Honeystory
One night in the dark room was supposed to buy my freedom. It was supposed to completely erase the suffocating innocence my stepbrother, Karl, always mocked me for. Tired of being treated like a fragile, pathetic joke, I walked into Chicago’s most exclusive underground club to give my virginity to a nameless, faceless stranger in the pitch black. I wanted a clean break from my past. I wanted to burn my safe reputation to the ground.But the monster waiting for me in that soundproof void wasn’t a stranger. It was him.Hiding behind a black mask and a distorted, rough voice, Karl pinned my wrists above my head and pinned me against the freezing concrete. Before I could even scream his name or process the terrifying familiarity of his touch, our dark sanctuary turned into a slaughterhouse. The steel door flew open, a deafening gunshot cracked through the room, and a man was executed right before my eyes. In a single, bloody heartbeat, my quiet college life died on that floor.The Karl I knew was a myth. He wasn't a lazy, arrogant playboy who maxed out credit cards and dodged university lectures. He was the primary, cold-blooded enforcer for a multi-billion dollar weapons syndicate.Karl didn't give me time to breathe. He ruthlessly stripped me of my torn clothes, forcefully dressed me in a tailored, midnight-blue silk suit, and locked a heavy silver watch around my wrist. It wasn’t a gift.
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