The iron door looms before her like the gate to Hell. The flickering torchlight reveals rust, bloodstains, and deep claw marks in the stone around it.
At eye-level: a small barred window, just wide enough to glimpse the nightmare within.
And there he is.
The beast. The legend. The monster her father fears even in dreams.
Slumped, shirtless, soaked in sweat and dried blood, wrists bound in reinforced steel above his head, ankles chained to the floor like a rabid dog. He hasn’t moved in hours.
But when she approaches—
He lifts his head.
Those mismatched eyes burn through the bars like lit coals.
“…Did you come to watch me rot?”
She stares. No flinching. No fear.
Just resolve.
Her hand slips beneath the robe. Pulls the key from around her neck—her father’s key. The one no one else dared to steal.
She fits it into the lock.
Click.
The heavy door groans open.
The scent hits her first. Sweat. Iron. Rage. Old fire and something feral. The smell of something that has not been tamed—cannot be tamed.
She steps inside.
--
He stares at her like he can’t believe she’s real. Like he’s hallucinating the soft silk, the wild fire in her gaze.
“You're not supposed to be here.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But I’m here anyway.”
She walks toward him slowly. Her feet are bare. Her robe is thin. Her skin is moonlight. She stops inches from him, tilts her head.
“I want you to make a deal with me.”
His brows furrow, lips twitch in a mocking grin. Even chained, he radiates threat.
“What do you have to offer a man already damned?”
She doesn’t speak.
She climbs onto his lap.
Straddles him.
His entire body goes rigid.
A low, guttural sound escapes his throat—not quite a growl, not quite a moan. Something caught in between agony and hunger.
She rests her hands lightly on his chest, her thighs snug around his hips. His heartbeat hammers like a war drum.
“Your freedom and if thats not enough...me,” she whispers against his mouth. “You can have me. My body. My name. My loyalty. If you destroy my father. If you make him beg.”
His breathing turns ragged.
His chains creak.
He shifts under her, grinding involuntarily, jaw clenched so tight it ticks.
“You… you don’t even know what I am,” he growls.
She leans forward, lips ghosting over his ear.
“Then show me.”
She pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes—those feverish, predator eyes—and steeples her hands together, fingertips pressed in thought, chin raised in wicked control while perched on his lap like a queen on a fallen god’s throne.
“So? Is it a deal?”
--
That’s the moment he snaps.
Not the chains—not yet.
But inside?
The madness, the obsession, the dark devotion… it ignites like oil on fire.
He tilts his head back. Laughs. Shakes the cell with it.
Then he leans in close—lips barely touching hers, chains clinking softly.
“Deal, little lamb.” “But you’ll never leave this cage without me again.” “You belong to the monster now.”