chapter 6

The scent of cigar smoke and expensive cologne hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Liana knelt on the cold marble floor, her wrists bound behind her back, the bruises on her skin blending into the dim lighting of the underground chamber. Her heartbeat was a caged animal, thrashing violently in her chest, but she kept her face blank. She had learned that much, at least—showing fear only made them hungry for more.

The room was lavish, filled with men and women dressed in silk suits and flowing gowns, their jewelry glinting under the golden chandeliers. Their laughter was soft, elegant, yet dripping with venom. They weren't ordinary criminals. These were the elite—politicians, businessmen, old money with darker secrets than the ones they paraded in the press. And tonight, they were here for her.

Valic Drevon sat in a leather chair, legs crossed, swirling a glass of blood-red wine. He was always relaxed, always calm, the kind of predator who didn't need to show his fangs to be feared. Next to him, his father, Anton Drevon, wore his usual expression of quiet amusement, his fingers drumming lazily on the armrest.

"Gentlemen and ladies," Valic spoke, his voice smooth as silk. "Tonight, we have a special attraction." He gestured lazily toward Liana without even looking at her. "A fine little creature, isn't she?"

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd. A man in a white suit leaned forward, his gold-ringed fingers tapping against his chin. "How long has she lasted?"

"Three years," Anton answered, sipping from his glass. "Longer than most."

A woman with sharp cheekbones and a cruel smile smirked. "Three years? Then she must be broken by now."

Valic chuckled, setting his wine down. He stood, strolling toward Liana with slow, deliberate steps. "Oh no, not yet. She still fights." He crouched in front of her, tilting his head. "Tell them, pet. Have you given up?"

Liana's jaw clenched. The truth was, she was tired. So damn tired. But if she said yes, he would punish her for lying. If she said no, he would punish her for defiance. Either way, she would lose.

She didn't answer.

Valic's lips curled. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "She's still got fire. That's why she's valuable."

He let go abruptly, turning back to the crowd. "Now, let's make things interesting." He snapped his fingers, and a masked guard stepped forward, carrying a silver tray covered with a velvet cloth. When he pulled it back, an object was revealed—a thin, red leather collar, embroidered with small metallic studs.

"The Red Collar," Anton announced, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes. "An old family tradition."

Liana stared at it, her stomach turning.

"This collar," Valic continued, picking it up and running a finger over the leather, "comes with a special feature." He pressed a small button on the side, and a faint crackling sound filled the air. An electric charge. Small, but painful enough to break even the strongest.

"The game is simple," Anton said. "Each of you will place your bets. How long until she submits completely? How long until she begs for mercy?"

Liana felt her breath hitch. This wasn't a sale. They weren't getting rid of her.

This was a gamble.

The guests laughed, raising their glasses. Bets were placed—some said a month, others a year. The cruel woman from earlier tilted her head. "I give her two months before she forgets she was ever anything but a pet."

Liana's nails dug into her palms.

Valic walked back to her, lifting the collar. "Let's see if she can beat the odds."

He fastened it around her neck, the leather snug against her throat. The cold metal studs pressed into her skin. The moment the clasp clicked into place, a soft beep sounded.

Then—pain.

A sudden jolt shot through her, sharp and blinding. Her body stiffened as white-hot agony spread from her neck to her spine. She bit down on her lip, refusing to cry out. The pain lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity before it faded, leaving her breathless.

The room erupted into applause.

Valic smiled down at her. "You'll learn soon, Liana. This is your new reality."

She gasped for air, hatred burning behind her eyes.

No.

She would never submit.

And one day, she would make them all pay.

The walls were white. Blindingly, endlessly white.

Liana sat curled in the farthest corner of the room, knees pulled to her chest, her breath shallow. There was no bed, no furniture, nothing but the seamless walls, the smooth floor, and the unblinking camera in the ceiling's corner. No doors. At least, none she could see.

The moment Valic had fastened the red collar around her neck, he had tested its limits—shocking her whenever he felt like it, laughing when she flinched but refused to scream. He had paraded her through the halls, ensuring every servant, every guard, every twisted guest at the Drevon estate saw her new symbol of ownership.

Then, when she spat at his feet instead of bowing, he had dragged her here.

"Time for a lesson," he had murmured before shoving her inside. "You'll learn what true nothingness feels like."

Then the door had sealed, vanishing into the wall.

At first, she thought he'd return in a few hours. A day, at most.

Then time stretched.

The light never dimmed. There were no windows, no clocks, no sounds. Even her own breath seemed too quiet in the void. She didn't know how long she had been here—hours, days? Her stomach gnawed at itself, but she wasn't starving yet. Her throat was dry, but not deadly so. They wanted her alive. But barely.

She tried to keep count of time, tracing invisible numbers on the floor. She whispered old songs, old prayers. But the silence swallowed her words whole.

Then the hallucinations began.

At first, it was soft. A brush of sound against the edges of her mind.

"…Liana…"

She lifted her head sharply. Her pulse spiked.

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

"Mother?" she croaked, her own voice foreign to her ears.

The whispers curled around her, laughter and sobs tangled together.

"You let me die," the voice wept. "You didn't run fast enough."

Liana pressed her hands over her ears, shaking her head. "No, no, no—you're not real."

But the walls seemed to breathe. The whiteness shimmered, twisting into shapes. A dark figure loomed in the corner, just out of sight. A shadow of someone she knew was dead.

Her mother's broken, pleading eyes.

"Shut up," Liana rasped.

The figure smiled. "You'll never be free."

The red collar tightened.

A harsh buzz filled the room. Then, a hidden panel in the wall slid open.

Liana squinted against the sudden contrast—beyond the doorway, the world was dark. A silhouette stepped inside.

Valic.

He was dressed in a crisp black suit, looking untouched by time or guilt. He carried a silver tray with a single glass of water and a small plate of food. The scent of warm bread and seasoned meat wafted toward her. Her stomach clenched painfully.

"Tell me, pet," he said smoothly, setting the tray on the floor between them. "How long do you think you've been here?"

Liana swallowed. Her lips were cracked. "…I don't know."

His smirk widened. "Five days."

Her heart stuttered. Five? No—no, it couldn't be.

"Impressive, isn't it? The mind unravels so quickly in isolation." He tilted his head. "Tell me—have you started hearing voices yet?"

Liana forced herself to look at him, rage burning away the haze in her mind. "Go to hell."

His expression didn't change. "Perhaps. But first—eat." He nudged the tray toward her with his polished shoe.

Liana hesitated.

"Ah," Valic chuckled, amused. "You think it's poisoned?" He picked up the glass of water, took a slow sip, then placed it back down. "Satisfied?"

She hated him. She hated how her body betrayed her, how the hunger clawed at her insides, how the thirst screamed louder than her pride.

Liana reached out, fingers trembling. The moment she grasped the glass, a sharp zap crackled through her collar.

Pain exploded in her neck. She choked, dropping the glass, water splashing across the floor.

Valic sighed dramatically. "Tsk. You forgot to ask permission." He crouched down, gripping her chin with cold fingers. "Say it, pet. Please, Master Valic, may I eat?"

Liana's breath shuddered.

He was pushing her. Testing her limits.

Her nails dug into her palms.

She lifted her chin—defiant. "I'd rather starve."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Valic's lips.

"Good," he whispered. "Then let's see how long you last."

He picked up the tray, turned, and walked out.

The door sealed shut, plunging her back into endless white.

Liana had been in the Drevon estate for years, but there were places even she had never seen. The Trophy Room was one of them.

The guards dragged her through the hallways, her wrists bound in front of her. Her body ached from days without food, her muscles weak from the time spent in the isolation chamber. But her mind—her mind was still sharp. She refused to let them break her.

They reached a set of heavy iron doors. One of the guards pressed his palm against a scanner, and with a soft beep, the locks disengaged. The doors creaked open, revealing the dimly lit room beyond.

The air was cold. Too cold.

Liana's stomach twisted.

Valic stood in the center of the room, dressed in his usual crisp black suit, a glass of wine in hand. The light from the chandelier above cast eerie shadows on his face.

"Welcome, pet," he said smoothly, gesturing around them. "This is my favorite room in the estate."

Liana lifted her chin, refusing to acknowledge the unease crawling up her spine.

Then she saw them.

Glass cases lined the walls, each containing something different. A torn scarf. A bloodstained watch. A rusted knife. A single earring.

Trophies.

Her pulse pounded.

"These," Valic continued, sipping his wine, "belonged to the ones who came before you."

Liana's throat tightened.

She stepped closer to one of the cases. Inside was a faded pink hair ribbon, delicate and frayed at the edges. Beneath it, a name was etched into a gold plaque: Ilyana Kross. Five years.

Liana's fingers curled into fists. Five years. That was how long Ilyana had survived before—before what?

Her gaze flicked to another case. A man's leather wallet. Darius Vahn. Two years.

A silver chain with a locket. Elena Graves. Eight months.

A small stuffed rabbit. Mira Solis. Six years.

Liana's breath came faster. Six years. Someone had lasted six years.

"What happened to them?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Valic smiled. "Take a guess."

Liana's stomach turned.

"Some were sold," he continued casually. "Some outlived their usefulness. Some tried to escape and…" He gestured vaguely. "Well, you've heard the stories."

Liana clenched her jaw. She had. She had heard the whispers of bodies dumped in back alleys. Of accidents that weren't really accidents. Of the River of Death swallowing people whole.

She turned back to the cases, her heart hammering.

Then she saw it.

A case at the very end of the room. Different from the others. Larger.

Inside, displayed like some grotesque work of art—was a bloodstained dress.

Liana's breath hitched.

She recognized it.

Her mother's dress.

A cold, sharp ache sliced through her chest.

She remembered that dress. It was the one her mother had worn the night she was taken. The night Liana had been ripped away from her. The fabric was dark with old bloodstains, but she knew. She knew.

Valic watched her, his smile widening.

"I wondered if you'd notice that one," he mused.

Liana couldn't breathe.

Her fingers twitched, itching to grab the case, to rip the glass apart, to—

"You took her," she rasped, her voice shaking with rage. "You killed her."

Valic tilted his head. "I don't recall the details," he said lazily. "But does it matter? She's gone."

Liana's vision blurred with fury.

She launched at him.

The guards reacted instantly, grabbing her arms, forcing her down. She struggled, thrashing, but her body was too weak.

Valic crouched in front of her, his expression amused.

"There it is," he murmured. "The fire." He reached out, tracing a gloved finger along the edge of her jaw. "I was starting to worry you'd lost it."

Liana bared her teeth.

He chuckled. "You're still clinging to the past, pet. But you should be thanking me."

Liana spat at him.

The slap came fast. Sharp. Pain bloomed across her cheek.

The guards tightened their grip.

Valic sighed, standing. "Take her back to her room."

The guards dragged her away. Liana's gaze stayed locked on the case, on the dress.

Rage burned inside her.

She would remember every name in this room. Every trophy. Every horror.