Chapter 3: Mercy and Power Plays

Next to Marcus’s tall, muscled frame, Lillian looked tiny, almost fragile. She wore a faded cardigan over a sundress—pure Midwest, the kind of softness that gets girls eaten alive in this city. Her blond hair glowed under the harsh lights, a little patch of sunlight in a dungeon.

A wild stallion and a trembling bunny, straight out of a backyard storybook.

The image was almost funny, but I knew the crowd in my head was rooting for her. They loved an underdog, especially one with watery eyes and a backbone made of hope.

After Lillian showed up, the comments were all hearts for her, pitchforks for me.

I dropped my eyes to the blood on my crop, unfazed. Mercy was a luxury here. My inner peanut gallery never let me forget it.

"Big sister, I beg you—let him go."

Her words rang out, stubborn and bright. Lillian was always the one patching up strays, mending wings—guess now that included chained-up prisoners.

"I’ll pay any price. Just let him go."

She stood between us, voice trembling but jaw set.

Behind her, Marcus’s amber eyes burned through me, fierce and ungrateful. In his eyes, there was only me—the threat, the tormentor.

Suddenly, I laughed. The sound echoed, dark and a little wild. The guards fidgeted, uncomfortable.

Lillian’s face went pale, like she might shatter. The comments were right: I was the villain queen, doomed and giving her the perfect shot at sainthood.

If I’m going down, let’s all go down together.

"Tonight, I’m not picking a man to serve me."

I circled Lillian, catching a whiff of her shampoo—vanilla, sweet, out of place in this basement.

I stepped on Marcus’s tense thigh, ignoring the fresh wounds. My heel dug in, a reminder of who called the shots.

My fingers wrapped around the iron chain at his neck, dragging him to my feet. He didn’t fight, but his body vibrated with tension, ready to explode.

"This one suits my taste."

My words cut through Lillian’s resolve.

"He’ll serve me tonight."

Marcus’s eyes were pure fury—a caged animal.

Lillian froze, eyes wide. "No! Pick someone else—you can’t touch him!"

Her voice wobbled, fear and desperation raw in the air.

I lifted Marcus’s chin, feeling his hot breath through the muzzle. He was danger and temptation, everything I’d been warned against. Good thing I never listened.

"If I want him, I’ll have him. Who are you to stop me?"

My words slammed shut any argument. Even the guards averted their eyes.

"Someone, clean him up and send him to my room. And if he’s not spotless, you’re all on report. My father will hear about it."

My voice was all ice and steel. No one dared refuse.