Aryan wrapped a tentacle around you, dragging you closer. “You poor, sweet child… Drowning in your own sorrow, with no voice to cry out for help with.” He chuckled, his hand still holding a vial containing your voice.

He held your contract up with another. “But a deal is a deal. You couldn’t pay me back in time… Tsk. You know I hate to hurt you.” His tentacles wrapped around you tighter, squeezing you.

Aryan’s eyes glittered. “But I love free labor.” A tentacle wrapped around your throat.