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27. Leatherface.
Last Updated:
2025-03-11 23:55:07
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Retribution 28. Betty Boop
Valencia Nightingale True to his words, I had no choice but to take in every crap and piss they gave me and swallow it without complaining. I spent my night pressed against the door, counting the number of footsteps that echoed as someone walked by, trying to keep the memory of the twists and turns that led to Vladislav’s office fresh and clear in my head. I even stole a paper off the desk and mapped the entire area I walked through with that brute in case I forgot anything. You know what they say? Two times the charm. I was going to put in all my effort to convince Vladislav again. Maybe my argument wasn't solid enough the last time. By the time dawn rolled in, I'd already memorized every inch of the room. Every crack in the walls. Every angle of the windows. Every guard rotation that I could hear just beyond the thick mahogany door. There was no clear path to my destination. If I was planning on escaping, it would have been much easier, but escaping was the last thing on my
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Valencia Nightingale.Anatoly didn't speak as he dragged me back through the pristine, endless hallways of Vladislav's villa— he didn't need to.His silence was loud enough to send his message clearly.His fury was evident, so visible, i could cut through it with a butter knife. It was practically vibrating from his massive body, as if every step he took barely contained the storm building inside him.I almost pitied him.Key word—almost.But right now? I was too high on adrenaline.And victory.A small, triumphant grin played at the corner of my mouth as I allowed myself to be dragged along. My shoulder still ached and after my scruffle with those guards earlier, the ache had intensified, spreading down my arm, numbing my forearm.But none of that mattered.I had done it.I had gotten Vladislav's attention.Not just a passing glance.Not just idle curiosity.But genuine interest.I had forced him to see meAnd Anatoly? He hated it.I could practically hear his teeth grinding behind t
Last Updated : 2025-03-13Retribution 30. The Arena.
Valencia Nightingale The fire I had been desperately searching for came knocking as dawn settled in. Three sharp raps against the door. Calm. Measured. I scrambled from my bed, totally disoriented from my state of troubled sleep, having spent hours pacing through every corner of this darn room. I was already standing when it creaked open. Anatoly. No growl. No threats. Just that same dead stare behind his mask, studying me in silence. It was dawn, Why was he still wearing that damn mask at this time? "Round two?" I asked, my voice dry. He didn't answer. He didn't have to. I already knew. This wasn't a fight between me and him. This was something else. Without a word, he stepped back, holding the door open. Waiting. I forced my legs to move, each step heavier than the last as I crossed the room, grabbing the flannel I found in the wardrobe at the far end of the room before slipping it on, reaching behind to pull my hair from between the collar and my skin. "Where a
Last Updated : 2025-03-17Retribution 31. The Monster Beneath.
Valencia Nightingale Anatoly grabbed my arm, hauling me as we rounded the corner, through the only open space in the cage that gave way to a narrow stretch of steps that led to the podium where Vladislav was seated. My knees ached by the time we finally reached him. But I barely noticed. Because the moment my gaze locked on Vladislav’s… everything else faded. There was something different about him now. Something that wasn’t there before. He sat there like a king surveying his kingdom, his long fingers draped over the armrests, His legs spread wide apart as if anticipating something, The rich, tailored fabric of his dark suit stretching across his broad shoulders, the faintest glint of his cufflinks catching the swinging light above. He looked polished, poised, carved from marble like a war god lounging on his throne. But his eyes… They were alive. Not with amusement. Not with boredom. But something darker. Richer. Hungrier. For the first time since I’d met him, I cou
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Latest chapter
Retribution 32. The Fire Beneath.
Vladislav Moroz There was always a moment before chaos, a moment so still that you could hear the faintest of sounds, could hear the thrum of your own blood as it pulsed through your veins. I could taste the fear in those moments. Valencia stood there barefoot on the slick concrete. Joggers, an oversized flannel, dried blood on her cheek. No shoes. No weapon. No chance. She stood still, barely moving as she glanced around, waiting for her test. Anatoly had already locked the exits. She didn’t bother to check them. I gave her a chance, a choice. She was brave—I had to give it to her. She would rather die at my hand than die at the hands of her traitor of a fiancé. A noble death, if I must say. I could spot the flaws in her stance already, weak spots that would get her killed. Her shoulder, her neck, her hair. It was long, all over the place, easily grabbable. But she stood strong, her dainty figure taut with anticipation. She should have been trembling. She should have b
Retribution 31. The Monster Beneath.
Valencia Nightingale Anatoly grabbed my arm, hauling me as we rounded the corner, through the only open space in the cage that gave way to a narrow stretch of steps that led to the podium where Vladislav was seated. My knees ached by the time we finally reached him. But I barely noticed. Because the moment my gaze locked on Vladislav’s… everything else faded. There was something different about him now. Something that wasn’t there before. He sat there like a king surveying his kingdom, his long fingers draped over the armrests, His legs spread wide apart as if anticipating something, The rich, tailored fabric of his dark suit stretching across his broad shoulders, the faintest glint of his cufflinks catching the swinging light above. He looked polished, poised, carved from marble like a war god lounging on his throne. But his eyes… They were alive. Not with amusement. Not with boredom. But something darker. Richer. Hungrier. For the first time since I’d met him, I cou
Retribution 30. The Arena.
Valencia Nightingale The fire I had been desperately searching for came knocking as dawn settled in. Three sharp raps against the door. Calm. Measured. I scrambled from my bed, totally disoriented from my state of troubled sleep, having spent hours pacing through every corner of this darn room. I was already standing when it creaked open. Anatoly. No growl. No threats. Just that same dead stare behind his mask, studying me in silence. It was dawn, Why was he still wearing that damn mask at this time? "Round two?" I asked, my voice dry. He didn't answer. He didn't have to. I already knew. This wasn't a fight between me and him. This was something else. Without a word, he stepped back, holding the door open. Waiting. I forced my legs to move, each step heavier than the last as I crossed the room, grabbing the flannel I found in the wardrobe at the far end of the room before slipping it on, reaching behind to pull my hair from between the collar and my skin. "Where a
Retribution 29. Dogs and Death Wishes
Valencia Nightingale.Anatoly didn't speak as he dragged me back through the pristine, endless hallways of Vladislav's villa— he didn't need to.His silence was loud enough to send his message clearly.His fury was evident, so visible, i could cut through it with a butter knife. It was practically vibrating from his massive body, as if every step he took barely contained the storm building inside him.I almost pitied him.Key word—almost.But right now? I was too high on adrenaline.And victory.A small, triumphant grin played at the corner of my mouth as I allowed myself to be dragged along. My shoulder still ached and after my scruffle with those guards earlier, the ache had intensified, spreading down my arm, numbing my forearm.But none of that mattered.I had done it.I had gotten Vladislav's attention.Not just a passing glance.Not just idle curiosity.But genuine interest.I had forced him to see meAnd Anatoly? He hated it.I could practically hear his teeth grinding behind t
Retribution 28. Betty Boop
Valencia Nightingale True to his words, I had no choice but to take in every crap and piss they gave me and swallow it without complaining. I spent my night pressed against the door, counting the number of footsteps that echoed as someone walked by, trying to keep the memory of the twists and turns that led to Vladislav’s office fresh and clear in my head. I even stole a paper off the desk and mapped the entire area I walked through with that brute in case I forgot anything. You know what they say? Two times the charm. I was going to put in all my effort to convince Vladislav again. Maybe my argument wasn't solid enough the last time. By the time dawn rolled in, I'd already memorized every inch of the room. Every crack in the walls. Every angle of the windows. Every guard rotation that I could hear just beyond the thick mahogany door. There was no clear path to my destination. If I was planning on escaping, it would have been much easier, but escaping was the last thing on my
Retribution 27. Leatherface.
Valencia Nightingale A soundless gasp escaped my lips as my back hit the bed, knocking the wind right out of me. Pain bloomed instantly around my shoulder, numbing my arm. I groaned through gritted teeth, trying to steady myself as my shoulder burned with raging intensity, every nerve screaming in protest. "Fuck," I seethed, tears stinging my eyes before they shot up to the looming brute hovering over me at the edge of the bed. "I'm going to—" "No," he growled, cutting my words in half. "You know what you're going to do?" His tone was sharp and direct, meant to slice. The question was rhetorical, the kind that didn't require an answer, just submission. And I definitely wasn't submitting to no man. Anger rolled off him in thick waves, raising the temperature of the already suffocating room. It pressed against my skin and seemed to block my airways. I inhaled slowly, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood on the back of my tongue. My pulse hammered in my ears, each beat a remi
Retribution 26. No Bargain
Valencia Nightingale"You didn’t think I saved you because I wanted to help you, did you?"His words replayed in my head, dull and throbbing like a pulsing migraine, words uttered so carelessly that one wouldn't be able to detect the cruel intent behind them. I could almost taste the smirk behind his stone-cold face.Every ounce of the previous warmth I had so desperately sought out, in an attempt to make him appear more humane, vanished before my eyes.A cold sensation settled in my stomach. I couldn’t stuff down the bitter emotion rising to the surface of my throat.Disappointment."Then why did you save me?"Vladislav exhaled through his nose, the faintest trace of amusement flickering across his face. He tilted his head slightly, studying me as if I were an interesting puzzle piece that had landed in his lap.“To use you as an exchange for something I want from him.”The words were spoken with such nonchalance that it took me a moment to fully register them.I stared at him, my mi
Retribution 25. K-I-D-N-A-P-P-E-D
Valencia Nightingale. The aroma of dark, rich, traditional coffee wafted through my nostrils as I sat stiffly opposite Vladislav in his office. The scent of coffee, though quite mouthwatering, did nothing to distract me from the undeniably and unreasonably attractive man before me. In all my twenty-three years of living, I had never once looked at a man and thought, "Wow, this man is attractive". But sitting here, despite fuming with anger, that very single thought kept running through my mind. His face was undeniably carved from stone, his features sharp and intimidating, but as I stared longer, watching him through keen eyes as he combed through a bunch of files on his desk, he looked somewhat softer. Maybe it was the bold ray of sun that reflected through the glass windows or the fact that I might have sustained a brutal concussion from that humongousaur attack, but I found myself noticing the way freckles danced across the bridge of his nose—slightly crooked. Long, shoulder
Retribution 24.He Who Must Not Be Named
Valencia Nightingale.My mind churned with plans.I knew Valencia had given me the chance to live my life in her name, but the guilt clawing at my chest wouldn’t subside until I destroyed everyone who had hurt her.And my pride as well—I would never let Malcom and Maxwell Richter get away with what they did to me.The pieces were aligning, but not fast enough. I needed a strategy, a foothold—something to ensure that when I made my move, it would be absolute. Vladislav was the key, but the lock was still uncertain. How could I manipulate a man who had built an empire without ever picking a side?I could tell he wasn't the type of man to be swayed by carnal desires; otherwise, I could have used femininity to sway him.Bargain? I didn't even own shit.My mind was so lost in thought that I didn’t notice the shift in the room’s atmosphere.Not until a shadow moved.A presence, silent and dominating, filled the space.My eyes snapped up, landing on the massive figure standing near the do
