Ira’s POV

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Not the silence. Not the cold. Not the locked door or the four blank walls. Not him.

Something inside me had cracked.

And when it cracked—it didn’t cry. It screamed.

---

I pressed my ear to the door again. No footsteps. Just the low hum of silence.

The guard outside hadn’t spoken for hours. But earlier… he had stared. Longer than necessary. His gaze wasn’t like Luca’s — it was weaker. Curious. Foolish.

I knew how to use that.

I’d never used beauty as a weapon. But when you’ve been stripped of your freedom, your pride, your name — even shame becomes a tool.

I let my voice tremble when I knocked.

“Please,” I whispered. “I need help… I’m scared.”

The doorknob clicked. He cracked it open, hesitant.

That’s all I needed.

I leaned against the frame, letting the red dress cling to my body, tears in my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, stepping close. “I just… I don’t want to be alone…”

His eyes flicked to my chest. My thighs.

He let his guard down.

And in the moment he reached out, I grabbed the iron candle stand near the door and slammed it into his head.

He crumpled without a word.

I ran.

---

The night outside bit at my skin. My feet were bare, the gravel tearing into them. I didn’t know where I was going — only that I had to go far.

I ran through alleyways, past shuttered shops, across empty roads.

Hours blurred.

By the time the moon was high, I’d found a half-burned-out warehouse. Abandoned. Quiet. Forgotten.

I collapsed inside and curled against the wall, breathing hard.

For the first time in weeks, I was alone.

Free.

Or so I thought.

---

The world spun as I woke.

There was perfume in the air. Loud bass beneath my skin. A woman’s voice barking orders.

“Wake up, girl! You’ve got work to do.”

My head pounded. My wrists were tied with rope — now cut. But I wasn’t in the street.

I was in a club.

The lights were dark red and gold. Cigarette smoke clung to the air. Outside the door, I could hear drunken laughter and clinking glasses.

The woman in front of me tossed a tiny black dress on the chair.

“Put it on. Now.”

“I—what—where am I—?”

“You think I care?” she snapped. “You’re lucky we don’t sell girls like you to higher bidders. VIP wants you tonight. You serve him. Quiet. Pretty. If you disobey again, you’ll wish you were dead.”

She slapped the wall and left.

I stared at the dress.

It wasn’t a dress. It was a trap made of lace and humiliation.

But I had no choice.

---

The heels were too tall. The straps too tight. The dress barely covered my thighs. But I walked.

Shaking.

A girl shoved me through a set of heavy red curtains into a hallway lined with velvet ropes.

“VIP Room 9,” she said, not meeting my eyes.

I took a breath.

One step. Then another.

And then—

I froze.

Behind the doors, seated on a velvet couch like he ruled the kingdom of sin itself, was Luca.

A cigar burned between his fingers. His legs were spread wide, one arm slung over the back of the couch. His expression was calm. Unbothered.

Like he’d been expecting me all along.

He didn’t even look surprised.

He took a slow drag from his cigar.

Then he smiled.

“Did you enjoy your little adventure, serva?”

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

It curled through the smoke, low and cruel, coating my skin like oil.

I stood frozen in the doorway of the VIP room. The lights behind me flickered in hazy red and gold, making everything shimmer like a dream—no, a nightmare.

He looked like a king.

A devil in designer, leaning back into velvet shadows. His black shirt was open at the collar. His jaw shadowed. One boot rested on the table in front of him. His other hand slowly rotated the cigar between his fingers, smoke curling like a serpent.

And I was the entertainment.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“Come in,” he said lazily. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

I stepped forward. Each heel tap on the floor felt like a nail into my own coffin.

The woman from earlier closed the doors behind me with a click.

Now it was just us.

The room smelled of expensive liquor and smoke. A half-empty glass of amber liquid sat next to him. The lighting was low, meant to hide sins.

And I was wearing a dress that barely covered anything at all.

I stopped a few feet away, refusing to meet his eyes.

Luca tilted his head slightly, as if examining me. Not looking at a person—but a toy he’d found broken, glued back together, and tossed aside… only to pick up again for amusement.

“I thought you were smarter,” he said finally. “But you ran.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“You seduced one of my men, didn’t you?”

I flinched. He knew.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” He chuckled under his breath, dark and deep. “You were still wearing the same red dress I put you in. Running through the streets like a lost pet. What a show you must’ve been.”

His words burned more than the lights.

“You locked me in a room like an animal,” I whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. “And yet you still ended up crawling back to me. How poetic.”

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what?” he snapped suddenly, the calm unraveling. “Didn’t think this was punishment? Didn’t think actions had consequences? Did you think if you cried enough, someone else would save you?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees now. Dangerous.

“You don’t get to run, Ira. Not from me. Not ever.”

I swallowed hard. My knees felt weak.

“You don’t own me,” I whispered.

His eyes darkened.

He stood slowly and walked toward me. Every step was silent. Controlled.

When he reached me, he didn’t touch me.

He just stood so close I could feel the heat radiating from him.

“I don’t own you?” he repeated, voice low. “Then why are you here, dressed like this, shaking in front of me?”

My breath hitched.

“I’ll leave again.”

His hand shot up—not to hit me—but to grip my chin, hard, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“You won’t get a second chance.”

His eyes searched mine, burning with something dangerous. Something that wasn’t quite lust. Not yet. But it was deeper than anger. Twisted and sharp.

“You’re mine, serva. I decide where you go. What you wear. Who sees you. And when I’m done teaching you that—you’ll beg to stay.”

He let my chin go and stepped back.

“Now kneel.”

I stared at him, heart pounding.

“Kneel.”

I dropped to my knees. Slowly. Brokenly.

Just as the door opened behind me again.

The woman entered quietly, head bowed.

“She’s ready, sir.”

Luca gave a single nod. “Good. Let the others see her like this. Maybe then she’ll understand.”

The others?

Before I could speak, th

e woman grabbed my arm and dragged me toward a side door.

I twisted back, trying to meet Luca’s eyes one last time.

But he was already seated again, lighting another cigar — as if none of this mattered.

As if I didn’t.