Chapter 8: Ties That Strangle

A Cage with No Locks

Celeste sat in the leather chair across from Vincent, her spine rigid, every muscle tense. The private office was dimly lit, the golden chandelier above casting elongated shadows that danced across the dark wooden walls.

Vincent leaned back against his desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with those piercing, calculating eyes.

"You don't trust me," he mused, a faint smirk curling on his lips. "Good. You shouldn't."

Celeste said nothing. What was there to say? That she feared him? That every second in his presence felt like balancing on the edge of a knife? He already knew that.

Vincent let the silence linger before he finally spoke again. "You're in my world now, Celeste. And in my world, hesitation is death. If you keep thinking you're just a victim, you'll stay one. If you want to survive, you need to make a choice."

She met his gaze, fire burning in her eyes. "A choice? You mean like the one you gave me when you forced me into this marriage?"

His smirk deepened, but there was something dangerous in his expression. He stepped closer, towering over her. "Oh, that wasn't a choice, Celeste. That was a lesson."

Her hands curled into fists on her lap, nails digging into her palms. She hated him. Hated how effortlessly he pulled at the strings that bound her, how easily he reminded her that she was trapped in his world.

And yet…

Somewhere deep inside, she knew he was right.

Hesitation is death.

Her mother had hesitated before she left. The bruises, the fear, the endless apologies—she had hesitated until it was too late.

Celeste wouldn't make the same mistake.

A Dangerous Invitation

"You want me to survive?" Celeste said, her voice steadier than she expected. "Fine. Teach me."

Vincent raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh? And what exactly do you want me to teach you?"

Celeste swallowed her pride. "How to play your game."

For a moment, Vincent simply watched her, as if assessing the weight of her words. Then, something shifted in his gaze. Approval? Interest? She couldn't tell.

"Very well," he said, stepping away from her. "Let's see if you're ready."

He walked to a hidden compartment in the wall, pressing his hand against a biometric scanner. A soft beep echoed in the silence before the panel slid open, revealing a vault-like safe. Inside, weapons gleamed under the dim light—handguns, knives, even a few stacks of documents.

Vincent reached inside and pulled out a silver knife, its blade curved and wickedly sharp. He twirled it between his fingers effortlessly before holding it out to her.

"Take it," he commanded.

Celeste hesitated for only a fraction of a second before wrapping her fingers around the hilt. The weight of the blade was heavier than she expected, cool against her palm.

Vincent moved behind her, his breath warm against her ear. "Hold it like this," he murmured, his fingers brushing over hers as he adjusted her grip.

A shiver ran down her spine, but she refused to let it show.

"You're not just learning how to fight," he continued. "You're learning how to control."

Celeste exhaled slowly. "And if I refuse to play?"

Vincent chuckled, his fingers tightening around hers. "Then you'll always be a piece on the board instead of the one moving them."

Her grip on the knife tightened.

No more hesitating.

Blood on Her Hands

The lesson didn't end there.

Vincent led her to an underground chamber beneath the mansion—a place she had never seen before. The air was damp, thick with the scent of metal and something more… something darker.

A single chair sat in the center of the room.

A man was tied to it.

His face was battered, blood trickling down his temple. His left eye was swollen shut, and his lip was split. But despite his injuries, his gaze held defiance.

"Meet Gabriel," Vincent said, stepping beside Celeste. "He's a traitor. He stole from my shipments, sold weapons to my enemies. What do you think should happen to him?"

Celeste's throat went dry.

Vincent was testing her.

Gabriel let out a raspy chuckle, spitting blood onto the ground. "You gonna let your pretty little wife do your dirty work now, Vincent?"

Vincent smirked, but his eyes flicked back to Celeste, expectant.

Celeste inhaled sharply, her fingers still wrapped around the knife. Her mind was a storm—rage, fear, defiance, all crashing against each other.

Gabriel was a stranger. She had no reason to pity him. But she also wasn't a murderer.

Vincent leaned in, voice low and smooth. "This is the choice you wanted, Celeste. Show me what you've learned."

The weight of the knife in her hand felt unbearable.

Seconds stretched into eternity.

Then, she took a step forward.

Gabriel's gaze hardened, as if he saw something in her expression—something that made him tense against his restraints.

Celeste pressed the cold blade against his throat.

Her hands didn't shake.

"You're scared," Gabriel muttered.

Celeste tilted her head slightly, the mask of indifference slipping into place. "Am I?"

Vincent's eyes gleamed.

Then, in one swift motion, she lowered the blade. Instead of slicing his throat, she drove the tip into his thigh.

Gabriel howled in pain, his body jerking violently against the restraints. Blood seeped through his pants, staining the chair beneath him.

Celeste didn't flinch.

She turned to Vincent, her expression unreadable. "There. He'll bleed out if you don't treat him. It's your choice now."

For the first time since their marriage, Vincent's smirk disappeared.

A slow, calculating silence filled the room.

Then—laughter. Low at first, then richer, darker.

Vincent clapped his hands once. "Well done, Celeste."

A strange, twisted sense of satisfaction bloomed in her chest.

Not because she had hurt a man.

But because, for the first time, she had made a move on her own terms.

The Chains That Bind

Later that night, Celeste lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The knife still felt like it was in her hands, its weight pressing down on her thoughts.

Vincent had seen something in her today—something he liked. That should have terrified her.

But instead, it made her feel dangerous.

For the first time, she wasn't just surviving.

She was learning how to win.

And in this world of blood, betrayal, and chains—winning was the only way out.

End of Chapter 8.