2: AMAYA’S POV

The door opened without warning that night, and my chest tightened.

The air shifted, heavy and sharp, and I couldn’t move. Fear had become second nature to me from the minute I step foot in this place.

Every instinct screamed at me to run, but the wall behind me reminded me there was nowhere to go.

Even if I did have anywhere to go, I would be dragged right back here.

Raul stepped inside, every movement deliberate, like he owned the shadows themselves.

My heart hammered so hard it hurt.

“You’re awake, girl” he said, voice low, smooth, dangerous.

“I… I am,” I whispered, voice trembling.

He stopped, eyes scanning me.

His smile, thin and cruel, didn’t reach his eyes.

“Do you remember earlier” he said, circling slowly. “When I said you looked perfect for breaking.”

I pressed my hands to my bed, clutching my sheets like it could shield me.

“I… I do,” I whispered, though the words tasted bitter.

His eyes glinted.

“Did your father tell you about the duties of a wife? To please her husband?”

“My aunty did” I managed to respond.

My father’s older sister had gone through the pains of enlightening me on the concept of sex and how a woman had no right to refuse her husband her body.

When I asked her if it would hurt, she simply said a woman’s life is filled with pain and hurt.

The difference between a weak and strong woman was one’s ability to endure and overcome such pains.

Looking at Raul now, he was going to be a permanent source of pain for me.

I could feel it.

“Good,” he said now nearing me, “You were at least taught something. Now, raise your gown and bend over for me”

I was a virgin and had no idea how the dynamics of sex worked but I doubt it was like this.

“I…..I can’t do…..”

Then his hand shot out. The slap landed across my cheek with a crack that made me reel.

Pain blossomed red-hot across my skin, my knees buckling slightly.

“Do not dare say no to me!,” he hissed. “You are mine. Every thought, every breath… mine!!”

I pressed myself against the wall, trembling.

“Yes… I—”

He stepped closer, heat and threat pressing into me. His hand brushed my hair, pulling my head back.

“You will learn to submit to me. You will learn. Tonight.”

I wanted to scream, but my voice failed me.

Then he grabbed me. His hands were rough and forceful.

My knees buckled; I struggled, desperate to push him away while he tried to rip my dress off so he could claim me in the worst way possible.

“Please… no! Stop! You’re hurting me, please!!” I begged, panic rising in waves.

I was sure that all hope was lost for me but that was when I heard it.

BANG!!!

The first gunshot tore through the compound. Windows rattled, walls shook. My chest jolted; terror and relief collided.

He froze mid-motion, eyes narrowing.

“Stay there!” he barked. “Do not move. Not an inch!”

I said nothing, only moved to the corner of the bed, shivering violently.

Gunfire suddenly exploded.

It was rapid, precise, terrifying. Shouts followed. The world outside the room had erupted into chaos.

He cursed, low and guttural, stepping back, trying to figure out what was happening in his compound.

My body quaked.

Another round of shooting. Closer. Louder.

He stumbled, clutching his side. Panic in his eyes.

I could have sworn I saw a flicker of fear. This was the first time he ever looked human to me.

Through the door, masked figures poured into the room.

I couldn’t take my eyes off them: coordinated, lethal, moving like shadows.

They were here for him. I could feel it.

“Stay back!” he yelled, lunging toward them.

Guns flashed, bullets filled the air, and the room became a storm of violence.

I sank to the floor, pressed against the carpet, helpless. My chest pounded, breaths short, trembling uncontrollably.

And then… I saw it happen.

One shot. My husband…..the man I had just begun to fear, fell to the floor.

Blood blossomed across his shirt. His eyes widened, shock replacing anger. He tried to rise. Another shot. This time to the head.

And then he was gone.

Dead.

Just like that.

Before I could breathe, hands grabbed me.

Strong, rough, unyielding. I struggled, screamed, tried to push away. But the masked men were fast, brutal, terrifying.

I was dragged out, stumbling over debris, past broken doors, over shattered glass, and dead bodies.

This was a massacre.

I yelled and begged for them to please let me go as I was innocent in all this.

“Quiet,” a voice commanded.

I didn’t dare speak. My heart was in my throat. My mind raced.

Where were they taking me? Who had sent them? Who were these men?

My father had sold me. My husband had tried to rape me.

And now… he had murdered in front of me and I’m getting kidnapped with no idea what awaited me next.

We reached a van outside. The rain slicked pavement reflected the chaos, flashes of gunfire lighting the sky.

They threw me inside.

The smell of leather and gunpowder filled my senses. I was shoved onto the cold metal floor, hands now tied, my dress ripped and wet with Raul’s blood.

“Where… where are you taking me?” I managed to whisper, voice hoarse.

No answer. Only a glance from one of the masked men.

His eyes were cold, commanding, dangerous And I realized: I was at the mercy of strangers.

As the van doors slammed shut, my body trembled violently. Tears threatened, but this time I let them fall.

The van lurched forward, tires screaming against the asphalt, carrying me into the unknown.

And for the first time since I was born, I understood one thing clearly;

I was going to die..