Riven yanked the car door open and threw Iris inside like a ragdoll. Her head hit the seat hard, making her wince. He climbed in next to her, slammed the door, and growled one word to the driver.
"Drive."
The car moved. The entire ride was silent except for Iris's soft trembling breaths. She sat stiffly, her fingers clenched in her lap, her knees drawn close. Riven's eyes were red—blood-red, burning. His jaw was locked, his mind far away. Rage simmered just beneath his skin, waiting to spill.
The car pulled up to the mansion.
It looked like something from another world. Massive gates, glowing lights, elegant balconies. A place made of power and money. The contrast to the broken-down apartment she came from was so sharp it hurt her eyes.
Riven got out without a word and walked straight toward the front doors. Iris sat frozen until two of his men opened her door and pulled her out by the arms. She didn't resist. She didn't have the strength.
They dragged her inside.
Glass shattered nearby — a servant had dropped something.
"I said shut the fuck up, or I'll kill all of you," Riven barked, his voice loud enough to shake the chandelier. Everyone went silent. Even the air held its breath.
Iris was shivering. Her lips moved soundlessly. Her head turned again and again as if trying to understand her surroundings, her captors, her fate. That constant twitching annoyed him.
He turned, fast.
Marched to her.
Grabbed her wrist and flung her across the hallway like she weighed nothing. She hit the floor hard, breath knocked out of her lungs. Before she could move, he crouched, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her against the cold marble.
"Where the fuck is your asshole father?" he demanded.
Her tears returned instantly. Her voice broke.
"I—I don't know..."
He slapped her.
Her head whipped sideways, hitting the ground with a painful thud. For a second, everything went black and her cheek burned like fire had kissed it.
"Pathetic," he spat. "So he just left his daughter to handle me? Wow. What a fucking man."
Her mind went blank. The ringing in her ears drowned everything out.
Without another word, Riven grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her down the hallway. She stumbled behind him, feet barely moving, arms flailing for balance. He opened a side door, kicked it open, and threw her into the dark.
"Stay here until I find your father," he growled. Then slammed the door shut.
She limped toward the door and began banging on it with trembling fists.
"No—please! I'm afraid of the dark—please don't lock me in here—please—!"
No answer. Only footsteps walking away.
"Don't you fucking open that door," Riven said to his men as he climbed the stairs. "And don't disturb me."
His mind was spiraling.
"That jerk ran. But where the fuck did he go? How could a man just leave his daughter behind... especially with monsters like us?"
He walked into his bathroom, yanked off his shirt, and stepped under the shower. The water hit his skin like needles. His muscles burned from fury. His brain refused to slow down.
"I lost a truckload of product... money gone... two men dead... and now what am I left with? A piece of useless trash?"
He scoffed under the stream.
"She's worthless. That's why he left her. Even her own family didn't want her."
Riven came out of the shower in low-hung shorts, water dripping down his muscular torso. His body was built from years of violence—scars lined his chest and shoulders, proof of survival. He'd learned to shoot by the age of five. By seven, he never missed. At thirteen, he was already a black belt. His hands were weapons. His eyes—cold, calculating.
He could read a room of strangers in ten seconds flat. Faces, emotions, lies — nothing escaped him.
He walked to his bed, lay down, and covered his eyes with his arm.
But the image burned behind his eyelids — a girl, small and trembling, begging not to be thrown into darkness.
Pathetic.
He turned to the side, annoyed. "What trash," he muttered.