Severin sneered down at Nikhael, who was kneeling before him. "Your promise was bullshit, Nikhael. You came to me that night, the night I slaughtered my own fucking family and you begged. You fucking begged me not to kill Liraine. You swore your loyalty. Swore she wouldn't get in my way. You said you'd keep an eye on her. And look where we are now. You failed. You failed your job, your vow. You fucking disappointed me, Nikhael."
Nikhael's hands trembled even harder. Isolde, still holding Liraine close, could tell Nikhael was scared shitless—terrified Severin would kill her.
"You know what happens to traitors, don't you?" Severin continued his voice like ice.
"You're the one who's executed them for me—time and time again. You killed them with your own hands, on my command. So do it again. Like you fucking should. Liraine betrayed me. She deserves a bullet in her skull."
Nikhael's eyes widened in horror. The thing he feared most had become a reality. He had warned Liraine over and over to stop pushing her luck. He knew this would happen. Working under Severin for years had taught him one thing clearly: this man towering above him wasn't someone you crossed. Not without paying the price in blood.
Severin barked an order, and two of his men grabbed Liraine.
"Take her to the underground," he said coldly. Blood wasn't going to stain the hallways, not with the club reopening in a few hours. Customers would start showing up soon.
But it wasn't just Liraine who got dragged away; Nikhael was seized, too. Isolde struggled, desperate to keep Liraine in her arms, but she was no match for Severin's goons. They tore Liraine away like she was nothing.
She followed behind, helpless and heart pounding. Liraine was the only person in this fucked-up place who had shown her even a shred of care. Even if that care was tainted with ulterior motives, it was still something, and Isolde couldn't lose the only person she had left to talk to.
In the underground, they tied Liraine up right next to the target Isolde had been practicing on.
Isolde shook her head in disbelief. There's no way Severin would actually go this far. This was his sister. His flesh and blood. How could he so easily decide to end her?
But when she looked at Severin's face, there wasn't even a flicker of hesitation. Nothing. Like Liraine's life didn't mean a damn thing.
Isolde turned her eyes to Nikhael. He wouldn't just stand there and do nothing, would he? He had protected Liraine all this time, surely for a reason. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe something else. But one thing was certain: Nikhael had to do something.
Nikhael looked frozen. His eyes locked on Liraine's bound figure. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his whole body shaking the moment Severin drew his gun.
Once again, Nikhael dropped to his knees in front of Severin. All this time, Isolde had seen Nikhael as Severin's shadow—emotionless, obedient, merciless, like a cold reflection of the man he served.
But now?
He looked pitiful. Broken. Small. As the second most feared man in this place had simply… ceased to exist.
"Please, Boss," Nikhael begged, voice cracking. "Just this once, let her go. Don't kill her. Punish her however you want, but let her live."
"I've done everything you've ever asked. I've never once asked for anything in return. Just her safety. That's all I've ever wanted."
Severin raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Nikhael still kneeling at his feet. "What punishment could possibly match Liraine's betrayal, other than killing her? Gouging out one of her eyes? Cutting off a leg and an arm?"
"I'd rather fucking die than live with the mercy of a bastard like you!" Liraine screamed from where she was tied.
Nikhael growled low in his throat. She was making it worse again. His bloodshot eyes filled with unshed tears as he turned a sharp, furious gaze on her. He didn't say anything, but the look alone screamed: Can't you just shut the fuck up for once in your life?
That's exactly what Isolde thought as she watched the silent exchange. Severin rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"As a lesson to the others... how about you take her place instead? Liraine doesn't have to die today, but you—" he pointed a finger at Nikhael, "—you'll be the one tied up. A walking example of what failure looks like."
"I fucking hate failure. And you failed, Nikhael. You were supposed to keep an eye on her. So tell me are you willing to take her place?"
Nikhael nodded instantly, without hesitation. He was ready to do anything, anything, as long as Liraine got to live, even if it meant trading his own life for hers.
The ropes binding Liraine were undone, but she was still dragged to the corner and forced to sit there watching. She didn't fight. She didn't scream. She just stared in confusion as Nikhael willingly stepped in to take her place, letting himself be tied up in her stead.
"And now... our special little prisoner will be the one to punish him," Severin said.
Isolde's head jerked up at his words, eyes wide, immediately shaking her head. No.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't pull her into this madness and force her to dirty her hands with Nikhael's blood just to satisfy his cruelty.
"If you don't walk to me right now, I'll make sure your family becomes nothing more than a fucking memory."
Isolde's chest burned. Of course. Of fucking course, he'd drag her family into this. She wanted to kill him, put a bullet right between his eyes, and watch his brain splatter across the floor. Instead, her legs moved against her will, against every screaming thought in her mind, because she had no choice.
She stepped toward Severin, now standing at his side. In her hands, a pistol—pointed at Nikhael, who was tied down, silent.
"You've been training for long enough," Severin whispered behind her, voice low and venomous.
"I saw the results. I know you hit the target when I was gone." He nodded toward the human-shaped target beside Nikhael, its head riddled with bullet holes.
"There are four bullets left in that gun. You get four shots. If you don't hit what I tell you to hit..." Severin leaned in closer, licking his lips like the devil himself, before whispering the price of failure:
"Then your family will be the ones taking the bullets. While you're here, bleeding your soul dry to protect them, they're probably laughing happy without a fucking clue what you're going through to keep them safe."
Severin leaned in closer, his breath hot against Isolde's ear, whispering low and cruelly as his large hands gripped her hips and squeezed.
"If the bullet hits anywhere else on Nikhael's body—anywhere but his head or left chest—you'll be the one punished. For failing." His voice dipped, almost gleeful.
"If the first shot misses... you're getting a brand-new mark today. I'll carve it into you myself, with my knife. My initials. On your skin. A fucking reminder that you belong to me." He slid his hand down to the lower left side of Isolde's stomach, fingers brushing dangerously close to her most intimate place.
"Right here sounds perfect, don't you think? So every time you spread your legs for some other man, you'll remember, you're my property. Imagine your precious Maxen going down on you, only to see my name staring back at him. Wonder how red his face would turn."
"And if the second, or third, or fourth shot misses, then I promise you the punishment will be worse. I'll make sure you lose sleep just thinking about what the fuck I'll do to you."
Severin grabbed Isolde's trembling hand and raised the pistol, forcing it straight toward Nikhael. He ignored Liraine's screaming, ignored her struggling as Severin's men held her back. Isolde's hands shook. Her finger hovered near the trigger. She couldn't breathe.
"Feel like you've been here before?" Severin whispered behind her.
"A little déjà vu, maybe? Only this time, it's not Nikhael pointing the gun at you. You're the one holding the weapon. Pointed right at him." His voice scraped along her spine like a razor.
Of course, she remembered that day, the day she was tied up, forced to watch as Nikhael shot two traitors in the head right in front of her. And now, the tables had turned.
Severin was a fucking monster. A twisted mastermind. In a blink, he could flip loyalty into betrayal, love into ammunition, turn even his enemies into pieces on a goddamn chessboard, played by his rules.
"Use what I taught you, Isolde," he breathed. "Straighten your body. Extend your arm. Aim for his head. Pull the fucking trigger."
Isolde clenched her jaw, shut her eyes, and finally pulled the trigger. The shot rang out like thunder in the underground chamber. The bullet didn't hit Nikhael's head. It hit his arm.
And behind her, she could feel Severin's smug fucking grin stretch wider. She had failed, and now she'd wear his name carved into her skin like a curse.
Isolde's first shot had missed. The room reacted instantly with whispers, shifting feet, and thinly veiled disappointment.
Some sighed in frustration. They wanted Nikhael deadSeverin's— shadow, his right hand. With Nikhael gone, the second-in-command spot would finally be up for grabs, and the bloodbath to claim it would be brutal.
Others let out quiet breaths of relief. Isolde didn't need to look. She knew damn well Liraine was the only one in the room, and she was actually glad she had missed.
Meanwhile, Isolde was spiraling panic, flooding her chest, her heart thundering. She knew. She knew Severin was smiling behind her. He had expected her to fail, and she did.
Her hand trembled violently. This wasn't just another shooting practice with cardboard cutouts.
This was a human being. This was Nikhael.
"Again," Severin's voice rasped behind her, cold and calm. "There are still three bullets left."
Isolde held her breath. Once more, she shut her eyes and aimed at Nikhael. This time, she didn't fire just one bullet. She pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession. She just wanted it to be over. Fast.
When she opened her eyes, Nikhael was soaked in blood. The bullets had hit him in the ear, the thigh, and the stomach. He was trembling, his breaths coming in short, pained gasps as blood pooled beneath him, dark, thick, and spreading fast across the floor. He was dying.
Too many wounds.
Too much blood.
His skin had turned pale from the blood loss. Isolde hadn't hit his head or left chest like Severin demanded. Still, if no one did anything, Nikhael would die anyway.
Liraine, still restrained by Severin's men, broke free in a wild burst of desperation. She bit and kicked at them until Severin finally gave a subtle nod the silent order to let her go. Only then did they release her.
She rushed to Nikhael's side, dropping to her knees. Her shaking hands cupped his bloodied face.
"I'm sorry... Please don't die, Nickie..." Liraine sobbed, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Nikhael's eyelids drooped. He struggled to keep them open so he could look at her face, the only thing still anchoring him to life.
The blood on the floor soaked into Liraine's knees as she knelt before him, and Isolde could barely stomach the sound of her cries.
She turned to Severin only to find him already watching her.
"Please," she begged. "Save Nikhael. He's taken his punishment, just like you wanted. Please... save him the same way you saved me."
Severin tilted his head slightly. "And what the fuck do I gain from that?"
"He's your right hand. He's done every filthy thing you've ever ordered him to do. Isn't that enough?"
"He made a mistake," Severin replied coldly. "There are plenty of others ready to take his place. People who are more loyal. More competent."
He crossed his arms, casually dismissive, completely uninterested in the broken scene playing out behind Isolde.
To him, watching the rage and desperation on her face was far more entertaining than watching Liraine sob or Nikhael bleed out.
…