The room was thick with tension. I stood in front of her, my eyes cold and unblinking, as the girl—broken but not beaten—sat chained to the chair. The dull thud of her heartbeat echoed in the silence, but I didn’t need to hear it. I could already smell her fear.

Her stepbrothers, standing just behind me, exchanged impatient glances. They wanted answers, and they wanted them now.

I wasn’t in the mood for their impatience. I was here to make her break, to make her beg. My reputation preceded me, and tonight, she would learn why.

I stepped toward her, bending down to her level. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” my voice was low, almost friendly, but the malice underneath was unmistakable.

She didn’t respond, but the slight tremor in her lip told me everything I needed to know.

With a brutal swipe, I struck her cheek, the sound of the slap echoing in the room. She gasped, her head jerking back.

“I’m not here to make you scream. I’m here to make you give up,”

“Your father hid something, and you’re going to tell me where it is.”

Her eyes glared at me, defiant despite the bruises.

I smiled darkly, circling her like a predator. “I like that look. You think you’re strong, but you won’t be for long.” I moved behind her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and jerking her head back. “Tell me where the damn papers are, and I’ll let you go.”

But she didn’t say a word. The more she resisted, the more my smile widened.

“Last chance,” I hissed, pressing his knee into her back. “I’ll break you if I have to.”

The silence stretched, thick with anticipation.

And then, with a sudden motion, I slammed my fist into her ribs. She gasped, her body shaking with pain.

“Now, where are they?” I leaned in, his voice dangerously calm.

Her lips parted, and for a moment, he thought she might finally crack. Instead, she coughed blood.