I turned to him with a jolt, seeking—something.Anything.
A flicker of regret?A plea for understanding?
But his face was a wall, his expression unreadable.
Still, his grip on me lingered—a contradiction in itself.
My stomach churned, revulsion rising like bile.I forced my gaze back to my father, and then—the horror twisted deeper.
His arousal strained against the front of his trousers, a grotesque testament to the pleasure he took in this brutality.
Sickness crawled up my throat.
“This is disgusting,” I spat, my voice barely above a whisper.“To see my father beating someone without mercy is?—”
I couldn’t finish.
Because before I could speak another word, another victim was dragged into view.
A woman—perhaps in her forties—was yanked forward by her hair, her feet barely catching the stone floor as she stumbled into the dim light.
She was battered but unbowed, her spirit not yet broken despite the constant tide of anguish that surrounded her.
“Here’s another plaything, Thomas,” the man sneered, shoving her at my father’s feet.
Her body crumpled to the stone floor with a sickening thud, her breath ragged as she fought against the weight of her fate.
I couldn’t breathe.
Twin pools of sadistic pleasure gleamed in their eyes—hungry, soulless voids that drank in her suffering with relish.My father paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over her trembling form, before indulging himself in the moment, savoring the power he wielded over her existence.
Then, with infuriating ease, he selected his next tool—a whip, its leather coils winding around his palm like a living thing.The weapon sang through the air, striking her bare skin with a crack that echoed through the chamber.
Her scream ripped through the oppressive gloom, a visceral, shattering sound that should have left no heart untouched.
And yet, it only fueled them.
My father’s voice was calm, disturbingly casual, as if discussing the weather rather than orchestrating a scene of unspeakable horror.
“You’re a filthy fucking Timeborne.You’re going to have sex with this man while I destroy you.”
His words, spoken with chilling nonchalance, struck harder than the whip itself.
The urge to flee clawed at my insides, a desperate cry of self-preservation tearing through my mind.Every instinct urged me to run, to erase this moment from my memory before it could consume me whole.
Yet—somewhere deep within me, something colder, deadlier, began to take shape.
A vow.
A seed of rebellion planted in the soil of my father’s atrocities.
This empire of suffering that my family had built…
It would fall.
But not yet.
Not today.
