved, razor-sharp hunting knife.

Zayn turned, calm again. His steps deliberate as he approached the trembling traitor.

The man screamed as Zayn grabbed his right hand and without hesitation, sliced cleanly through his wrist.

Blood sprayed across the room while Some splattered on Zayn’s face. He laughed again. Louder this time.

The man wailed—an unearthly scream, filled with agony.

Zayn turned to his men, his smile wide and unhinged.

"Watch closely," he said, voice chilling. "This is what happens to those who betray me."

he smirked then suddenly, there was a phone ringtone echoing in the room.

One of the guards stepped forward quickly. "Sir, your phone. It’s urgent."

Zayn wiped the blood off his hands with a cloth, not bothering to wipe the ones on his face and then he took the device.

"Hello?" he answered.

A pause and His expression changed.

"I’ll be there now."

He ended the call, slipped the phone into his jacket, and turned to one of the guards.

"Beat him unconscious. But don’t kill him. I’ll finish that myself."

He didn’t wait for a reply. He turned on his heels and stormed out.

---

At the hospital, the atmosphere was tense. Cold white lights, the sharp smell of antiseptic, and the quiet hum of machines filled the emergency wing.

Zayn walked in with blood still faintly stained on his shirt sleeves. The nurses didn’t dare stop him. He was a Kingsley.

He headed straight to the attending physician.

"Mr. Kingsley," the doctor said nervously, adjusting his glasses. "Your sister’s heart rate spiked dangerously. She suffered a near-fatal panic episode. Her vitals were all over the place. We had to sedate her immediately."

Zayn’s brows furrowed.

"Is she stable now?"

"Yes, but barely. Her breathing has normalized and her pulse is under control. She’s resting. But it was close, sir. Very close."

Zayn exhaled through his nose, trying to hold back the boiling fury. The betrayal. The hospital. The image of Selene pale and unconscious. And then—the memory of Lucien.

Breathing freely in his mansion.Untouched.

Unharmed.

His hands curled into fists.

"Any more changes," he said coldly, "you call me immediately."

"Of course, sir."

As he left the room, the doctor breath a sigh of relief.

As he approached his car, a guard hurried to open the door.

"Sir," the guard began, bowing slightly. "We’ve received intel. Mr. Lucien, the one responsible for the young lady’s condition... he's not a stranger. He’s her boyfriend."

Zayn froze.

The wind seemed to stop.

He turned slowly.

"What did you say?"

"They were romantically involved, sir. We confirmed it through one of her close friends."

Zayn’s eyes darkened.

His jaw clenched.

Boyfriend? Impossible. Selene had never kept secrets from him. Never.

Unless...

Unless that snake used her. Manipulated her. Played her.

He spun around. "Back to the mansion. Now."

"Yes, sir."

The car screeched to a halt before the vehicle had fully pulled into the driveway. Zayn shoved the door open himself and stepped out before it stopped.

His face was calm. Too calm.

But his fists were tight. His breath came in short bursts.

He stormed through the halls of the mansion.

The guards stepped aside.

He reached the east wing and threw the cell door open.

~~~

Lucien was sitting on the cold floor. He hadn’t eaten. Again.

He wasn’t surprised.

He sat cross-legged, staring at the wall. At the locked door. His lips were dry. His stomach hurt, but he was used to this kind of pain.

Then the door flung open.

Lucien jumped.

Zayn stood there, eyes wild.

Lucien gasped. That face—

It was the same look his father had when he used to beat him.

"G-get away from me," Lucien whispered, scrambling to stand.

Zayn grabbed him.

Lucien struggled.

"Let me go! Please! No! Don’t touch me!"

Zayn yanked him out of the room and dragged him through the hallway.

"Please!" Lucien screamed. "Please, I didn’t do anything! Let me go!"

On the stairs, Amy, Zayn’s daughter, ran out.

"Daddy—"

Vera quickly covered the child’s mouth and eyes, pulling her back behind the wall.

Zayn didn’t even look.

He pulled Lucien to the basement door, opened it, and shoved him inside.

Lucien crashed to the hard cement floor, scraping his arm on the rough surface.

"AHH!" he cried out, holding his bleeding elbow.

Zayn stepped in, slammed the door shut, and locked it.

Lucien sat up, shaking. "Why? What did I do?"

Zayn paced.

"You. Were. Dating. My. Sister."

Lucien froze.

"No! I swear, it’s not what you think!" he cried.

Zayn marched forward. "You think you can lie to me?"

"Please... I’m sorry... I didn’t mean—"

"You don’t deny it? Good. I like honesty. But honest ones suffer the most."

SLAP!

Lucien’s face snapped sideways. Blood formed at the corner of his lips.

Zayn didn’t stop. Blow after blow.

Lucien yelped in pain, trying to shield himself.

Zayn breathed heavily.

It wasn’t enough.

He turned, walked to the wall, opened a box, and pulled out a small, silver knife.

Lucien’s eyes widened.

"No. No, please—NO!"

Zayn walked back and without hesitation, stabbed the knife into Lucien’s arm.

Lucien screamed, a piercing sound that echoed through the basement.

Then—

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, ZAYN?!"

The door burst open.

A voice rang out.

Zayn stopped.

Lucien was gasping, bleeding, curled on the floor.

The room went still.

Blood pooled beneath Lucien.

Zayn stood over him, chest rising and falling. Knife still in hand.

The owner of the voice stepped into the light of the basement ....