Chapter3

The bodyguard released his grip, and my mother crumpled to the concrete floor. A tight wad of papers slipped from her grasp, scattering across the ground—missing person flyers.

"Who the hell are you? Why did you bring me here? I want to see my daughter!" my mother demanded, scrambling in a panic to prop herself up.

Just as the words left her mouth, her gaze locked onto the iron cage. She froze. Recognition flickered in her eyes as she stared at my face, but her mind entirely refused to connect it to the grotesque, animalistic monstrosity attached below my neck.

"Ah... ah..." I gasped, shrinking backward with everything I had left, desperate to drag my deformed, canine-like hind legs into the safety of the shadows.

"Lysa?" my mother’s voice trembled. She lunged toward the cage. "Is that you? How did you turn into this? What did they do to you?"

Damian stared down at her with cold indifference.

"Damian..." I croaked, dragging my mangled body to the bars. I slammed my head against the heavy iron mesh. Bang! Bang!

"Let her go! Please, just let her go! She doesn't know anything!" I begged, slamming my forehead against the floor in frantic submission.

Damian’s response was a venomous whisper. "When you poisoned my parents, they didn't know anything, either."

My entire body seized up.

Damian gave a subtle wave of his hand. A bodyguard stepped up instantly, violently pinning my mother’s arms behind her back. Another clamped his hand around her jaw, forcing her mouth open before pouring a murky, yellow liquid down her throat.

"Cough... cough... what did you make me drink?" she gasped, thrashing wildly.

"A heavy-duty aphrodisiac. The kind that would drive a bull elephant insane." Damian tilted his head slightly.

At the far end of the basement, the heavy iron door of the dark room swung open. Three shirtless men, covered in crude tattoos and reeking of sleaze, swaggered down the stairs. They stared at my mother on the floor, letting out wet, obscene chuckles.

"Lock her in there with them," Damian ordered, gesturing toward the dark room.

"No! Damian, you're out of your fucking mind! She's my mother! She's fifty years old!" I screamed at him, tearing my throat raw, but it was completely useless.

My mother was brutally dragged into the pitch-black room. The three men slithered in right behind her.

Clang.

The massive iron door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place.

"The suffering you forced upon me, I’m going to make you taste it a thousand times over." Damian slowly settled into a leather armchair.

"Lysa—help me! Let me go! You animals! Let go!" Thick, breathless laughter from the three men bled through the thick steel.

"Mom! Mom!" I battered my skull against the iron bars, hopelessly trapped inside the cage.

Damian sat there listening as her agonizing screams slowly morphed into drug-induced, desperate pleas for relief. Growing visibly bored, he eventually stood up and walked away.

It took three hours. By then, dead silence had swallowed the room. Damian returned and gave a simple command. "Open the door."

The three men walked out, buckling their belts. A rancid, stomach-churning stench of blood and bodily fluids flooded the air. The leader scratched the back of his head. "Boss, the old lady was too fragile. She croaked before we could even really get going."

My blood ran ice-cold.

The iron door stood wide open, allowing me a clear view of the thing lying inside. It couldn't even be called a human being anymore.

A violent spasm seized my stomach. I gagged, violently vomiting a mixture of bile and blood onto the concrete. My mother was dead. The sole person in this world who loved me had been dragged into my hell, tortured to death in the most filthy, grotesque way imaginable.

Kill Damian. That was my only thought. I’m going to kill him.

But I was completely powerless. My glassy eyes suddenly locked onto a rusted, jagged bolt jutting out from the bottom corner of the iron cage. I clawed at the ground with my deformed forelimbs, propelling myself forward. Without a single second of hesitation, I smashed my temple directly into the rusted metal spike.

Finally, the world went blissfully dark.

...

Beep... beep... beep...

The rhythmic, sterile chirping of a heart monitor drilled heavily into my eardrums. A thick, rigid tube was shoved down my throat. I hadn't died. Slowly, Damian's expressionless face came into focus above me.

His fingers brutally clamped around my bruised jaw, forcing my eyes to lock onto his. "You want to die? Do you really think a dog has the right to decide when it lives or dies?"

He released his grip, wiping his hand in disgust. "Your worthless life belongs to me now to pay down your debt. Until I forgive you, you don't even have the right to stop breathing."

I snapped my fang-filled jaw at him, trying to tear his flesh, but Damian was utterly unbothered by my pathetic rebellion. He simply took a half-step back.

Relocated in the corner of this clinical basement setting, a massive LCD screen had been set up while I was unconscious.

"Since you're finally awake, I have something special for you to watch," he said, coldly snapping his fingers.

A bodyguard clicked a remote, and the giant screen flared to life. High-decibel, blood-curdling screams instantly shredded through the room, piercing my eardrums.

It was the dark room. They were playing the raw, uncensored, and stomach-turning footage of exactly what those men had done to my mother.