Selvaya's POV
"What did you just say?" Dorian didn't shout at first, that was the terrifying part.
He moved and in three strides he was standing in front of me, fingers slamming around my throat, driving me back against the wall with a force that crashed my head into it.
"Answer me, you stupid bitch!" His grip tightened.
My lungs burned instantly. Air refused to enter. I clawed at his wrist, my nails digging into his skin, but he didn't even care. He never did.
"P–please… Do—rian…" The syllables scraped out broken and thin.
His eyes were wild, not out of confusion but of anger.
"How," he snarled, leaning closer, his breath hot against my face, "did you get pregnant? I put you on the pills. I made sure of it. So how the fuck did this happen?"
Tears blurred my vision as memories flashed through my mind.
I was only eighteen when I first met Dorian Veynar. He showered me with attention, and I was naive enough to think it was love. I ran away from my father— from his empire, from my country— and followed Dorian all the way down to Vecanaria.
All I ever wanted was to be a house wife to a rich man, spend his money, go on outings, travel the world and just make beautiful babies for him but my dreams shattered right before my eyes.
Dorian turned me to a prisoner. He made sure I wasn't allowed to step out of his castle, and worse of all, he refused to marry me. To him, I was nothing more than a tool for pleasure.
"All I need you to do, Sel, is stay pretty and young for me, this way I don't ever have to cheat on you," he would constantly repeat whenever I asked why he didn't want a child.
His reply was all a lie.
I had caught him countless times, fucking different putas. Most times he would forget their panties on his bed and whenever I asked, he would outrightly deny it. If I pressured him for the truth, my face would become a boxing bag.
"Hey, don't cry, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you," his voice cracked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Now, he was wiping the tears off my face.
If anyone saw him like this, if they saw the way he was acting like he cared… they would think he was the ideal man — the man every woman deserved. It was all an act or rather, he was a bi-fucking-polar psychopath.
Maybe three years ago, If he acted this way, I would have fallen for it. I would have just passed it off as him being too stressed but I knew better now.
The number one drug dealing mafia in Vecanaria was nothing close to being a human being.
He was the devil himself or maybe worse. Still there was nothing I could do.
And if running away crossed your mind, know that it was never an option for me. Dorian had securities and cameras over the place. I had seen him shoot a man who wandered into his territory, without hesitation.
His fingers loosened, replacing the crushing pressure on my windpipe vanished by the stinging rush of oxygen. I coughed and my knees buckled, but he caught me, his hands sliding from my throat to my waist with a gentleness that made my skin crawl.
"Did you hear me? I'm sorry, Sel," he whispered and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing the bruise he had just created. "You know how I get when stressed. Right now I'm going through a lot because of a deal that didn't fall through, and then you tell me this… it just blindsided me."
I didn't speak. I couldn't. My throat felt like it had been scraped with glass. I watched him, my breath coming in shallow hitches, searching for the monster I knew was lurking just beneath the surface of his concern.
"We're okay, right?" He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes that were calm now. "I'll make it up to you. I'll have the cook make that pasta you like. Just rest for a bit."
He kissed my forehead and walked out of the bedroom. As soon as the door clicked shut, the lock turned from outside. I sank onto the edge of the bed, my hands shaking. I didn't believe him. Three years in this gilded cage had taught me that Dorian Veynar never gave anything away for free, especially not forgiveness.
I sat in silence, counting the minutes.
Exactly one hour later, the lock turned.
Dorian entered carrying a crystal glass of water and something else in his other hand. He was flashing a practiced, charming smile that he used rival cartels.
When he sat on the edge of the bed beside me, the mattress dipped under his weight.
"Here, baby," he said softly, holding out two white pills. "You're still shaking. These will calm you down. I want you to sleep through the afternoon so we can have a nice dinner tonight."
I looked at the tablets. They looked nothing like the usual anxiety meds he occasionally forced on me. These were unmarked, and chalky. My stomach twisted.
"What are these, Dorian?" I asked, my voice barely a rasp.
His smile didn't flicker, but his eyes hardened. "I told you already, it's something to help you relax. Drink the water, Sel, so you can rest."
"Tell me exactly what they are first," I insisted, pulling my hand away as he tried to press the pills into my palm. "Are these for the baby? Are you trying to get rid of it?"
The charm began to crack, causing a muscle in his jaw to leap. "You know how much I hate being questioned or disrespected, Selvaya. I am trying to take care of you by fixing a mistake. Now, take the pills."
"No."
The word was small, but in the quiet of the room, it sounded like a gunshot.
"What did you say?" Dorian's voice dropped to a low, dangerous register.
"I said no. I'm not taking them. I'm not killing my child because it's inconvenient for your business."
The mask shattered. The "ideal man" vanished, replaced by the demon who ran the streets of Vecanaria. Dorian lunged. Before I could scramble away, his hand shot out, fist clenching into the hair at the back of my head. He yanked my head back with such force that my scalp burned. I cried out, my neck straining at an unnatural angle.
"You don't have a choice," he hissed, his face inches from mine. His eyes were void of any humanity. "You belong to me. Everything inside you belongs to me. If I say it dies, it dies."
He used his other hand to squeeze my jaw, forcing my mouth open. The glass of water was shoved against my lips, spilling down my chin and soaking my shirt. He tried to jam the pills into my mouth, his thumb pressing painfully against my teeth.
"Swallow them!" he roared.
Adrenaline, sharp and cold, flooded my veins. I wasn't the eighteen-year-old girl who had followed him across the border anymore. I was a twenty-one-year-old woman fighting for the only thing that was truly hers.
I thrashed against him, my hands clawing at his face, but he was too heavy, too strong. He pinned my shoulders against the headboard, his weight crushing me. As he leaned in to finalize the assault, his guard dropped for a split second, focused entirely on my mouth.
I gathered every ounce of strength in my legs and drove my knee upward, straight into his groin.
The impact was solid. Dorian let out a choked, guttural wheeze and instantly let go of my hair. He recoiled, dropping the glass that shattered on the floor, making water and shards of crystal spray across the rug.
He was now clutching himself, his face twisted with fury and I knew he wouldn't spare me if his hands caught me again.
"You… bitch…" he groaned, the words bubbling out through the pain.
This was my chance. Without waiting for him to recover, I scrambled off the bed, my feet narrowly missing the broken glass. I bolted for the door. To my surprise, he hadn't re-locked it after entering. I flung it open and hit the hallway at a dead run.
The corridor was long, lined with silent portraits and expensive vases that felt like sentinels. I didn't look back until I reached the top of the grand staircase. Dorian was stumbling out of the bedroom, one hand on the doorframe for support, his face twisted in a mask of pure, murderous rage.
"Get back here!" he screamed, his voice echoing through the atrium.
I took the stairs two at a time, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I reached the bottom floor, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I headed for the main entrance, but my head kept swiveling back, checking the landing. He was coming. He was slower, but he was coming, and he had a house full of men loyal to his blood.
I turned the corner toward the foyer, blinded by the sun streaming through the high windows. I was moving too fast to stop.
I slammed into something solid. It wasn't a wall. It was a broad, unyielding chest that felt like hitting a rock.
The impact sent me reeling back. I would have fallen if a pair of strong hands hadn't caught my upper arms, steadying me. I looked up, terror thick in my throat, ready to scream.
Evander stood over me.
Dorian's cousin and right-hand man looked down with his usual stoic expression, but his dark and perceptive eyes immediately cataloged the bruise forming on my neck and my disheveled hair. In this house of monsters, he was the only one who had ever treated me like a person. He had brought me books when Dorian forbade me from the library; he had looked away when I wept in the garden.
"Evander," I sobbed, clutching the lapels of his suit jacket. "Please. Save me. He's going to ki…."
My words were cut short by Dorian's loud voice. "Evander!" He shouted, his voice booming with the authority of a king. "Seize her!"
He was at the top of the stairs, his hand gripped white around the railing.
I looked back at Evander, my eyes pleading, my whole body trembling against him. This was it. The choice between the blood of his family and the life of a woman who was nothing more than a prisoner.
"Evander, please," I breathed, shaking.