All Chapters of Rise of the Rejected; Bred by the Mafia CEO: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I opened my eyes slowly. The first sensation was not pain, but a profound disorientation. I was wrapped in something impossibly soft, something that smelled faintly of expensive lavender and clean cotton. The last thing I remembered was the cold, harsh pavement of Lot 27, the icy grip of the gate, and the overwhelming desire for the world to simply stop spinning.I cracked my eyes open. Instead of the buzzing fluorescent bulb of a cell or the cracked plaster of my apartment ceiling, I was greeted by a canopy of silk and gold thread. I shot upright, the blanket pooling around my waist. The movement sent a fresh wave of nausea through my head, but the fear was stronger.I wasn't in a prison cell. I was in a palace bedroom. The room was massive, decorated in muted tones of cream and dark wood. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooked a sprawling, perfectly manicured garden bathed in the soft glow of hidden uplights. The silence was absolute, a wealthy, suffocating silence.I looked down. The

“You can live here.”The flat statement echoed in the vast room, a non sequitur that threw my entire mental strategy into disarray. I was ready for a threat, an ultimatum, a demand for a ransom. I was not ready for an invitation.“What?” I repeated, the shock momentarily erasing my carefully cultivated defiance.Khaid didn’t move, his focus shifting back to the blank holographic display as if he were already bored with my reaction.“I find myself with a need, and you, Bluey,” he said, his voice clipped and efficient, “have a need. You need sanctuary, and I need a… fixture.”“I don’t understand. I’m not a fixture,” I countered, though the word felt disturbingly accurate to describe the silent obedience I had seen in Agnes. “I’m leaving. I came here to ask for my necklace and to tell you that I won’t be bothering you anymore aside from delivering the products.”He finally looked at me, his gaze cool and dismissive. “You can leave then. Take the necklace with you”I walked towards the ce

“Please, don't touch. Don't” A little boy, the age of twelve pleaded as a woman with a predatory smile climbed the bed he's kneeling on.“Common boy. You will enjoy it. These are what the big men are dying for” She smiled while moving closer to the boy.“No. . I don't want to. Let me go” the boy wailed. The boy was Khaid was drowning in the cold, thick water of a recurring nightmare. He was twelve again, thin and sharp-boned, trapped in the suffocating black of a room he couldn't escape. The scent of cloying, unfamiliar perfume was overpowering. Above him loomed a figure, a woman with a face he couldn't grasp, always obscured by shadow and malice.She was heavy. Suffocating. “You will never be strong enough, boy,” a voice hissed, not deep or rough, but smooth and cutting like polished glass. “If I can't have your father, then I can have you, right?” She laughed crazily and proceeded to take off his shorts.He struggled, his twelve-year-old limbs powerless against the pressure. His mi

The bitch Khaid requested laid naked on her back on the bed in the tea room. The tea room is where he has sexual intercourse with the girls he carries. No girl has ever entered his room or laid on his bed. He brings them to this tea room. Khaid entered the room, raging. Ready to unleash the frustration and anger on him. “Stand up” He growled. The girl, who was wearing sexy lingerie, knelt on the bed, slowly. Her movements ooze pleasure and sultry appeal. “What do I do, Khaid?” She trailed her fingers across his chest. The next minute, Khaid's fist was wrapped tightly around her neck. Draining life out of her. “You're choking me” “It's Master to you. Don't you dare call my name with your filthy mouth” His eyes were a flashing red ready to explode. “Yes master” The girl nodded with tearful eyes. Khaid released his hold on her and she collapsed on the bed. Coughing and gasping for breaths. “Get on your knees, bitch” Khaid ordered. His voice laced with the authority that

The Specter’s ChamberQye walked in calm, calculated steps towards a separate, heavily protected estate belonging to one of the few men who commanded enough respect and fear to host a simultaneous war council for both the Jager and MTP Clan.“Boss” Qye bowed in respect.The Specter was a retired giant of the old world, a legendary figure whose influence extended deep into the city's power structures, and who had often served as an unofficial mediator and occasionally, an executioner for the Mafia’s elite. He's an old man who still has the gay eyes of one who is still interested in war if war comes to him.His study was not opulent like Nepher Jager’s, but immense, lined entirely with dark, unpolished steel. He sat behind a massive, raw slab of obsidian, looking more like an immovable monument than a man. He was huge, his bulk straining the fabric of his dark suit.Jerry, MTP's trembling envoy, stood stiffly near the door, having delivered his message. Qye was already there, standing s