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Eyes off my mouse
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2024-10-23 14:02:11"When I was in the confinement cell, there was a nail lying on the ground which I didn’t know of," no one could know with the full darkness one was surrounded by and left to spend time in. "I stepped on the nail."
"Must have hurt really bad," his words suddenly turned gentle, but Sherry wasn’t sure if she heard it right. Dallion ran his thumb much more gently from one side to the other, making her heart leap and her body jerk. His grip remained firm around her ankle. Sherry could feel his hand touching her skin, the warmth of it making her fret. "Dallion?" she spoke softly, for him to respond with a hum. "What is it?" What was what? He was holding her ankle without letting go. "Could you please let go of my leg?" She kept her speech docile, with a certain passive aggressiveness in it, wanting him to drop her leg. But instead of listening to her request, Dallion only ran his finger over her feet. "Why, little mouse? Let me demonstrate something for you, so that you can keep it in your mind. Alright?" At first, she didn’t understand what this demonstration was about until he ran his fingernail sharply against the back of her foot, making her cry out in pain as it pierced her skin. "Please, Dallion." She could feel the burn on her feet which started to hurt. Dallion’s eyes fell on the girl in front of him, her face contorting in pain as he had scraped her skin, leaving a small streak of blood in the same place where she had previously been hurt, without letting it heal properly. Instead of letting go, he then took the same kerchief he had offered her before and tied it back around her foot. Sherry didn’t understand why he had hurt her just now. This man’s head was messed up for hurting her for no reason, until she heard him speak. "Keep this in mind before you do anything where we’re going. One toe out of line, and the punishment will be far worse than what you’ve experienced right now." "I didn’t do anything," she said, pulling her foot away to drop it down when his grip loosened. "But you will. Having studied you, there’s a possibility you might do something I won’t be happy about." She didn’t understand what he meant by it. She had been careful with her words too, after getting drenched in the rain like a wet dog, yet she had been punished. Sherry was sure that Dallion needed his head checked. When the car finally pulled over, Sherry was the first to step out, her footsteps uneven due to the kerchief wrapped around her left foot. A massive mansion stood mighty in front of them, its black walls making it feel eerie and causing her to feel suddenly cautious. Dark grey clouds hovered all around in the sky, growling threateningly. She wanted to ask where they were, but Dallion didn’t wait for her and instead started to walk towards the entrance. Two guards stood on either side of the open double doors. Following his footsteps, Sherry stepped inside. For a moment, she was sure he was going to make her remove his coat, like he had made her help him wear it. But he didn’t. He continued walking, eventually meeting a group of three people—a man and two women. One of the women sat on a plush couch, with the man a seat away from her. A boy sat at her feet, massaging her legs. He looked to be around sixteen, with freckles on his face. Another woman stood nearby, holding a whip and staring down at a girl who knelt on the ground. "Dallion, how good to see you. We thought you wouldn’t come," the man—undoubtedly another member of the Cross empire—greeted Dallion. "I wouldn’t miss such an occasion. You did say it was two million dollars that would be met. How could I miss it?" Dallion answered, a lopsided smile on his lips. "Whom have you brought?" the woman on the couch, questioned as her eyes fell on Sherry standing behind Dallion. "So, the rumor is true," the man said, looking at Sherry, who kept her head up, watching the people. "What rumor?" asked the woman, still seated on the couch. "The rumor about Dallion buying a captive for himself," the man gauged Sherry up and down, a smirk crossing his lips, his eyes filled with ill intention. It made her uncomfortable, but the way the women in the room gawked at her only made her want to return to the room where Dallion had locked her before. The man laughed. "I was curious what made you spend five hundred thousand dollars on a lone slave." Sherry, lacking the experience of being a blue Beard captive, abashedly stared back at the man before averting her gaze. His neatly combed brown hair and open shirt buttons made him look like he didn’t belong to a good group, and everything in the room screamed danger. "Eyes off my little mouse, Rivers ," Dallion warned the man with a bright smile etched on his lips. Rivers raised his hands in mock surrender. "I wasn’t doing anything." "Of course you weren’t. You wouldn’t want to lose your eyes, would you?" Dallion laughed, leaving the room in eerie silence.Related chapters
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Sherry was taken aback by the mild threat, and for a minute, she wondered if Dallion was joking about gouging the man’s eyes out. When she turned to look at the man, Rivers seemed to have stopped staring at her and had instead gone to fetch himself a drink. Dallion walked to one of the empty couches, where no one sat, leaning his back completely as he crossed his legs, eyes locking on the woman who was standing in the room with a young girl sitting down on her knees. "I see your little mouse has been taking good care of you," he chimed in, glancing at the boy who hadn’t raised his eyes to anyone but his mistress' legs, massaging her ankles now. "Luke is a lovely boy, isn’t he?" the woman smiled, looking down at her captive, whom she had personally acquired from a hidden auction, unlike Dallion, who had snatched Sherryl from the black market. "Your little mouse hasn’t learned the code of conduct for captives," the woman remarked, her red eyes sizing Sherry up. Sherry hadn’t dropp
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While Sherryl was lost in her own thoughts, the people in the room couldn’t help but keep their ears on Dallion's words. Captives, reduced to nothing but dust beneath the feet of mafia bosses and their powerful elites, were treated with derogatory remarks, degraded by their owners, as their lives belonged to the ones who had bought or captured them. Yet, very few actually called the captives by their real names—something that once in a while raised the eyebrows of the others in the room. Dallion, though noticing the gaze, didn’t bother with such trivialities when there were more pressing matters on his mind. While Sherry behaved as a good captive should, keeping her eyes and head down, she couldn’t shake the feeling of two pairs of eyes locked on her. Both belonged to mafia elites, but neither belonged to her captor. One was a man, the other a woman, the one who had wanted Dallion to allow her to punish Sherry, and the third eye she was now sensing was of the woman who had earlier
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Sherry could somewhat relate to this as she had seen or gone through things like this before. The city she used to live in, especially after her mother passed away, was far from what one would call decent, let alone luxurious. As Dallion had pointed out, if a person failed to bring in money, someone else in the family would have to step up to keep them afloat. Her city had been in a constant state of crisis, where jobs were scarce, and opportunities for a better life were even scarcer. The people barely made it through, and everything from food to basic necessities was overpriced, making it hard for anyone to live a decent life. Most of the city’s residents knew the dealings between the local officials and those in higher power. Money that was supposed to be used for development or relief always disappeared, never reaching the people who needed it most. The corruption ran deep, affecting everyone. "You think it’s right?" she asked Dallion. "Which part?" he replied casually.
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The weather today seemed strangely better, with the sunset beginning to cast its fading glow, illuminating the horizon. It must have been because it had rained last night—enough to grant a break to the lands. Even though the sun's rays didn’t break through the window fully and weren’t warm, Sherry could still feel the heat just by the light touching her skin. It had been so long since she had seen sunlight, and an unconscious smile crept onto her lips. She turned her face toward the window, her eyes closed, savoring the fleeting warmth. Dallion noticed the small smile on her lips. Such a simple girl, he thought. He could see how she found joy in the smallest of things, completely oblivious to the darkness surrounding her. 'Dali, do you know what’s beautiful about this flower here?' echoed a voice from his past, without him even closing his eyes. 'It’s the simplicity. The flower doesn’t stand out like the rest.' Young Dallion had stared at the flower in the woman’s hand. 'Place a
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Reaching back the mansion, Sherry got down to follow right behind Dallion. Before becoming a captive, her hands and time were usually full—working endlessly to make her living, saving every dime so that one day she could use it—Her money! She realized the cash she had been stashing away must still be there unless someone had found it! More than anything right now, Sherry couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened to the money she had saved all those years. It wasn't much, just a good sum of seventeen hundred dollars, but it was the most she'd saved until now. Thinking about how her foster aunt May and uncle Larry had sold her off like a commodity for chump change made her stomach churn. She wondered if sharing a piece of it with them could’ve avoided this, kept her from becoming someone’s property. But then, she shook her head internally—there was no reasoning with scum like that. Her relatives didn’t deserve even a penny from her pocket after what they had done. Who knew peop
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Nickison, the butler, was making his way from the dining room to the kitchen when he caught sight of Lady Rose doing what she did best—scolding and belittling the workers of the Cross empire. On a second glance, he realized it wasn’t one of the usual servants but Master Dallion’s little mouse, Sherryl Rain. His footsteps faltered. Rose didn’t spare anyone, not even those who weren’t part of the empire. The young mafia queen enjoyed watching the staff cower, asserting her dominance to remind them who held the real power. Even he, a long-standing butler, had not been spared from her biting tongue. After overhearing Sherryl’s defiant words, Nickison pressed his lips together, knowing trouble was brewing. He was well aware that the walls of the mansion were about to shake. "He’s my brother, so you’re indirectly obligated to serve me the same way you serve him," Rose taunted, shoving Sherryl’s head as though she were a toy to be played with. "Didn’t you hear me? Come to my room," she o
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Before Rose had left Sherry's hand, she'd had a good exchange of words with her step brother which Sherry had really found it... She didn't know how to really term the words, because one was surprisingly angry while the other was really composed. This is how their banter had gone before Rose finally released her. Rose out of anger only turned Sherryl’s arm to another side where the furrow between the captive’s forehead increased. Dallion, noticing this, looked at his butler who was quietly standing by. Raising the rolled-up document, he handed it to him. “Take this to Gray's mansion,” the butler bowed his head, not spending another minute as the order had been given. He walked towards the main doors and away from them. “Let go of her, sister.” Rose tilted her head in curiosity, “Why? She doesn’t even know who the mistress is. She even shows the courage to deflect me.”
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Rose his younger step sister, as she liked to be called—was a fierce opponent. For a split second, Sherryl had believed Rose would snap her arm like a twig, but then Dallion had arrived, saving her from an imminent breaking. Still, grabbing Rose’s hand in reflex had been a mistake—a direct challenge. And now Sherryl was sure she’d made it onto Rose’s personal hit list. As she lay there contemplating her options, her mind drifted to escape plans. She had to get out before it was too late. Two hours, Dallion had said in the car earlier. It was all she needed to flee the city. Maybe she could make it to Cross empire’s neighboring districts, but first, she'd need to be careful, as she bide her time. To he she'll either run to the eastern part of Bone lake into Indiana Valleys or maybe move towards Blue city Somewhere out of his reach. But what about the photo and fingerprints he claimed to
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Dallion had pulled off his mud-covered shoes, setting them aside before stepping back into the bathroom. Sherryl was already in the bathtub, submerged in warm water, her bare skin hidden beneath the rippling surface. The heat soothed her shivering body, easing the lingering chill from earlier. But she hadn’t expected Dallion to walk back in after she had stripped down completely. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said casually, not sparing her a glance as he strode toward one of the built-in cupboards along the wall. His voice was calm, unbothered. With his back to her, he rummaged through the shelves, unaware—or maybe fully aware—of the panic spreading across Sherryl’s face. Should she get out of the bath? The thought made her heart race. This had never happened before, so she hadn’t even considered that he might walk in while she was completely exposed. Her body had been mostly visible above the water before,
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The maid’s body lay lifeless on the cold ground, her head barely attached, hanging at an unnatural angle. Blood pooled beneath her, the sharp scent thick in the air. Everyone stood frozen, the shock rendering them silent. Death wasn’t unusual in their world, but it was usually kept behind closed doors—clean, quiet, and handled out of sight. Dallion had no interest in subtlety. A lesson had to be taught, and he had made his point. No one would dare step out of line again.Grace was the first to speak, her voice steady but laced with disbelief. “Dallion, why did you kill her?” She was the only one with the nerve to ask, maybe because she was older. His voice was cold, empty. “Didn’t you hear me?” “I did.” Grace sighed, then turned to the servants. “Go back to your work.” The staff, still shaken, hurried to obey. A few hesitated, their gazes flickering to the corpse, but when Nickison sho
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Sherryl woke to the familiar sounds of the Cross mansion stirring to life. She went through her usual morning routine, the image of the destroyed port still lingering in her mind. Later, she stood on her balcony, gazing out at the vast expanse of the sea stretching below the mansion. The rhythmic crash of the waves usually brought her a sense of calm, but today, her thoughts were troubled. Suddenly, she was shoved forward, stumbling slightly. This was the second time in less than a week someone had deliberately pushed her. A chill ran down her spine. Was it a coincidence, or was something more sinister happening?She knew the Cross empire was a dark place, but someone messing with her under Dallion's nose, that person was wishing death. She tried to struggle to swim but all was in vain. Until she felt a gentle masculine hand wrapping around her.It was Dallion, he saved her again. After both Sherryl and Dallion climbed up the hill—with Dallion
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Sherryl’s hands went cold. An entire Cross family port wiped off the map—just like that. She swallowed, trying to wrap her mind around the scale of destruction. “They’re that powerful?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended. “What do they even gain from it? Resources can be taken in other ways.” Dallion exhaled, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “True, but nothing compares to raw life force. Especially in large quantities—it’s pure, unfiltered energy.” Sherryl clenched her fists. “And it’s only poor workers?”She knew the workers at the marina were the poor innocent people who never knew what they were guarding and packing. She was sure nobody had told them about anything about what type of job they were doing but only to follow orders. “Unfortunately, yes.” He tilted his head, watching her reaction. “The poor are easy to manipulate. Remember that body you saw at the council’s facility?”
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Weeks passed in the country, including Bonlake, where the city barely saw any shift in its weather. With winter closing in, the air had turned sharper, colder, forcing people to stockpile wood to burn through the long, unforgiving nights. As always, Sherryl sat at the desk, her fingers gripping the pen as she finished the last of her work. Two candles flickered at the edge of the wooden surface, their dim glow fighting against the darkness that pressed against the room. The only sound was the steady tick of the clock, each second stretching into the silence. It was nearing eleven. “Are you done, Sherry?” The voice drifted in from the balcony, where Grace had been standing ever since she handed out the assignment. “Yes, Lady Grace,” Sherryl answered, keeping her gaze on the parchment she had just finished filling. A gust of wind swept in as Grace stepped inside, her chiffon dress swaying around her as she moved to
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Sherryl's heart pounded, each beat loud in her ears as if she were prey caught in the sights of a predator. Was this it? Was she just another piece for him to break, another game to play until he was bored? Dallion’s gaze never wavered as he asked, “What’s got you so scared?” She swallowed hard. “It’s going to hurt.” The mere thought of his teeth—or rather, his knife—against her skin made a shiver race down her spine. A smirk curved on his lips. “Pain can be… enjoyable, under the right circumstances.” His voice was low, smooth, as he placed one hand beside her head, trapping her beneath him. Sherryl’s breath hitched. “Only a true masochist would think like that,” she blurted, her nerves making her speak without thinking. Dallion chuckled, his amusement only making her pulse race faster. “That just means you haven’t experienced it properly yet,” he mused, his dark eyes watching her intently. Her ine
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Was Dallion being serious? Did this mean she would never have a life of her own? That she would grow old, still bound to him, still serving the Cross empire, while he remained the same—young, powerful, untouchable? “No,” Sherryl frowned, her expression tightening. Dallion gave her a curious look. “What? Worried the family feels too small? We can always add Sheeran to it. That make it better?” His smirk told her he already knew the answer. Of course, it didn’t. Adding his wolf of a right-hand man to this so-called ‘family’ didn’t make it feel any less like a cage. “Are you serious?” she asked, her voice edged with frustration. She needed to be sure—needed to know if this was just another one of his games, another way to toy with her for his own amusement. Dallion stepped toward her, lifting his hand. Instinctively, Sherryl squeezed her eyes shut, but his voice, suddenly soft, made her open them again.
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Back in the dimly lit penthouse, Dallion leaned back in his leather chair, sipping the dark red drink Nickison had brought to his room. One cup down, he poured himself another, the liquid swirling lazily inside the crystal glass. Sherryl stood in silence, watching him, her expression unreadable. Dallion hadn’t set the glass down, holding onto it like a moth clinging to a cold, unyielding wall. He took his time, savoring this second drink rather than downing it as he had the first. "Did you and Rose have some kind of fight last week?" he asked, lazily running his tongue over his lips, catching the last drop of the drink. "She seems eager to take shots at you." Sherryl hesitated before replying, "I don’t believe I’ve done anything to upset her, sir." Though, deep down, she suspected Rose’s constant hostility was simply because she was Dallion’s possession—his little mouse. And that alone seemed to be enough reason for Rose to make her life mise
