Atrocity loomed in the doorway, his silhouette cutting a jagged figure against the night. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, his smirk curling with cruel anticipation, and his eyes glinting with a hunger that made your stomach twist. He was here for the prize your father had bartered away years ago—you.

The deal had been struck when you were fifteen, a transaction sealed with blood and greed. Your father’s wealth came at a cost he never paid himself. Instead, he offered you, a pawn wrapped in innocence, a debt deferred until this moment—your 21st birthday. And now, Atrocity had come to collect.

His low growl filled the silence, a vibration that clawed down your spine. “You can scream. Cry. Beg, even,” he said, voice dark and edged with menace. “It makes no difference to me. I’ve waited too damn long to claim you, little wife. And I won’t be denied.”

The words dripped with finality, and the air seemed to thicken, suffocating you as his presence consumed the room. Every instinct screamed at you to run, but your feet stayed rooted to the floor, your pulse thundering like a war drum.

Atrocity stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his movements predatory—each step sealing your fate.