The young Master's little prey

CHAPTER 1

In the shroud of night, the young and striking Master of Jones accelerated his car along a deserted, darkened road leading to his private estate. A self-satisfied smirk adorned his handsome visage, but his expression also conveyed a deadly aura that sent chills through the air around him with every mile he passed. As he neared his grand mansion, the automatic smart gate recognized his vehicle, swinging open to grant him access to the expansive grounds. He came to a stop in front of the mansion, where a contingent of strong men dressed in black stood vigilantly, awaiting his arrival and With a hint of amusement reflected on his lips, he stepped out of his car and approached the imposing entrance.

As he moved towards the mansion, a few younger boys appeared, seemingly ready to take his belongings from him. He dismissively waved them off, instructing, "Leave the car as it is," before he confidently strode down a dimly lit hallway that ultimately led to the mansion's splendid sitting room. Within the room stood a one-eyed man named Rufus, who greeted Julius with a formal bow, his stance rigid as a statue amidst the ambiance.

"Are those the sharpest?" Julius queried, moving closer to Rufus and glancing at the flat box the one-eyed man held.

"Yes, sir," Rufus replied respectfully.

"Good, come with me," Julius commanded, guiding Rufus toward a door at the far end of the parlor. This door led into the basement of the mansion, an expansive and hollow area. As they navigated through the basement, they approached a concealed door that blended with the wall, masking any indications of its existence. They descended the stairs into the deepest recesses of the underground space.

Inside, the atmosphere turned grim as they found a man secured to a rusted chair, his body bound and positioned before a matching table. Sweat dripped from the man's disfigured face while blood oozed from his wounds, remnants of a vicious whipping that had left him trembling. His haunted gaze was fixated on the stark, empty walls that surrounded him, dimly lit by an isolated bulb hanging overhead. The air grew heavy with the tension, amplified by the creaking noise of the door as it slowly swung open, revealing the man's greatest terror.

Julius entered the dimly lit room, his playful smirk now replaced by an aura of seriousness that filled the space with an unsettling tension. He harshly placed the box from Rufus onto the rusted table to give out a loud thud , the sound reverberating ominously and amplifying the fear etched across the face of the bound man before him. The atmosphere was thick with dread and suspense, mirroring a storm cloud that seemed to hover ominously overhead. Every tick of the clock and heartbeat echoed the man's rising panic as he contemplated the fate that awaited him, entirely under the control of his captor, Julius, and the silent enforcement by Rufus at his side. They had plunged deep into a world devoid of mercy, where power was ruthlessly exercised.

"Si...ir" the man stammered, barely able to speak as his throat was raw from desperate cries and pleas. Julius opened the flat box, revealing an array of sharp knives that glinted menacingly in the dim light. Locking his gaze onto the terrified captive, he inquired chillingly, "How would you prefer your fingers, sliced or crushed?" Choosing a cleaver that gleamed with malevolence, he began to advance toward the man. However, his intention was interrupted by the abrupt beeping from his phone, causing an annoyance that quickly transitioned into an unsettling smile as he read a message from his grandmother.

"Consider yourself lucky to avoid your fate for another night," he remarked coldly as he sheathed the cleaver back into the box. Turning to Rufus, he commanded, "You can take a break now; he should understand the severity of his situation soon enough." With a satisfied nod, Julius exited to refresh himself before driving out of the estate, heading to the Jones residence, his family's home.

Meanwhile, not far from this dark scene, Judith found herself standing absent-mindedly outside a grand building-an esteemed fashion institution where she had apprenticed and had recently applied for a fashion pageant.

Clutching a hefty brown envelope, she cast a wistful eye toward her car parked across the narrow road, grappling with reluctance to return home. An oppressive truth loomed over her: the reality that she might soon find herself homeless. Her father, Robert Wilson, had drained all joy from living at the Wilson residence, having orchestrated her impending marriage to Charles Bleiz, a man notorious for his ruthlessness, completely disregarding her desires. To worsen matters, her stepmother ensured that the little comfort Judith could derive from her home life was systematically stripped away, each day becoming an exercise in agony.

The only reprieve Judith clung to was the bittersweet memory of her biological mother, Elizabeth Wilson, who stood as a beacon of hope and warmth amidst her relentless turmoil. As she lingered by the imposing building, shadows danced around her, reflecting her inner conflict and yearning for escape. Each tick of the clock seemed to drape her more heavily in despair; the anticipation of an uncertain future weighed on her heart, urging her to take a stand against the suffocating circumstances laid out by her father and the threats looming on her horizon. Desperation brewed within her, marked by the dying flicker of hope that perhaps, through fashion, she could carve out a life that was truly her own, despite the oppressive control of those around her.

Judy was trapped in a precarious situation, caught between the oppressive demands of her father and the suffocating choice presented to her: marry Charles Bleiz or face disownment. The ramifications of homelessness loomed large in her mind, fueled by her sheltered upbringing. Her only glimmer of hope lay in the forthcoming fashion pageant-a chance to redefine her life. As she mentally prepared for this pivotal moment, exhaustion clouded her thoughts, compelling her to seek a moment of rest. She made her way to her car, knowing the day ahead would be crucial in determining her place in the competition.

However, as she immersed herself in her reflections, the world around her faded into the background. She became oblivious to her surroundings while considering the immense pressure of the upcoming pageant, which could dictate her future. In a twist of fate, she failed to notice a speeding vehicle hurtling towards her, an ominous presence in the otherwise still night.

The tranquility of the evening shattered abruptly when the sound of screeching tires broke through Judy's thoughts, drawing her back to reality. Dazed by the sudden intrusion, she found herself paralyzed, her gaze fixed on the blinding headlights of the approaching car, which rendered everything else invisible to her.

Behind the wheel was Julius, a man known for his ruthless reputation. He braked sharply, taken aback by the sight of the petite blonde woman seemingly unaware of the danger looming before her. Despite his often cold disposition, he adhered to a personal code that prohibited him from harming innocents. This guiding principle led him to question the rationale behind Judy's perilous position in the road. As he honked his horn in a frantic bid to alert her, his calls echoed through the silence of the night, but the blonde-haired woman remained ensnared in her stupor, unresponsive to the mounting urgency.

In desperation, as his annoyance grew and time slipped away, Julius honked again and again, each sound a desperate plea for her to move. Yet, Judy sat transfixed, oblivious to any potential danger, lost in a tempest of thought. With no regard for the pressing circumstances awaiting him-specifically, a grandmother anxiously waiting at home-Julius ultimately abandoned patience and decided to take action. He exited his vehicle, driven by a blend of irritation and concern, to physically move the strange lady out of his way.