Chapter 3 First Punishment

The morning sun did nothing to warm me.

I woke up in agony, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. As my eyes fluttered open, my blood ran cold.

I wasn’t lying down. I was hanging from the ceiling.

A thick rope was looped around my neck and body, holding me suspended in mid-air. My toes barely touched the surface of a single wooden chair beneath me. One wrong move. One kick. And I would be choking to death instantly. To make matters worse, the rough fibers dug directly into my wound, reopening it and sending sharp waves of pain through my chest.

Across the room, Demi Shire sat comfortably in a leather armchair, sipping his coffee as if watching a morning show.

“You’re going to hang me?” I whispered, my lips pale and dry.

“I enjoy watching you suffer,” he replied calmly, blowing a ring of smoke into the air. He leaned back, looking utterly relaxed.

He smiled darkly, “If you manage to survive the ninety-nine ways of torture I have prepared for you… then maybe, just maybe, I will set you free.”

“Before I even reach number ten, I’ll be dead,” I spat out bitterly.

“Glad you understand,” he smirked.

“My family…” I gasped, struggling to stay conscious. “What have you done to them?”

“For now, they are safe,” he replied coldly, his eyes void of emotion. “But I cannot promise what will happen tomorrow.”

Tears pricked my eyes. My life was in the hands of a monster, and by the look on his face, he had no intention of letting me live.

“Just don’t touch them,” I warned, gathering every ounce of courage I had left. “If you harm my family, I will kill myself right here. And I will haunt you as a vengeful spirit… dragging you straight down to hell with me.”

“Kill yourself?” He chuckled, the sound dark and mocking. “Are you really threatening me, Fyr?”

“Yes,” I smiled weakly, tears falling down my face. “If I die, you can’t make me suffer. And if I’m dead, you can never get your justice for your bride.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

His eyes flashed with rage. In a split second, he lashed out and kicked the chair out from under my feet.

SWISH!

I dropped, and the rope tightened instantly around my neck and chest. I gasped, air refusing to enter my lungs. My vision blurred, my body went numb, and blood seeped freely from my wound.

Through the darkness, I saw him smiling. Satisfied.

He pulled out his gun and aimed it directly at my forehead.

This is it. I’m going to die.

BANG!

The gunshot echoed deafeningly in the room.

But I didn’t feel a bullet. Instead, the rope snapped, and my body crashed hard onto the cold floor. I lay there, coughing violently, greedily sucking in air as my vision slowly cleared.

“I won’t kill you,” he whispered close to my ear, his voice like ice. “Even if you beg for it.”

He lifted me effortlessly into his arms and carried me out of that room, locking me away in his own private quarters.

“From now on, you are my prisoner,” he warned, setting me down on the soft bed. “Never try to escape… or I will slaughter your entire family.”

He left, locking the door behind him.

I lay there, drained of every drop of energy. But then, he did something strange. He sent in his private doctor and nurses to treat my wounds, stitch me up, and stop the bleeding.

Confusion clouded my mind.

If he wants me to suffer, why heal me? Is he insane? Doesn’t seeing me bleed give him satisfaction?

Or… does he want something far more precious than my blood? My life? Or even my soul?

 

Later that evening, hunger gnawed at my stomach. I hadn’t eaten all day, and he still refused to let me leave this room. But then, the door opened.

He walked in carrying a tray of fresh fruits and food. He even checked to make sure my bruises were being treated properly.

“What is all this?” I asked coldly, eyeing the food suspiciously.

“I have a surprise for you tomorrow,” he said casually. “I need your body healed and your wounds closed first.”

The doctor handed me a glass of medicine, but in my anger, I swatted it away, spilling it on the floor.

That was a mistake.

Demi moved in one swift stride. His hand shot out, wrapping tightly around my throat, pinning me against the headboard.

“If you don’t drink it,” he growled, his face inches from mine, eyes burning with fury. “I will have your family executed by sunrise.”

Fear paralyzed me.

“I… I will drink it,” I stammered, trembling.

He let go, smirking darkly. “Good girl.”

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice low and promising. “Tomorrow, you will be reunited with your family.”

He locked the door again, leaving me alone.

Curiosity killed me. What did he mean? Why heal me just to hurt me again?

Then, I heard his voice through the thick walls, talking to his men outside.

“Sir, the wedding gown is ready,” a subordinate reported. “It is exactly the same as you requested.”

“Good,” Demi replied, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

My heart stopped.

A wedding gown?

Exactly the same?

My mind raced, trying to piece the puzzle together, but nothing made sense. Who was getting married? Why did he need me healed?

And why did a terrifying feeling settle deep in my gut, telling me that tomorrow… my life would change forever?