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Chapter 18 - Sleep well, Severin?  

Isolde stepped inside and shut the door behind her. She raised a hand to stop Maxen from coming any closer. "You said we needed to talk, didn't you? Then talk. No need to come near."

Maxen sank back onto the couch, looking a mess nothing like Mathias, who had always seemed composed even when staring at her like she was the enemy earlier. "I'm losing my mind, Isolde. Seeing you here... I'm losing it. You're not supposed to be in this place!"

Isolde crossed her arms over her chest. "Then where should I be? Back in prison?"

To her surprise, Maxen nodded. "Yes. Prison would've been better than this godforsaken place. At least in prison, I could've broken you out. But here? There's nothing I can do. I can't get you out of this fucking hellhole! You don't belong here. Why the hell did you come, Isolde? Why would you walk into this nightmare?"

Isolde clenched her fists, rage bubbling up. He was talking as if she'd chosen this fate. As if she had walked into it willingly and gladly. "You think I had a choice? I was beaten in that prison, harassed, humiliated—and I had to watch my mother go through the same fucking thing! Of course I did whatever I could to get us out! Or at least to get her out of that cursed place!"

"You should've waited. Just a little longer. I was trying, Isolde. I was rushing through the mission to get the Boss to reward me. He always grants whatever Mathias and I ask for after a clean job." Maxen slammed his fist down, face twisted in frustration.

"But now I can't ask him to free you. Because you're not a prisoner anymore. You're his prisoner. You're the enemy. If I ask for your release now, it'll be seen as betrayal. You should've waited, Isolde. You should've just held on a bit longer."

"HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO WAIT?!" Isolde screamed, fury tearing through her throat. Maxen flinched and looked up just as she stepped closer.

"I didn't even know you were trying to get me out! We ended things two fucking years ago, Maxen. You never came to see me. We didn't talk not once for two years. I was rotting in prison, being tortured, watching my mother suffer right in front of me. I had no hope left that anyone would come help me. No one ever has."

Isolde's face was flushed red, her voice shaking, her chest heaving as she let out everything she had been holding in for far too long.

"No one helped me when my father beat me. No one helped me when his mistress tortured me. No one ever reached out a hand to save me. And now you expect me to just be patient in that hellhole of a prison?!"

"In my head back then the only thought I had was that I was the only one who could save myself. I was the only one who could get my mother out of that cursed place. I didn't have any other choice. I was broken, covered in bruises and broken bones. If I had stayed there just a little longer, I would've died. And so would my mother."

"At least here… at least here my mother is free out there somewhere. My little brother still has a chance to grow up with a parent, maybe not both, but at least he still has our mother. Because our father is dead!" Tears streamed down Isolde's face, soaking her cheeks.

"I… I didn't want to end up in this place either. I hate being treated like I'm worthless. I don't want to be raped. I don't want to be passed around. I don't want to serve Severin. I don't want to be here! I'd rather die than live like this, but I can't die. Not yet. Not until I know my mother is truly safe and happy… with my little brother."

Her knees gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, shoulders trembling violently as she cried. Maxen walked over and pulled her into his arms. Isolde fought him, trying to shove him away, but he held her tightly, refusing to let go.

"I swear… I'll find a way to get you out of here," Maxen whispered into her ear, even though he knew it was probably impossible. His fingers brushed gently against the scar on her neck, which was a scar he recognized because he had one just like it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I should've come sooner. If only I had finished the mission faster and asked for my reward sooner you wouldn't be here now." He hoped his voice and arms could help calm the storm inside her—even just a little.

"If anyone's to blame for what happened, it's me. You wouldn't have hated your sister so much if that night hadn't happened. I'm sorry, Isolde."

"You're cruel," she whispered bitterly. "You shared me with your brother. You played with me."

"I know… I know. I'm sorry. I'll fix it even if it costs me my life. I'll make it right. I swear."

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Severin removed his bloodstained gloves, his jaw clenched as he stared at the pile of corpses before him, the bodies of his men, killed by his own hands.

The blood smeared across his face, his clothes, and his gloves belonged to them to the men who had once served him, now silenced forever after he tore open their airways with his favourite small folding knife. They had screamed, begged, cried for mercy. Now, they were nothing but meat.

They hadn't betrayed him. That wasn't why they died. Severin killed them because they failed him. Because they disappointed him. Because they couldn't carry out a simple fucking order.

He'd told them to reinforce the security around the warehouse his warehouse, where he kept his cache of illegal firearms. Ever since his last meeting with Corvin, when they discussed the problems Lucien had started causing, Severin had known it was only a matter of time before Lucien targeted the place.

He had even planned to move the weapons little by little. But now? Gone. All of it. Taken by Lucien.

Lucien didn't even kill the guards. Just beat them until they couldn't move, couldn't call for help. By the time they managed to reach Nikhael, everything was already gone. And Lucien left behind a card.

Handwritten. Mocking.

"Did you sleep well, Severin?"

Scrawled in Lucien's handwriting, that single sentence made one of Severin's brows twitch. His thoughts went, of course, to Isolde.

How the fuck did Lucien know that last night, for the first time in years, Severin had managed to sleep more than two goddamn hours?

Severin was already furious for letting his guard down, for sleeping in the same room as someone handpicked by his enemy. And now Lucien had twisted the knife deeper.

So Severin took it out on the ones who failed him. His men. And no, killing them hadn't satisfied him. Not really. But it would serve as a warning to the rest: Fuck up, and you'll die screaming.

Severin threw the card Lucien had left after crushing it tightly in his fist. He was certain Lucien was enjoying himself now, basking in the illusion of victory, thinking this was the end of Severin's reign. But Severin would never let that happen. He wouldn't allow Lucien's cheap tricks to ruin what he had built on blood, sweat, and the lives of countless men.

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"Where's the girl?" Severin asked as soon as he returned.

"Which one, Boss?" Nikhael replied, walking two steps behind him. "If you mean Tiffara, she's with Mathias right now. If you mean Isolde, she's currently serving her first client."

Severin stopped walking. Nikhael halted behind him.

"She has a client? Her first?" Severin asked without turning around. "I thought no one was stupid enough to waste money on spending a night with her."

"Yes, sir."

"Who?"

"Maxen, sir."

Of course, it was Maxen. From how he came begging this morning, asking Severin to give Isolde to him, Severin had already guessed she meant something to him. Something more than just another girl.

Severin passed room 429, glancing at the door briefly before heading toward the elevator to return to his suite.

He still hadn't figured out what Lucien's actual plan was. Lucien had sent that woman here, Isolde, with a face mirrored Renata's. He had locked Maxen up two years ago when Maxen was involved with Isolde. Now Lucien knew about Severin's insomnia… and somehow also knew that, recently, Severin had finally managed to sleep through the night for the first time in years. And it just so happened that the one who helped him sleep… was the girl Lucien sent.

It was all too perfect to be a coincidence.

And yet, Severin was certain Isolde hadn't made contact with Lucien outside. She had been cuffed the whole night. There was no way she had injected something into him that made him sleep that deeply.

Severin wasn't careless. Even the sound of footsteps could jolt him awake. He could sense when someone got close when someone stood behind him. But last night, Isolde had been shackled, unable to come near him. And this morning, Severin woke not because she moved but because he heard Nikhael's footsteps approaching the door.

Severin had already been sitting upright before Nikhael opened it.

At first, Severin thought he had only slept for two hours, like usual. He was already uneasy about falling asleep in the same room as someone sent by Lucien. But his mood soured even more once he realized he had slept through the entire night next to Isolde.

He unbuttoned his bloodstained shirt after entering his suite, tossing it carelessly aside before collapsing onto the sofa, covering his eyes with his forearm.

He remained like that for a long while, breathing steadily like someone was asleep. But the truth was, he hadn't slept at all. His body may have been still, relaxed even… but his mind wouldn't stop racing, relentlessly trying to piece together whatever Lucien was planning.

 

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