Amara stared at Derek, her eyes wide with fear. She recognized him as one of Killian's friends. She had seen him occasionally at college, always lingering with Killian's group. He had even visited the mansion once, but she had never interacted with him—Killian had strictly forbidden her from speaking to any man other than Aiden. There had been times when she caught Derek's gaze lingering on her, making her uncomfortable, but she had dismissed it as her imagination, overwhelmed by her senses. Now, she wished she had trusted her instincts. The man before her looked lethal, a predator ready to tear her apart and feast on her remains. "What are you doing? Leave me!" She shouted, struggling desperately against him. She tried to pull her wrist free from Derek's bruising grip but his hold was strong, and her efforts seemed futile against his strength. Derek's lips curled into a wicked smile as he watched her struggle and shout. "Keep shouting, Amara" he taunted, tightening his grip o
Killian had never known guilt. Torturing a man, taking a life, leaving women sobbing and begging at his feet—none of it touched his cold heart. Nor did he ever cried when he was made to go through difficult and truamatising situations. He remained strong because tears were nothing a sign of weakness, and Killian Suvillian had no weaknesses. So, to see a man like him, whose heart is made of stone and unmoved by the suffering of others—shed tears is truly shocking. When he first met Amara, he never imagined she would become such an important part of his life. Her suffering affected him deeply, making him vulnerable in a way no one else ever could. He watched her, her body trembling in fear, eyes brimming with tears, and ugly bruises marring her skin, making her look so fragile and weak, as if she might break at any moment. The moisture in his eyes blurred his vision. He longed to go to her, to envelop her in his embrace, to comfort her and wipe away her tears. But he couldn't. He coul
Amara lay unconscious on the hospital bed, an oxygen mask covering her face. If anything, it only made her condition even more pitfull. She looked fragile in every sense of the word. Despite being pregnant, she hadn't gained any weight; in fact, she seemed to have lost more. Her once full cheeks were now hollow after just three days of unconsciousness, her cheekbones sharply prominent. For someone carrying a child, she resembled a child herself—one in desperate need of protection from the world and to be treasured. Killian stared at her unconscious form, his gaze unwavering. For the past three days, he hadn't left her side, no matter what emergencies arose. Since the assault, something inside him had snapped, leaving him irrevocably changed. A gut-wrenching feeling seized him every time he imagined what she had endured at the hands of Derek and Richard—and especially because of him.It felt like a slap in the face.He was the one responsible for her greatest nightmare, the source of
Killian stared at Derek and Richard with eyes devoid of any emotion, looking almost dead. His face was blank, unreadable, making it impossible to fathom what he was thinking. One of the men handed him a knife. He took it, and its blade glowed menacingly in the darkness of the basement. He simply raised his head towards Derek and Richard, his eyes filled with pure darkness, a look that promised nothing but destruction. Killian began to walk towards Derek and Richard, who were tied to their chairs. Fear spread across their faces as they saw the deadly knife in Killian's hand. They struggled desperately against the ropes, trying to free themselves and get saved from Killian's wrath. "My wife is lying unconscious in the hospital. The doctor said her brain shut down from the trauma. She couldn't handle it anymore." Killian tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving theirs. "Do you know why she's in this condition?" He asked, his voice a dark whisper.Derek clenched his jaw upon h
At ten in the morning, the sun shone brightly, spreading its warmth everywhere. The air was filled with the joyful sounds of children's laughter. Young kids played together, while teenagers gathered in small groups, busy among themselves. The scene seemed to radiate life, love, and happiness.Yet, beneath this cheerful facade lay a harsher reality. This was an orphanage, home to children discarded by their parents as though their lives had no value. These children shared a common connection between them- they were seen as the products of sin by the world. Born from teenage pregnancies, assault and rape, or adultery, their parents could not—or would not—keep them. These children were hidden away from the world, for they are the darkest of sin. Abandoned on the orphanage's doorstep, they were left to grow up in darkness. Killian stared at the orphanage in front of him. It was the very place where Amara had been abandoned, where she had grown up without any parental support. The orphan
Killian stepped into the brothel, one of the oldest and most infamous establishments in the city. This was a place designed to satisfy the darkest desires and animalistic urges of men. Women from all corners of the globe worked here, numbering in the hundreds. Some were there by choice, but many were forced into this life. In a place like this, consent was a meaningless concept. The women were mere playthings, used and discarded at the whims of men. Killian, however, always stayed away from this place. It wasn't that he didn't liked sex but because he didn't want to touch a woman that was used by many men. This place, nonetheless, was a lucrative deal, bringing a lot of profit and income with men paying in millions to satisfy their inner sadists, and torturing and abusing the bodies of women for their sick pleasures.As Killian stepped into the brothel, all eyes turned towards him, conversations ceased and silence spread everywhere. One of the men who worked there, hurried over to h
Amara stared out the window, clad in a plain hospital dress. It had been two days since she woke up, and somewhere deep in her heart, she regretted it. Being in a coma had shielded her from the brutality and cruelty of reality. In that unconscious state, she had been safe and at peace, far removed from the harshness of the world. "Amara." A gentle voice called her name, and she turned to find Mary standing beside her. Mary stepped closer, her hand gently caressing Amara's head. The warmth from her touch made Amara close her eyes, and fresh tears welled up, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. This wasn't how she had envisioned meeting Mary again. She had hoped to complete her degree, secure a good job, and greet Mary with a smile. Instead, she was in a hospital, pregnant with a baby she didn't want, meeting Mary with a broken look on her face. Was this her fate? To live a life wherein she was broken and forced into circumstances beyond her control? Mary's eyes filled with concer
Killian has changed.Amara senses it in the way he looks at her, as if she is the most precious thing in the world. His eyes are filled with a tenderness so intense it's almost painful to witness, a stare so delicate and fragile that she doesn't even realize he is watching her until she meets his gaze. The way he speaks to her has changed too. His voice, once harsh and hard, is now a gentle murmur, as if he believes she will shatter at the slightest hint of coldness. Every word he utters is wrapped in velvet, so soft and careful, as if she'll break if he speaks any louder. She doesn't understand what he's trying to achieve with all this. Is this another facade of his? A sick game to make her emotionally weak, only to strike when she least expects it? Hasn't he broken her enough already? She is merely existing now, a broken shell of the person she once was. The door creaked open as Killian entered the hospital room, only to find Amara staring outside the window with her back turned