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Saved at a prize
Last Updated:
2024-10-02 12:43:28Dark Mafia Scene
The car sped through the dimly lit streets, the silence between them thick and suffocating. Sherry pressed her bare feet against the floor, bracing herself against the sharp turns. After dealing with the thug and his lackeys, Dallion had pulled her into the black SUV without a word, his cold aura sending chills down her spine. Now, they were on their way to his mansion, a destination she was terrified to reach. It was a pure coincidence that he'd bought her, because he was out hunting for a man she'd barely heard his name was thunder. She couldn’t speak—not after what she had just witnessed. Frank’s brutal stabbing replayed in her mind. Blood had sprayed like rain as Dallion dealt with the man as if it were nothing. A man’s life snuffed out with the ease of checking if meat was cooked properly. Even though the ropes that had bound her wrists were removed, she still felt their phantom grip around her skin in the presence of the man seated next to her. Sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye, Sherry saw Dallion seated with one leg casually crossed over the other, his focus seemingly on the passing city lights through the tinted window. The light from the street lamps barely illuminated his sharp features—his jawline was strong, his cheekbones were cut high, and dark eyebrows framed eyes that she dared not meet. A lock of inky black hair fell across his forehead, softening the hardness of his face, but only just. Before she could tear her eyes away, Dallion's voice broke through the silence. “When was the last time you ate?” His tone was low, almost too calm for the storm of violence she had just witnessed from him. Startled, she looked up to find his dark gaze fixed on her. “Last night,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The hunger gnawed at her, but it wasn’t just that—exhaustion, fear, and the emotional strain of being dragged into this nightmare were weighing on her. Dallion didn’t reply immediately, simply studying her with an unnerving intensity that made her want to shrink into herself. Finally, he tapped on the front window, signaling the driver. “Pull over at the next restaurant.” The driver nodded silently, obeying without question. Sherry's stomach twisted with both hunger and dread. Was this some twisted act of kindness before he did something even more sinister? She had heard about men like him—ruthless, untouchable, and never kind. Men in his world didn’t do things out of compassion. They played games, and she was nothing more than a pawn in his. The SUV came to a stop outside a sleek, upscale restaurant. Dallion stepped out first, not waiting for the driver to open the door for him. Sherry hesitated, her legs still shackled with a chain that allowed her only small, controlled movements. As she stepped down carefully, her chains clinked, drawing attention from the people passing by. Their judgmental eyes followed her, some whispering among themselves at the sight of the woman in tattered clothes and shackles being escorted by a man in an expensive suit. She kept her head down, not daring to look back as Dallion led her inside the restaurant. It wasn’t an ordinary one—this place catered to the wealthy, the elite. and now it was about to cater to a disguised saint of a Mafia. Sherry could feel their stares, their judgment, as they entered the lavish room, all eyes on her shackles and the man she was with. They were led to a private room, the opulence overwhelming. Dallion took a seat, his back resting against the cushioned chair, while she remained standing, unsure of what was expected of her. “What’s your name?” His voice was sharp, cutting through her thoughts. “Sherry… Sherryl,” she corrected herself, trying to keep her composure. “Sherry,” he repeated, almost like he was savoring the taste of her name. “From now on, you answer only to me. Do you understand?” His voice was calm, but the power behind it was unmistakable. He wasn’t asking. He was commanding her. She gave a hesitant nod, but that wasn’t enough for him. Dallion stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he closed the distance between them in two strides. Sherry backed up instinctively, her body pressing against the wall behind her. The chains rattled as her feet struggled to move. Dallion placed one hand against the wall beside her head, trapping her. His dark eyes bore into hers, they were both unyielding and dangerous. “I noticed the hesitation back there, before you were dragged onstage. What was that about?” Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. “I… I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. A sinister smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re lying.” His other hand pressed against the wall, completely boxing her in. “Do you think I’m a fool, little mouse? Your heartbeat’s been going wild since we got here.” Her chest tightened as his words cut through her. Dallion Cross was deadly in more ways than one—his handsome face and charm were only masking the monster beneath. The closer he leaned in, the more suffocated she felt. “Shall I guess the reason for you?” His smile twisted, dark amusement flickering in his eyes. “Or are you planning something I should know about?” “No,” she replied quickly, but her voice lacked conviction. Dallion's smile widened, the madness in his eyes gleaming. “Good,” he muttered, his tone dripping with malice. “Because if I catch you running, you won’t like what happens next.” Sherry flinched, trying to hide the fear that had bubbled to the surface, but it was no use. Dallion's eyes saw through her like she was transparent. Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door. Two servers entered, laying out a feast of dishes that made her stomach clench painfully with hunger. The rich scents filled the air, but her appetite was dulled by the weight of Dallion's presence. He moved back, taking his seat, his gaze never leaving her. “Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the floor next to him. Not at the table, not across from him, but on the cold, hard floor. Sherry hesitated for only a second before lowering herself onto the ground. Dallion began eating, savoring each bite of his meal, while she silently sat there, her stomach kept on growling in resistance, a reminder of her place in his world. A place where even a meal came at a price.
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Dallion held her closer, his grip softer now, unlike before. His hands weren’t restraining her wrists anymore—they were holding all of her, as if anchoring her. It wasn’t just his touch that had changed, but his voice too. It was calm, quieter than usual when he spoke. “Tell me, Sherryl. Do you find it difficult to trust someone with your feelings?” His words were firm yet patient. “You do realize I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s going on?” Something had shifted in her. He had noticed the change immediately. Moments ago, she had been fine—her pupils had been dilated, her breathing slightly unsteady—but then, suddenly, she had gone still. Her heartbeat had steadied unnaturally fast, and her eyes had turned hollow, like she was somewhere else entirely. There was only one conclusion Dallion could come to. Had someone touched her before? Her voice was low when she finally answered. “It’s nothing serious.” Slowly, Dallion loosened his hold but didn’t let her mo
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The tent’s lanterns flickered softly, casting golden light over velvet drapes and aged artifacts. The scent of incense thickened the air, mingling with something more primal—the slow hum of anticipation.Sherry sat in the center of the room, wrists bound in silk, the smooth fabric a whisper against her skin. The ties weren’t meant for struggle, but for awareness—of herself, of the watchful presence behind her, and of the woman before her.Bluebeard Lady circled her like a patient instructor, a delicate silver chain swaying between her fingers. “Restraint,” she murmured, “isn’t about holding back. It’s about extending sensation, drawing it out until it becomes something unforgettable.”Sherry swallowed hard, feeling the heat of Dallion’s gaze from his seat across the room. He had yet to speak, but his presence was a force in itself—a quiet command.The woman knelt before Sherry, her fingers ghosting over her skin, feather-light. Even with
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Sherryl Rain kept her head low, focusing on the lesson, even though she knew how rare it was for someone of Grace’s status to take the time to educate a mere servant. Most high-ranking figures in the Cross Empire saw little value in teaching those beneath them. Grace glanced at the worn parchment in front of her before turning her cold gaze to Sherryl, the little mouse that belonged to Dallion. “We’ll stop here for today,” Grace decided, stretching as she closed the book. “I need to take my mother and sister out to the Valley. Would you like to come?” The offer sounded casual, but Sherryl could hear the subtle test in it. “Ever been there before?” Sherryl gave a slight nod. “Master Dallion is taking me somewhere today.” A truthful excuse, but also a way to avoid the suffocating tension she’d have to endure with Grace and her ever-judgmental sister. Without pushing for details, Grace dismissed her, and Sherryl exhaled a brea
