"Her embrace, his prison"

August 2nd, 2025

At Ruth's villa - 2:30 AM

The door creaked softly as Ruth stepped into the darkened bedroom once again. Her bare feet padded lightly across the polished floor, the silk robe she had worn in the living room draped loosely over her shoulders, nearly falling with every movement.

Her eyes found Ian immediately. Bound, gagged, and half-reclining on the queen-sized bed, he looked up at her with equal parts dread and exhaustion. The scent of her perfume, sweet with lavender and laced with something darker - something unplaceable - drifted toward him.

Her smile widened. Not the smile of a lover, nor even a seductress. It was the smile of obsession, of possession. A twisted blend of love and madness painted across her beautiful face.

"Finally," Ruth whispered, letting the robe slip from her shoulders and fall soundlessly to the floor.

Naked, she stood with complete confidence, unbothered by Ian's horrified stare.

Her body was perfection - an hourglass silhouette carved from flesh and obsession. Her breasts were full, her hips pronounced, her thighs toned.

The gentle sway of her as she walked toward him, slow and predatory, was both alluring and terrifying.

Ian had seen her naked before. He had memorized that body in better times - moments of passion when her love hadn't felt like a prison.

Now, though? Now, every step she took toward him made his chest tighten. His eyes darted away, landing once again on Jayden's body slumped in the chair.

Still bound. Still lifeless. Still bloody.

Ruth followed his gaze and let out a breathy giggle.

"Stop. I said don't worry about that dead body, baby," she purred, tilting her head in mock sympathy. "He's dead, I killed him. It's your fault, because you've forced me. There's nothing really you can do about it."

She climbed onto the bed like a cat stalking prey. The mattress creaked beneath her weight as she approached him on all fours, her hair falling in waves around her flushed face.

"One loose end...," she continued with a faux sigh, "....his bitch escaped. Your bitch, right? That foreign girl? Ellie?"

Ian flinched. Hearing her name from Ruth's lips made his heart seize. But there was no way to respond, not through the gag and not through the hopeless exhaustion that weighed him down.

Ruth leaned closer, pressing her face to his. She inhaled slowly. Deeply.

"God, you smell just like you used to," she moaned softly. "It's intoxicating."

Ian tried to pull back, tried to turn his face away, but she was faster. In a swift, practiced movement, she straddled his hips, pinned his shoulders with her legs, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Her skin was warm. Too warm. It clung to his like a second, suffocating layer.

He felt her heartbeat - fast, erratic, matching the rhythm of her obsession.

"You're mine, Ian," she whispered into his ear. "You were always mine. Even when we drifted away, even when we both I left, even when you tried to forget me, I was there. Every time you kissed some other woman, you thought about me. Every time you fucked other woman, it was me you imagined. Don't lie to yourself."

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. She was wrong. She had to be wrong. But even in the silence of his refusal, he couldn't deny the haunting truth.

A part of him still remembered what it was like to love her. Before all this.

Before madness consumed her.

"Don't fight me," she cooed, rubbing her cheek against his. "Don't lie to me. I know you still love me. I can feel it."

A long silence stretched between them. She tightened her grip, holding him as if afraid he'd vanish. Her body, though sensual in appearance, now felt like a prison cell with skin.

Then, suddenly, she exhaled.

"Damn, I'm too tired," she said, softly. The manic energy in her tone vanished, replaced with something more delicate. Fragile, even. "Let's do it tomorrow night, baby. After I find that foreign slut and deal with her. Then it'll be just us. Forever."

Ian's breathing slowed. He was too worn out to feel relief, too drained to even register anger.

The images of Jayden's corpse, Ruth's naked body, and Ellie's face blurred in his mind like some fever dream.

He didn't respond. He couldn't. The gag was still tight around his mouth.

Ruth nestled against him like a child finding comfort in a beloved teddy bear. Her arms wrapped around his chest. Her legs tangled with his. Her cheek pressed firmly against his shoulder.

"Goodnight, baby," she whispered, as if all was well. "I love you so much."

Minutes passed. Her breathing slowed. Became rhythmic. Sleep had taken her.

Ian lay motionless. Every nerve in his body screamed to move. To escape. But he was too tired. Too broken. His head pounded, his wrists burned, and the taste of blood clung to his tongue where the gag had cut into his lips.

All he could smell was her. Lavender and madness.

He closed his eyes, not out of peace, but because he had no choice.

Darkness claimed him, again.

And beside him, the woman who had once been his lover - now his captor, his nightmare - dreamed peacefully, her arms wrapped around him like a vice of devotion and doom.