Summer's Sparks

💋🔞 BENEATH HIS GAZE 💖💓
{......Becoming•His•Last•Sanity......}
____________

Copyright © 2025 by summer Sparks..★.

All rights reserved.

($•SIGNED•$)
_______________
CHAPTER 31~32.

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HAVE A GREAT DAY.

★

Orion stood tall and unbothered at the foot of the clinic bed, his presence dominating the small, sterile room.

Zaza, the emerald-eyed python, was coiled around his waist like a living belt, her head resting calmly on his right shoulder, tongue flicking the air with lazy confidence.

The nurse kept her distance, pressed against the far end wall, her eyes wide with fear as she watched the snake and the man—both equally intimidating.

On the bed lay Coraline, still as a doll, her skin pale and lips parted.

She looked fragile, almost breakable, but Orion’s gaze was cold and unmoved.

He seemed to know fainting wouldn’t save her from him; if anything, it made her more vulnerable.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached out and cupped her chin in his thick, calloused hand, his grip unyielding.

He tilted her face up, studying her features with a dark, unreadable expression.

Then, without hesitation, he pried her lips open, exposing her teeth and the soft pink of her tongue.

Her tongue lolled out, limp, and he grinned—a twisted, dark smile that never reached his eyes.

He slid two thick fingers into her mouth, pushing them gently but firmly down her throat, as if testing her reaction or searching for something only he could understand.

The nurse, trembling but determined, finally found her voice and rushed forward, stopping just two feet away.

“Sir, please remove your fingers from her mouth,” she pleaded, voice shaking.

“She’s still breathing, but barely! It’s a panic attack—dangerous for a heart patient!”

Orion ignored her, his attention fixed on Coraline, almost fascinated by the way her saliva coated his fingers.

The nurse, desperate and angry, grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand away.

He turned to her slowly, raising an eyebrow, his expression closed and almost amused.

Zaza, sensing the tension, lifted her head and hissed, the sound sharp and menacing.

The nurse gasped, her body going rigid with terror.

She lost control, urine spreading across the floor as she stared at the snake.

Orion didn’t flinch, his face unchanged, as if this was all routine.

Suddenly, the door burst open and the doctor stormed in, taking in the chaos with a look of utter disbelief.

“What in the name of Medusa is going on here? Nurse Kat, are you crazy?” he barked.

The nurse snapped out of her trance, but couldn’t tear her gaze from Zaza, who stared back with cold reptilian eyes.

It looks like the snake will attack any moment from now..!

“Get out!” the doctor shouted, and the nurse fled the room, tears streaming down her face.

Turning to Orion, the doctor tried to compose himself.

“Is she dead? Let me know so I can meet her in hell for the classes!” Orion said, his tone flat and almost bored.

The doctor’s mouth dropped open in shock, blinking rapidly, and trying to process the scene.

“Are you a family member?” he finally managed, his voice shaking.

“I don’t want to be,” Orion replied, not bothering to spare him a look.

“Can I see her family members, her condition is very serious?” the doctor asked, voice uncertain.

“That’s not needed. When is she waking up?” Orion’s voice was sharp, and even Zaza seemed to glare up at the doctor.

“She’ll wa.ke up soo.n,” the doctor stammered, backing away.

He glanced at Zaza one last time, then practically ran from the room, leaving Orion and his snake alone with the unconscious girl.

Who wouldn't run, even if the unconscious girl has the strength she'd run as well.

The room fell silent except for the faint hiss of Zaza’s tongue and the shallow, ragged breaths from the bed.

Orion stood watch, unmoved and unbothered, waiting for Coraline to wake—and for the next act to begin.

"You're teaching me today shortie. Either you like it or not!" He muttered, running his fingers on Zaza's scale.

*

Jasmine and Indigo stood in the parking lot, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the scattered cars.

Lylah had just rushed off to the restroom, she had mistakenly splattered juice across her shirt, leaving the two girls alone and restless.

Jasmine kept tapping her phone, trying to call Coraline for the tenth time, but every call went unanswered—her frustration growing with each ring.

They were all still in shock, replaying the moment when Orion brotherfuçking Salvador had picked Coraline up in the hallway like she weighed nothing.

The whole school had seen it, and now Coraline wasn’t answering her phone.

She had a lot of explaining to do when she finally showed up, it's totally the talk in classes...

Something that just happened a moment ago.

Indigo’s eyes wandered restlessly over the parking lot, searching for any sign of their missing friend.
Or if looking around would help.

That’s when she saw him—Oscar.

He had his arm slung around a skinny, broomstick-blonde girl as they strolled toward the field.

She told herself she shouldn't care, that he could do whatever he wanted, but her chest tightened with something sharp and ugly.

That's not necessary right, he's a fuçk boy.

A freaking Fuçking bastard.

Was he really going to hook up with that little girl right there on the field? She shouldn’t care, but she couldn’t help it.

The girl looks so naive and innocent —Oscar is just going to use her and toss her aside.

Before she knew it, her feet were moving.

He shouldn't do that to such an innocent kid, she's actually a junior.

One moment she was standing still, the next she was striding across the lot, then breaking into a run, her heart pounding with every step.

He's an animal, what a freaking Fuçking beast.

“What an immature imbecile,” she muttered under her breath, but she couldn’t stop herself.

She burst into the wide, empty field, breathless, but saw no sign of Oscar or the blonde.

The field stretched out before her, empty and silent except for the distant buzz of students.

Indigo walked farther, scanning every corner, refusing to give up.

Suddenly, a deep, thick voice echoed behind her, stopping her in her tracks.

“I won’t fuçk anyone else until I fuçk you, I’m sure as s**t I will!” The words sent a sudden jolt through her entire body.

She slowly turned around, and there he was—Oscar, standing in the middle of the field, his vicious smirk daring her to run or fight.

He looked every inch of the arrogant prince, confidence radiating off him in waves.

Indigo’s instincts immediately starts screaming at her to leave, too put space within her and this chaos.

She turned toward the exit, trying to walk away with as much dignity as she could muster.

But Oscar was faster—he darted forward and caught her wrist.

Indigo reacted instantly, knocking his hand away like it burned, shooting him a glare that could melt steel.

Oscar raised his hands in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Indigo turned her back on him and stormed off, hips swaying defiantly.

Oscar watched her go, his voice low and full of hunger.

“You’d offer yourself like a sacrifice, sweetheart. And I’d eat you raw with no hesitation.”

Indigo didn’t look back, but she could feel his gaze burning into her as she left the field, her pulse racing, her mind a storm of anger and something dangerously close to desire..or something more.

*

Coraline’s world spun as she twisted restlessly on the stiff clinic bed, the scratchy sheets tangled around her legs.

Her body ached, her mind foggy, but something cold and heavy pressed against her side, jolting her senses awake.

She turned, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes fluttered open—only to land on thick, gleaming coils of snake skin, the pattern unmistakable and horrifying.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she realized Zaza, Orion’s monstrous python, was sprawled right beside her on the bed, scales glinting in the harsh clinic light.

For a split second, Coraline froze, every muscle locked in terror, afraid to even breathe.

The snake’s emerald eyes flickered, unblinking, watching her with a chilling calm.

A scream clawed at her throat, but she swallowed it, panic fueling her next move.

With a trembling hand, she slowly lifted her head, careful not to make any sudden movements.

But her body had other plans—adrenaline surged and, before she could think, she launched herself off the bed, landing hard on her feet.

She stumbled, then bolted for the door, her heart pounding so loud it drowned out every other sound.

She didn’t dare look back.

Not once.

She slammed the door behind her with a bang that echoed down the empty hallway, not caring who heard.

Barefoot and wild-eyed, Coraline sprinted through the clinic corridors, weaving past startled nurses and patients, her only thought to get as far away from that freaking room—and that gigantic snake—as soon possible.

The sunlight outside hit her like a slap, hot and blinding, but she didn’t stop.

Her phone, her bag, everything she owned was forgotten—nothing mattered except escape.

She ran and ran, short legs pumping, lungs burning, until she spotted a battered yellow taxi idling at the curb.

Without hesitation, she flung herself into the back seat, gasping out,

“please Just drive!”

The driver barely had time to glance at her before he hit the accelerator, the taxi lurching into traffic and speeding away, leaving the clinic—and Zaza—far far behind.

Coraline pressed her forehead to the window, breathless and shaking, the world blurring past as she finally let herself believe she was safe.

For now.

Fuçk that stupid fuçker, darn him.

*

SOMEWHERE IN RUSSIA__4PM*

A tall woman emerged from the back seat of a sleek, black sedan, the car’s engine purring before fading into silence.

She was a striking figure, dressed head-to-toe in black: tailored trousers, boots polished to a mirror shine, and a heavy ash-grey coat dr***d over her shoulders like a cloak.

A smooth, featureless mask concealed her face, reflecting the pale Russian sky, making her unreadable—a living shadow.

She moved with a chilling grace, her every step measured, as if the filthy slush and cracked pavement could not dare stain her.

Her gloved hands—white as snow—were folded neatly in front of her, fingers interlaced, betraying not a hint of nerves.

The wind whipped at the edges of her coat, but she never flinched, eyes fixed on the decrepit house ahead.

The house itself was a relic of another era, sagging and worn, its paint peeling in long strips, windows clouded with grime.

The roof sagged, and the porch creaked under the weight of secrets.

It was ugly, forgotten, and yet she walked toward it with the certainty of someone who belonged.

She paused at the door, the air thick with the scent of rot and old memories.

With a gloved knuckle, she knocked—three sharp, deliberate raps that echoed through the silence.

The door creaked open almost instantly, as if someone had been waiting on the other side.

Mr Bentley’s face appeared in the gap, his eyes wary, darting over her mask and coat.

Without a word, he stepped aside, granting her passage.

She glided inside, her coat brushing the doorframe, and Bentley closed the door behind her with a heavy, final thud.

*

CORALINE'S ROOM __9PM*

The room buzzed with low chatter and the soft rustle of blankets as the girls settled in for their Friday night ritual.

Jasmine, Indigo, Lylah, and River were sprawled across Coraline’s bed, each in their favorite nighties, the air thick with anticipation and a hint of vanilla-scented candle.

Lylah lay flat on her stomach, a bag of chips clutched in her hands, crunching loudly with zero shame, crumbs scattering across the sheets.

Jasmine sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, thumbs flying across her phone screen, eyes narrowed in focus as she texted furiously—probably live-blogging the drama to her secret group chat.

Indigo perched at the edge like a silent ghost, knees hugged to her chest, her gaze fixed on the door, lost in thought or maybe just waiting for the storm to break.

River, meanwhile, looked like she was about to dive straight into her phone, her glare so intense it was a miracle the screen hadn’t cracked under the pressure.

The bathroom door was shut, steam curling from beneath it.

Coraline had borrowed River’s phone earlier to call everyone, her voice was shaky but determined.

It was Friday, and tonight was hers—her sleepover, her rules.

But the tension in the room was thick, everyone desperate for answers about what had happened with her and Orion, the dark King of Royal Elite High.

Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open. All heads snapped up as Coraline stepped out, wrapped in a towel, her hair damp and wild.

“Are you ready to talk?” River was the first to speak, her tone sharp and impatient.

The rest quickly turned in unison, eyes wide and expectant.

Coraline rolled her eyes, tossing her towel aside as she headed for her closet.

“Y’all acting like I committed a crime. Gimme a sec, inspectors,” she muttered, grabbing her favorite Mickey Mouse nightgown and slipping it on with practiced ease.

She padded over to the dresser, grabbed the hair dryer, and ran it through her hair, the noise filling the silence for a moment.

When she was finally dry, she flopped onto the bed beside Lylah, sending a cascade of chips flying.

The girls shifted, forming a loose circle around her, faces glowing with curiosity and a little bit of worry.

All eyes were on Coraline now, the room holding its breath, waiting for her to spill every last detail of the wildest day of her life.

"For the love of fuçk, it's nothing serious. That idiot is just too dumb for his age and the coach asked_ no, ordered me to tutor him." She said as they're still looking at her expecting more.

There's no more, apart from the planning on how to kill that Buffalo and his stupid pet.

So? You are his teacher? River asked, her lips Hooked.

She seems to be holding back laughter.

"I dunno yet, I'm not teaching that idiot. He's too dumb to learn!" She said as she stood.

Alright young ladies, let's head to the living room. We'd be watching, kpop demon Slayers! She said as she matched a pillow and blanket.

The girls gathered their things for the night and together they all walked out of the room.

*

A familiar feminine figure lay motionless on the hospital bed, swallowed by the sterile white sheets and the loose, shapeless gown that did nothing to protect her dignity.

Purple bruises and angry red welts marked her skin, some hidden beneath fresh bandages, others raw and exposed—a painful, permanent stain she could never scrub away.

Her face, once bright, was swollen and puffy, her eyes glassy with unshed tears as she stared blankly at the ceiling, lost in a nightmare that refused to end.

A whole fuçking week of terror haunted her, every second replaying in her mind with sickening clarity.

A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the screaming, the begging, the painful pleading—her own voice echoing in her ears, powerless and utterly broken.

'It was all that stupid bitçhe's fault,' she thought bitterly, her jaw clenching as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

She wanted to believe it was over, that the worst had passed, but deep down, she knew this was only the beginning.

This wasn’t about fun anymore.

This was about vengeance.

She would destroy the girl who started it all, make her life a living nightmare—hell on earth.

The hospital room door creaked open, slicing through the silence.

A man entered, tall and imposing, dressed in a sharp black suit that made him look even colder.

He was about forty-five, his hair dusted with grey, his face drawn and tired.

“Agatha,” he called softly, stepping up to the foot of her bed, his eyes glistening with tears he tried to hide.

He reached out, gently touching her foot, but she recoiled instantly, yanking her leg away as she trembled all over.

He was her father, but she hated him—hated everything he stood for, hated the way he looked at her now as if he actually cared.

“I already prepared your ticket,” he said, voice tight.

“I’ll book a flight tomorrow morning. You’ll leave by evening for Paris. It’s for the best. The election is around the corner. I don’t want this nonsense to come out in the open.”

Agatha scoffed, a bitter, malicious sound. She forced herself upright, every muscle screaming in protest, but she needed him to see her rage.

“Election, huh?” she snarled, biting down on her lip until it bled.

“So that’s what matters most! You’re an evil man!” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on, her anger burning through the pain.

“I was r***d, father! R***d by not one, but four men. For one whole week! And you don’t have anything to say about that? You won’t find those bastards and teach them a lesson? You don’t care?”

She nearly threw herself off the bed, tears streaming down her face, her fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms.

“GET OUT!” she hissed, voice trembling with fury.

“Get the fuçk out of here and don’t let the fuçking door hit you, you stupid old fool.”

Her father just sighed, looking smaller than she’d ever seen him, and turned away, leaving without another word.

The door clicked shut, and the silence, heavier than before.

Agatha’s body shook as she slid off the bed, rage and grief twisting inside her.

She Swiftly kicked the metal cupboard beside her, sending it crashing to the floor, and screamed—a raw, broken sound that filled the room, her tears falling harder, her pain and fury echoing off the sterile walls.

This was her breaking point, and she knew she would never be the same again.

*

The living area glowed softly in the dim light, the TV casting flickering shadows over the girls as they snuggled into their couches.

Jasmine and Lylah were wrapped under a single blanket, heads close together, sharing quiet giggles and popcorn.

Indigo and River lounged on the other couch, Indigo’s feet tucked beneath her as she watched the movie with a rare, relaxed smile.

Coraline sprawled beside Aunt Lillian on the third couch, the older woman finally joining them after a long day, her presence bringing a sense of calm.

Fiona, as usual, kept her distance, perched at the dining table with her phone and a plate of snacks, pretending not to care but glancing over every now and then.

The house was peaceful, laughter and movie dialogue filling the air—until the doorbell shattered the calm, ringing so loud it made everyone flinch.

Fiona stood up, but Aunt Lillian’s voice cut through the room, sharp and urgent.

“No, Fiona. I’ll get it.” Aunt Lillian said, getting up.

Lillian moved to the door, peering through the peephole—and her face drained of color, her whole body going rigid with fear.

She spun around, rushing back to the girls, her voice low and trembling.

“Get up! Now! Upstairs, quickly!”

Panic laced every word as she started shoving them toward the stairs.

“What’s going on, Mom? You’re scaring us!” River whispered, but Lillian ignored her, grabbing Fiona and pushing everyone into hiding—behind curtains, under tables, anywhere she could fit them.

She killed the lights, plunging the room into darkness, her breath coming in shaky bursts.

Aunt Lillian took a deep breath, steeled herself, and slowly opened the door.

Instantly, she was shoved inside, a tight slap cracking across her face blinding her immediately.

A tall woman in an ash-grey coat and a cold, featureless mask strode in, flanked by bodyguards.

“Keeping me outside is not advisable, Lillian,” the woman purred, her voice icy.

Another slap scattered on Aunt Lillian's face, sending her crashing to the ground, tears streaming down her face.

“That’s for your stupidity. You think you can hide from me, didn't ya?”

The masked woman’s eyes swept the room.

“Where’s my money, Lillian? Money is life. Where is mine?”

Her bodyguards began tearing apart the living area, tossing cushions, breaking vases, searching for anything of value.

Lillian crawled to her knees, sobbing.

“I don’t have it yet, please! I’m working on it!” she pleaded more tears streaming down her eyes.

The woman leaned in, her gloved hand closing around Lillian’s throat.

“You’ve been working on it for far too long. I need a mortgage.” the woman said, Her grip tightened, then she shoved Lillian back, standing tall and menacing.

From their hiding spot, Fiona snickered, a sly grin spreading across her lips.

The woman sure sounds vicious, if she catches a glimpse of this thing, she might take her away forever.

With those thoughts in mind, she wrapped her arm around Coraline’s neck and, before Coraline could react, shoved her out into the open.

The masked woman’s head snapped toward the movement, but before she could act, River bolted from her own hiding spot, racing to her mother’s side.

The tall woman caught River by the neck, tossing her like a ragdoll to one of her guards.

Aunt Lillian screamed, scrambling to reach her daughter, but another brutal slap sent her sprawling to the ground.

“I’ll return, this collateral is not enough, the black market would accept her” the masked woman spat, striding out as her guards dragged River with them.

MOM!! River screamed with so much fear, her eyes widened with tears and horrified.

Aunt Lillian’s screams echoed through the night as she bolted after them, before she could get to them they had already gotten into their cars and sped away, River’s terrified face pressed against the window until it disappeared into the darkness.

Lillian stumbled back before running back inside the house, frantic and wild-eyed.

The girls emerged from hiding, trembling in shock.

Without warning, Lillian stormed over to Fiona and slapped her hard on the face, so hard blood splattered from her mouth.

“Are you stupid? How could you do that? How could you?” she screamed, raining more slap after slap on Fiona, her rage and grief pouring out.

She saw how she pushed Coraline out, she caused this.

The girls watched in horror, frozen, still trembling—except Jasmine, who stood apart, her eyes narrowed, already piecing together what came next.

✰✰.

༆ 𝑻𝑩𝑪 ༆

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💋🔞 BENEATH HIS GAZE 💖💓
{......Becoming•His•Last•Sanity......}
____________

Copyright © 2025 by summer Sparks..★.

All rights reserved.

($•SIGNED•$)
_______________
CHAPTER 33~34.

If you're seeing this then you're an active member and I appreciate it, well, anyways. This chapter would be taken down after 10 hours note that. I'm doing something crazy.

Instead of blocking, not everyone would understand the story nomore.

★

"That did not just happen! She just took River away!" Indigo blurted eye popped, everyone's eyes were still widened in pure shock and horror.

"We need to call the cops, or something, anything. This is freaking not funny!" Coraline said, more tears streaming down her eyes.

"No cops! Nobody hears about this." Aunt Lillian said as everyone turned towards her.

"But auntie Lillian__"

"No buts, jasmine." Auntie Lillian said, her hand holding Fiona's neck roughly.

"None of you mention this to anyone, it's stays here and everything is fine. Nobody can defeat madam GG, absolutely nobody."

"And you! You have serious things to do, if anything happens to my daughter. I'll kill you!" Aunt Lillian said, in all seriousness.

Her eyes hardened with rage, she turned around and stormed up the stairs while Coraline's knees buckled and she fell to the ground.

This should not be happening, it's not fair.

Fiona rushed towards her and roughly pulled her up.

"This is all your fault, you're so__" she was still saying when Cora swirl around and swiftly landed a flash superman slap across her face.

So hard and loud it knocked her face sideways, she turned back towards Coraline, her chest raising and falling in so much rage but indigo pulled Coraline to her back and with the rest of the girls, they shielded her.

"Trust me, from this night onwards I count you as one of her enemies, and all her enemies are also mine. Watch your back, bitch." Indigo growled, pointing straight at her, Fiona's eyes darkened.

"This is not over, also watch your backs. Stupid bi***es" she spat, her eyes locked with Coraline before turning away and stormed out of the house.

"That girl is truly demonic!" Lylah whispered.

"How do we find River, we have to find her!" Coraline said as she turned towards the girls.

"Auntie Lillian said no involvement of the police, how do we find her, this is an in-built kidnapping." Indigo said.

"Don't worry! I'm sure as fuçk we'd find her!" Jasmine Muttered, everyone's eyes are still white with shock.

It's not funny, River actually sacrificed herself for Coraline just a while ago.

Nobody knows what she's passing through at this moment.

*
THAT SAME NIGHT...*
**THE ABYSS BELOW —1AM.

The air was thick—too thick to breathe without feeling it claw its way into your lungs. Cold and bitter, it reeked of rot, rust, and something far worse.

Every inch of the underground corridor was bathed in a greyish gloom, lit only by faint red bulbs that flickered against mildewed stone walls, as if even light was too afraid to stay still here.

Squelch. Squelch.

His Footsteps echoed down the hallway—slow, deliberate, impossibly calm.

Mr. Merrick Alvarado walked steadily over cracked concrete floors smeared with the stains of forgotten blood.

Dried up and oozing terribly.

Shoes polished to mirror blackness barely made a sound except when stepping into something soft.

Something that had once breathed.

His long trench coat—charcoal leather, lined with obsidian suede—brushed rhythmically against his legs, the hem dragging just enough to wipe the floor like a taunt.

There was no rush in his stride.

No need for caution.

Every stone, every scream, every shadow in this place belonged to *him*.

From behind the thick, metal doors lining the hallway, the sounds came.

Wails. Screams. Pleas.

Whispers that sounded like curses muffled by despair.

Each room sealed away a madness of its own.

Sometimes hollow thuds rang out—someone kicking.

Fists pounding against walls too thick to break.

Chains clinked.

Someone sobbed out a name they’d clearly forgotten how to spell.

Somewhere far off, a rhythmic thump echoed like a heartbeat out of sync.

The soundtrack of monsters.

And Merrick? He smiled.

Not wide. Not with glee.

It was a tick at the corners of his mouth, a dark pull, cold as the metal scratch of a blade against a throat.

His eyes, the color of burned copper, were unreadable.

They scanned nothing in particular and everything at once.

He didn’t look like a monster.

In fact, he resembled the kind of man you’d sit beside on an airplane—nearly dressed, posture elegant, and still like the eye of a storm.

But this place pulsed with his will.

The place is actually a huge underground hostel, filled with fifty thousand rooms, each room contains different types of naked girls of every kind of age.

Black, white, ebony, China, different types.

Even older women, the air around stinks of s*x, blood and pure brutality.

He passed door after door in silence—door 127. Door 306. Door 8749.

They went on, endless yet numbered as if someone once tried to count them all.

As he passed, the tortured screams and wailing coming from each room, made his smiles deepened More.

More than fifty thousand souls, each locked behind a different memory of hell, and Merrick strolled past like he was in a museum of his own design.

Finally, he stopped.

The door before him hissed slightly, as if even it knew who stood there.

Blood had dried across the handle, now tacky against the smooth steel of his gloves.

Without a word, Merrick reached for it and twisted calmly.

The hinges groaned, protesting quietly, and the grip of cold darkness inside reached out like a hand.

He stepped inside.

To face *her*

Immediately he got inside, a young girl was there, about age 19 or 18.

She's naked, with huge brutal purple lines all over her body, she's thin to the bones and looks almost dead.

Her hair looks dirty, tangled and rough, eyes empty and full of pure hatred.

Immediately he entered she tremblingly gathered herself from the floor and rushed towards a corner.

The room is a whole room without a window only a very tiny door, in which he stood in front of.

The room stinks horribly, with blood, and all the torture she has gone through.

He slowly shut the tiny door behind him and smiled evilly,

"Hello Korra! It's Daddy!" He said as he moved fully towards the bed, she moved to the other side and ran towards the door.

She tried opening it, she tried and tried more with small sobs coming from her.

Knowing she couldn't open the door, she slowly turned towards him, her back pressed massively to the door as her chest pounded madly.

"I won't hurt you, darling" he said with a smile as he took two steps closer.

She pressed deeper into the door and shut her eyes, trembling all over.

"You want to send another beautiful video to your big brother, don't you?" He asked, closing in on her.

He ran his forefinger from her rib up to her left breast then pinched her ni***es painfully, a soft hissed of discomfort tore out of her trembling lips but still she didn't open her eyes.

His eyes hardened as he shoved a quick slap across her face, so hard another teeth flew out of her mouth.

She screamed loudly as he roughly pulled her away from the bed and tossed on the bed, she crawled to the far end trembling, crying Bitterly.

He slowly peeled off his coat and do away with the rest of his clothes and pulled out a camera as well.

He set the camera and walked towards her, she tried fighting but didn't notice when he shoved an injection into her neck which made her go numb and fell powerlessly to the bed.

THEN THE TORTURE BEGINS, like always.

*

ROYAL ELITE HIGH —
MONDAY MORNING 8AM*

The gates of Royal Elite High groaned open like the jaws of a silent beast, swallowing its students one by one.

Laughter filled the air, uniforms marched down polished halls, and everything—on the surface—seemed exactly the same.

But not for *them*.

Jasmine walked in first, her hoodie pulled up just enough to shadow her face, shoulders stiff with tension.

Her phone stayed tucked in her blazer pocket, warm against her ribs—inside it, a video that burned like truth, encrypted and backed up twice, sent to someone who doesn’t ask questions but knows how to destroy reputations.

Coraline followed closely behind, lips pressed into a thin line, her fists tight at her sides.

No jokes today.

No dramatic flips of her lilac hair.

Just silence and a stare that made people look away.

Lylah trailed after her, her eyes rimmed red from tears she hadn’t let fall in front of anyone.

Her usually perfect bun was off-center, like she didn’t care how she looked for once.

It felt wrong being at school, wrong being anywhere River wasn’t.

Yesterday completed two nights after River's missing, nobody knows anything and Aunt Lillian is not speaking.

Indigo brought up the rear, black heels tapping the floor like gunfire.

Her eyeliner was sharp, aggressive, but her expression unreadable.

She scanned every face, like she was hunting. No one dared meet her eye.

And River’s seat? Empty.

Blatantly, painfully empty.

Every Monday is students morning din, and sitting at the table felt totally suffocating without River.

Even the teacher paused when she glanced at the chair—awkward, seconds too long—before clearing her throat and beginning class like nothing was wrong.

But the girls felt everything.

They didn’t speak much during breaks, fuçk, they're totally traumatized.

What if something is actually happening to the poor girl right now.

Just quick glances, unfinished sentences.

They passed phones under desks.

Notes folded and unfolded.

The plan sat between them, heavy as grief.

Every hallway whisper felt like a knife, everything feels totally annoying.

Everything looks alright, but they don't, They know better, and Jasmine’s fingers twitched with the urge to upload the tape.

*Not yet*, she told herself.

They needed more—proof, action, *justice*.

Third period.

After the quiz in which no one could concentrate on, they all left school sharing themselves in Groups.

And the storm…had officially begun.

Lylah went with indigo while jasmine and Coraline were team, the woman from that night didn't leave anything to see.

Auntie Lillian said something about her name being, madam GG.

Not to talk about the huge sum of amounts aunt Lillian owes her, but that doesn't give her the right to take River away.

*

**ROYAL ELITE HIGH —
AN EMPTY CLASSROOM, 1:07 PM**

The classroom sat in a hush unlike any other.

Desks were crooked, sunlight slipped half-heartedly through dusty Venetian blinds, and the faint echoes of student chatter from the hallway bled through the thick cement walls like background noise in a dream.

But inside, Orion was still.

It's the same classroom in which he brought his little short teacher to before

He sat alone at the back of the room, slouched slightly, long legs stretched out beneath the desk like he owned the silence.

His hood was down, black hair tousled just enough to look accidental, his broad shoulders relaxed—but the tension in his face said otherwise.

His jaw twitched once, then stilled.

Eyes like midnight storms were locked on the wall in front of him, but he wasn’t really looking.

He was thinking.

Or more like... *brewing*.

“That short fat teacher,” he muttered under his breath, voice low, grating against the quiet like gravel on tile.

“She knows she can’t run. She knows that,” he added with a tilt of his head, speaking to no one—and everyone.

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.

Across it blinked a missed call.

*Rigg.*

Orion’s brow dipped just slightly before he tapped again, opening the location ping.

A red dot blinked on the map—the man’s position was nowhere near where he was supposed to be.

“What the hell are you even doing there, stupid?” Orion murmured, voice tight, brows furrowed.

He stood slowly, stretching his arms overhead as if shaking off whatever crackling energy hummed under his skin.

His footsteps across the floor were soundless, predatory.

He paused once at the door, rolling his neck, muscles rippling beneath his uniform shirt—and pushed it open with his shoulder, slipping into the hallway like a shadow.

Just after he vanished, another shadow peeled from the corner.

Jezebel.

She leaned on the doorframe with one hip cocked out, her fingers tracing lazy circles on her phone.

Her eyes—sharp, hungry, painted in cruel eyeliner—watched Orion’s form disappear into the crowded hallway.

A crooked grin crept across her face.

“I’ll have him,” she whispered, licking her bottom lip with slow, venomous delight.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s girls or guys—he's gonna beg for *me* too.”

Without another glance, she spun on her heel and stomped off confidently, her too-short skirt catching on her thigh as she moved—tight and tacky, like her plans.

The hallway noise swallowed everything whole.

*

**UNDERGROUND FIGHTING PIT — 10:34PM**

The metal hatch creaked open and released a gust of hot, dense air that hit Jasmine and Coraline like a slap to the face.

Followed by the smell of Sweat, blood, cheap ci******es, and something feral clung to every molecule of the place.

The dim stairwell spiraled downward, lit only by flickering red bulbs and glowing graffiti, like a portal to hell etched in neon.

Unlike Coraline, Jasmine didn’t flinch.

She took a deep breath, popped the collar of her black leather jacket, and descended with the ease of someone stepping into familiar chaos.

Coraline followed close, her lilac ponytail now tucked into a beanie, her eyes wide and alert.

Her combat boots clicked against the metal steps, each sound swallowed by the roar growing louder below.

Though she's a pushover, she'd never let anything happen to her sweet little cousin.

Even if it means, tearing down a nation.

When they finally emerged deeply into the pit, the scene before them was *pure madness*.

The ceiling dripped with humidity and old leaks.

The crowd surged like it had a heartbeat—loud, aggressive, and primal.

Shirtless men with bulging muscles shoved against each other, screaming and roaring like they were at war.

Some had blood smeared across their chests—not their own.

Chains dangled from the walls.

Smoke danced lazily in thick curls overhead, barely escaping through the vents.

The *ring* sat at the center—rusted cage walls, dented floor, slick patches where fights had ended badly.

Two fighters inside it went at each other viciously, fists cracking bone like it was nothing.

Blood splattered the ropes, and the crowd ate it up—screaming, howling, chanting names like savage gods demanding more.

Women leaned against the walls and sat on makeshift thrones of crates.

But not just any women—these *creatures* looked like something out of a twisted fever dream.

Plunging neon bodysuits, cyberpunk masks, painted-on tattoos, and seven-inch heels that defied physics.

One licked a glittery knife.

Another smoked through a hole in her mesh-covered veil.

None of them looked remotely human.

Jasmine led Coraline straight through it, eyes focused, ignoring the catcalls and stares.

She owned every step, her reputation walking a few feet ahead of her.

Coraline stuck close, heart thudding as the crowd parted around them slightly—out of respect… or fear.

This wasn’t just a fight club.

It was *a whole underground kingdom*—and Jasmine Drake was about to start her storm right from the belly of the beast.

~

"Madam GG??? Why the hell would I help you, jas!" The ugly looking man seated in front of them said.

It took everything in Coraline not to roll her eyes, he was actually the beast in the ring a moment ago.

He's a total animal.

"Uncle Joe, you owe me. You know that from the depths of your rotten heart, and you're paying." Jasmine replied, sitting up.

Nobody owes her, even the man sitting down in front of them knows that too well.

She was three years old when she put a bullet through his rib, and it took him three operations to survive.

The couch they sat on was totally uncomfortable and old, with the woods already sticking out.

"Nobody knows who she is, she's mysterious. No face or anything and she owes the entire underworld. She might owe me, you wouldn't know" Joe said, folding his huge arms on his chest with a look.

"Nobody owns you, uncle Joe. You're not faithful!" Jasmine said, she stood up and walked closer to him pulling out her phone from her black blazer.

"Take a look!" She muttered as she showed him the video she made during the kidnapping.

Joe stared quietly at the video in front of him, looking the least unbothered.

"Black market?" Joe repeated madam GG's words from the video.

"There's only one place that girl is going into," Joe murmured softly, his voice low and thick.

He stood up, towering over jasmine, Coraline stood up as well and held Jasmine's hand.

"Come with me!" Uncle Joe said as he started leading them deeply into the pits, they followed.

*

**THE VELVET BOOM NIGHTCLUB — 11:41PM**

The club pulsed like a living beast, its walls breathing rhythm through pounding bass and flickering lights that soaked the room in deep shades of scarlet and gold.

Fog machines blurred the corners, and strobes made everything feel like a fever dream just on the edge of becoming a nightmare.

Scent hit first—liquor, heated bodies, expensive perfume, and something faintly metallic, like spilled secrets and danger lingering in the air.

Indigo entered first.

Her heels tapped against the gleaming black floor, cutting through the blur of light like a lit fuse.

She didn’t just walk—she *owned* the air around her, hips swaying with effortless royalty.

Her long coat shimmered under the lights, and her silver hoops caught every beam like they were built to blind onlookers.

Lylah followed, stiff-spined, eyes narrowed beneath carefully done lashes.

Her short, elegant dress clung to her with unplanned grace, but her discomfort was loud.

She hated places like this—too loud, too flashy, too full of people pretending.

She pushed through it only for Indigo, and the mission they shared.

They reached the VVIP entrance—guarded by a red-roped velvet line and two massive men in all black.

No words were exchanged.

The guard nodded; Indigo didn’t pause.

Inside, everything changed.

The noise dimmed into muffled elite chatter, champagne popped somewhere to the right, and digital jazz shifted the air.

Clusters of the city’s most dangerous rich lounged across diamond-stitched couches—gang heirs, political sons, sinners in sequins.

“Keep your eyes sharp,” Indigo murmured.

They slid into a private, half-shaded booth.

A waiter approached, too well-trained to speak first.

“Not now,” Indigo said coldly.

The waiter vanished quickly like smoke.

Lylah’s arms stayed crossed tightly, gaze flicking around the room.

Her posture screamed discomfort.

After awhile—the man arrived.

Brown hat tilted low, perfectly creased collar, black assistant’s bag slung over his shoulder.

He walked like a cop pretending not to be one. Cool. Calculated.

Dangerous in silence.

He saw Indigo and that tired smile cracked across his lips just a bit.

“Cousin,” she greeted him with warmth that didn’t reach her eyes, wrapping him in a hug.

“Hey there.” Jeffrey’s voice was low, worn velvet with grit.

“I assume you’re not just here for drinks—and it’s not about Maya?”

They all sat.

Indigo leaned forward, fingers steepled.

“We’ve got someone to take down—an abusive teacher, but it’s deeper than it sounds. Organized. Filthy. I’ll send you the locations by tomorrow night. You’ll need to bring the full team. EFCC level.”

Jeffrey's raised a brow.

“What about the cops?”

Indigo shook her head.

“ totally Useless. It has to be *you*.”

Jeffrey hesitated.

And then Lylah spoke.

“ this is more serious than life, It’s a matter of life and death, Mr Jeff,” she said softly, her voice trembling on the last word.

A single tear slid down her cheek, catching the club light like a jewel before she wiped it away.

Jeffrey looked between them, then gave one Curt nod.

“Send me the drop, and I'd appear with Battalions, I promise!.”

Indigo's face lit up and she threw her arms around him again.

"You're still my favorite stone-face."

He laughed faintly, kissed her forehead, then stood.

“Don’t get drunk.” he warned.

He was gone before Lylah even exhaled.

Indigo dropped back in her seat with a wicked grin.

“ That hag has no idea what's coming…”

But Lylah wasn’t listening.

Her eyes had locked onto a familiar silhouette across the club—a man, slouched in a cracked velvet chair like the world owed him nothing. Head tilted back, pouring cheap vodka straight from the neck, his profile lit by a flash of red neon.

Recognition chilled her blood.

He hadn't seen her yet.

But she was already walking toward him, legs moving on instinct, mind spinning.

It was him.

Even in the chaos—

*she’d know that face anywhere.*

✰✰.

༆ 𝑻𝑩𝑪 ༆