~Sunsine~

"Where are you, Francis?" Max inquired, a hint of impatience in his tone.

Francisco's response was unexpected, and Max's eyes grew heavy and droopy as he tried to process it.

"I'm lying in bed," came the answer, the words tinged with an unusual weariness.

Max was bewildered.

"In bed? Aren't you coming here?" he asked, his confusion apparent.

"What?" Max muttered in a startled manner. "Are you alright?" His voice trembled with a mixture of surprise and worry, unable to fathom the sudden change in Francisco's demeanor.

Francisco remained silent for a moment, leaving Max hanging in suspense.

Then, in a voice that was unsettlingly calm, Francisco revealed his disturbing instructions. "Push him anti-seizure drugs before tossing him in front of his boss's house."

"I know what to do now," Max replied.

"But are you okay, or are you with Emily now?" He sought some clarity, hoping to understand the source of this disturbing change in his friend's character.

Francisco's response was terse, offering no solace. "Do you think I will allow her to stay in my room?"

He tried to smile, a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, and cast a sidelong glance at Diana. However, the look he received in return was stern, filled with a combination of apprehension and uncertainty.

"Okay, I get this. But what happened? Are you hurt or something?" His genuine worry hung in the air, waiting for an explanation.

However, before Francisco could respond, Max's senses tingled with suspicion. His eyes narrowed, and he swiftly moved the phone away from his ear. Francisco's line abruptly went dead, leaving Max exasperated.

"Push the drugs on him," Max muttered with a resigned sigh, his determination to follow through on their plan unwavering.

Turning to Bruce, who remained restrained, Max knelt down in front of him, his voice dripping with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "You are lucky, buddy, that Francis isn't in the mood to come here," Max remarked, his words laced with a chilling undercurrent.

Bruce's defiance remained intact, and he challenged Max with an air of resignation. "Now what? Kill me now?" He taunted, his voice heavy with defiance.

Max's response was chillingly sinister. "No... no. We won't kill you. We will give you a tiny dosage to help you relax." A wicked grin crossed his face, revealing the depths of the darkness that had enveloped him.

Bruce's eyes widened in terror as he processed the malevolent intent in Max's actions. He cried out in desperation, "What exactly are you trying to do?" Panic laced his voice, but it seemed as though no one was willing to answer.

With every fiber of his being, Bruce shouted, "Stop it!" as he realized the dire nature of his situation. His pleas for mercy went unanswered, drowning in a sea of heartlessness.

Diana, sensing the urgency of the situation, approached with a determination to intervene. As she neared Bruce, he made a desperate attempt to escape, his body writhing in a futile struggle. But Diana was quick and determined, pushing an injection into his trembling form. Bruce let out a brief, gut-wrenching scream before slowly succumbing to the effects of the sedative, slipping into a deep and dreamless sleep.

With an expressionless face, Diana declared, "It's done." Her unwavering commitment to the plan was evident, even as the consequences of their actions began to weigh heavily on the room.

Max, satisfied with the success of their sinister plot, turned his attention to his loyal men. He gave them a command that was both chilling and unsettling. "Now throw him into James's house."

The men nodded in compliance, scooping up the unconscious Bruce with practiced ease. As they left the dimly lit cell, the echo of Bruce's pitiful cries resonated, a haunting reminder of the depths of depravity they had sunk into.

But Max's focus shifted suddenly as he noticed Diana making her exit from the room. His hand shot out, firmly grasping her waist. Diana's expression remained calm but curious as she turned to face him.

"What are you doing, Max?" she inquired, her arched brows revealing the intrigue and uncertainty that simmered beneath the surface.

The room crackled with tension as Max confronted Diana. His voice was stern, and his eyes were unwavering as he demanded answers.

"Diana, why are you messing with my thoughts? Who was that doctor?"

The air between them thickened with accusations and unresolved questions.

Diana's response was unyielding, her own eyes narrowing as she retorted, "Am I messing with your thoughts? Furthermore, you have no right to meddle in my personal affairs, Max." Her tone conveyed a mix of frustration and determination, signaling her refusal to be questioned about her actions.

Max's anger flared, his patience wearing thin. He pushed Diana against the wall, his voice carrying the weight of his frustration as he asked, "Is it interfering?"

Max, determined to understand, continued, "Do you think I don't have the right to ask?" His voice seethed with frustration and determination to unearth the truth.

Diana's struggle to maintain her composure was evident, and she fought to release his hold on her.

Max's grip tightened as he pushed back, his anger unabated.

"No, you don't have any rights," Diana yelled, their voices clashing in a cacophony of emotions.

Max's anger swelled in response to Diana's defiance. He couldn't bear to be challenged any longer. Fueled by a mix of emotions, he asserted, "I have rights over you."

In an impulsive, forceful act, Max captured Diana's lips in a heated kiss, his dominance asserting itself in the most primal way. Diana initially attempted to resist, but Max's overpowering hold compelled her to part her lips in reluctant submission.

However, the moment of passion was quickly shattered when Diana, driven to her limit, bit down on Max's tongue. He halted abruptly, a surprised grimace marring his features, though he refused to release his grip on her.

Their gazes locked, an unspoken power struggle simmering beneath the surface. Max, his lips bruised and tingling from the bite, murmured softly as he touched her slightly swollen mouth.

"I can't imagine you dating anyone," he confessed, the intensity of their connection overpowering the tension that had simmered between them.

To be continued.