Chapter 1
Sinella
It was raining when they came for me. Not the soft, poetic kind of rain you see in movies, but a cold, bitter storm that slapped against my skin like punishment from the heavens. The kind of rain that didn’t wash anything away—only reminded you of what you’d lost.
Each drop landed like the sky itself was mocking me or grieving with me. I couldn’t tell which. All I knew was that every step I took felt heavier, like the weight of everything was catching up.
I sucked in a shaky breath, blinking fast against the sting behind my eyes. I wouldn't cry. No matter how raw my chest felt. I wouldn’t waste tears on that fucking bastard.
A flash of headlights split through the downpour behind me. I spun around quickly, thrusting my hand into the air, hope lurching in my chest.
But it didn’t stop. The car rushed past like I was invisible, throwing a wave of icy water at my legs. I flinched and stumbled back, soaked deeper, colder. Angrier.
It wasn’t the first time tonight. I’d been trying to wave one down for nearly thirty minutes. Cab after cab passed me by—either already occupied or unwilling to pull over in this mess of a storm. If one had pulled up, I would've begged if it meant getting home faster.
It was well past midnight, but this city usually didn’t sleep. On any other night, the city would be alive—bustling with people, scooters zipping down streets, and music humming from every corner café. The air always held this effortless charm, like the city itself was in love with being alive.
But not tonight. The rain had drowned it all, muting everything, making it strange, making it look as hollow as I felt.
I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, drenched and shivering, my thin top useless against the downpour.
I had just clocked out from the bar where I worked the graveyard shift. My second job, because one wasn’t enough. Not when you’re living alone in a shitty one-bedroom apartment and trying to keep your boyfriend afloat after his online business went under. Not when your parents died in a fatal car crash and there’s no one else left to call family.
Another flash of headlights caught my attention. I turned again, a little more frantic, and lifted my hand higher.
Please. Just stop.
But the cab didn’t even slow down. Just like the others before it.
My chest twisted, the weight in my heart pressing down harder. I kept walking. Faster now. My clothes were plastered to my body, my shoes squelching with every step. And still, my mind wouldn’t stop looping the same images—the same words from that message—burning them deeper and deeper into my skull.
Rage boiled hotter inside me, clashing with the ache in my chest.
I needed to get home. To see it with my own eyes. To catch him in the act—because some stupid, clinging part of me still didn’t believe it. Still hoped maybe it was a mistake. A prank. Anything but what it really was.
The rain had started slow, almost gentle. But the moment I saw the pictures—everything changed. The sky cracked open like it was mirroring me.
At first, I thought the message was from my best friend, Veronica—but it wasn’t. Just two pictures attached to message from an unknown number that said:
"They aren’t stopping. This will be a marathon fuck.”
My hands trembled as I read it under the glittering light outside the bar’s entrance. For a second, I thought maybe I was hallucinating. Sleep-deprived. Paranoid.
But I wasn’t.
The first picture hit me like a punch to the ribs.
There he was—my perfect boyfriend of three years. Naked. Lying on my bed, with a masked girl straddled him. His hands cupped her breasts, her nails dug into his chest like she’d claimed him.
The second picture was worse.
He was buried deep inside her. Holding her hips in that way I’d always craved—rough, possessive. His head was thrown back, lips parted in a growl.
The kind of growl he used to make when it was me under him. When I was the one falling apart for him.
And gods help me, the sight did something wicked to my body.
My pussy wept with need. Shameful, traitorous need. The ache hit me low and deep, just as hard as the heartbreak that followed it.
Because no matter how much I suddenly craved his cock in that moment—how badly I wanted to feel him inside me—it still hurt.
It hurt like hell.
It should’ve been me.
It was always supposed to be me. But there he was, with someone else. And not just anywhere. In my bed. In my room.
I had made that space a haven for us. For him.
Since two years ago, when the online business he’d poured everything into crashed. He had nothing left. Nowhere to go.
So I let him in. I fed him. Kept him warm. Gave him my body. Paid the rent. Covered the utilities while he promised he was “so close” to turning things around.
But while I was working back-to-back shifts, burning myself out for us, he was—
“My daughter, wait!” A unfamiliar voice cut through my thoughts.
I turned and saw an old woman, running toward me. She held an umbrella high over her head.
When she reached me, she pressed the handle into my palm without a word, only offering a small, kind smile—one that made my throat tighten even more.
As she hurried back inside the nearby florist shop, I stared after her, too stunned to speak.
I hadn’t thanked her. I couldn’t. My throat had closed the moment those photos hit my screen.
I clutched the umbrella tighter over my head as I turned to the left road that led to my apartment. I would soon get home to see them.
A drop of tear spilled down and I quickly wiped it away.
Noel had the audacity to do that in my room. On the mattress I bought. After everything I sacrificed.
I thought I was the only girl who could give him everything he wanted. Who had given him everything.
And he dared to fuck her like that—like I didn’t exist? Like I hadn’t poured my heart, my body, my entire life into him?
He had the nerve. The gall—to do it in my room.
Those photos burned into my brain. Taunting me. Showing me that I was the fool. The disposable one.
I didn’t know who hated me enough to rub it in like that—or maybe they thought they were helping. Either way, the damage was done.
I kept walking faster, ignoring the sting in my chest and the bitter taste in my throat. I pulled the umbrella tighter over my head, though the wind kept tilting it sideways.
By the time I reached half a block from my apartment, the rain had dropped to a drizzle.
A sleek black car pulled up beside me quietly. I wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the hard slam opening of the door that jerked out of my thoughts.
Something inside me screamed to run. Do anything to get away.
But my heart was already broken, and the rest of me—whatever was left—felt too numb to care.
I glanced over as two huge men in black suits stepped out. Faces stone cold. Eyes like ice—and absolutely no hint of mercy.
They moved toward me with the confidence of wolves who had cornered their prey.
A shiver shot down my spine and I quickened my pace.
“Don’t you dare run,” one of them growled.
I turned, blinking up at them through the rain, fingers tightening around the handle of the umbrella I didn’t remember closing.
“I—I don’t know you,” I stammered, my heart pounding so hard I could taste it in my throat.
“You don’t need to,” the other said.
He had a scar down his jawline and a kind of calm that made my stomach twist.
“When you meet him... you’ll understand.”
“Him?” I whispered, backing away. “Who is him?”
“Your Lord,” the one without scarred answered smoothly. “Or, if you prefer… your owner.”
I blinked—confused, terrified, furious.
“My Lord? My owner? what the hell are you talking about?! ”
“Not our job to explain,” the scarred one cut in, stepping closer.
“We were told to retrieve you. Now, you coming quietly, or do we have to make a scene?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snapped, backing up, though every instinct screamed that running would be useless. “You’ve got the wrong girl.”
“No,” he replied. “You’re exactly the one he wants.”
“I haven’t done anything—”
“Matt,” the scarred one snapped coldly. “Don’t waste time. Take her.”
I bolted, throwing the umbrella aside. My shoes splashed through puddles as I ran, but they were faster. Much faster.
Matt grabbed me from behind, an iron arm locking around my waist.
I struggled, kicked—managed to elbow one in the ribs—but it was like fighting a brick wall.
“Let me go!” I screamed, but the scarred one lunged forward, slamming a strip of tape over my mouth. In the next breath, he wrenched my wrists behind my back and snapped cold metal cuffs around them—tight enough to sear.
“Stop squirming,” he muttered.
My breath turned shallow as Matt slung me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
I was thrown into the back seat, with the scarred one to slide in beside me.
The car jerked forward as Matt started driving. Panic pressed against my ribs like a second heartbeat.
Where the hell were they taking me—and who the hell was this “Lord” who’d ordered it?
I thrashed, wrists burning against the cuffs, shoulder slamming against the door. Maybe it would fly open. Maybe someone would hear—someone would see.
“Easy,” the scarred one murmured, like I was a rabid dog he planned to tame.
“She’s still got fight,” Matt said from the front, watching me in the rearview mirror.
“Enough,” the scarred one warned.
But I didn’t stop. I shoved at the door again with my bound hands.
“Fuck off,” he growled before something hard cracked against the side of my skull.
Pain exploded—white-hot—cracking through me like lightning.
The world dimmed at the edges. My body slumped, the fight draining out of me like spilled water.
“Goddamn it, Stefano,” Matt snapped. “You weren’t supposed to knock her out.”
“She’s not out,” the scarred one—Stefano—replied flatly. “Just calmed.”
A muffled sound escaped me beneath the tape—broken, almost pitiful. My head throbbed like a war drum, my vision swimming in and out of focus. Tears burned the corners of my eyes as reality settled over me.
I didn’t know if I’d ever come back.
Wherever they were taking me. Whoever they called Lord— I had a feeling he would be far worse.
~~~~
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