Their Wife

I gradually arose from the deep slumber, my senses were instantly assaulted by the uncomfortable sensation of a relentless pounding within my skull, accompanied by an unsettling queasiness in the depths of my stomach. The room around me seemed engulfed in a cloak of darkness, shrouding every object and corner beyond my limited field of vision.

In that disorienting moment, confusion cast its shadow upon my consciousness, preventing any recollection of the events that had recently transpired. As my groggy mind grappled with the disorientation, a flicker of worry ignited within me, igniting a fear I may have surrendered once again to unconsciousness without any conscious understanding of my actions.

My eyes widened involuntarily, as if attempting to compensate for the obscured environment that held me prisoner. Grasping at fleeting fragments of fragmented memory, I strained to piece together the puzzle of my current predicament. Killian. I was so terrified that I just laid there. Shaking. My scared eyes looked around finding a modern version of the royal bedroom.

The mattresses were soft under me with a comfortable comforter covering my body. But I couldn’t feel any clothes on my body, just the softness of cotton sheets against my alert skin.

I couldn’t feel any pain, did that mean they didn’t violate me? Yet. Tears burned my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. I sit up slowly, holding the sheets against my chest. My heart rate picked up when I saw a wide large mirror standing tall in front of the bed. I could view myself, hairs dishevelled, eyes wide as deer caught in red light, and an ugly large bruise on the left side of my neck where Ralph plunged the needle. Swinging my feet on the floor, I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.

My gaze fell on the water bottle on the nightstand. But I couldn’t bring myself to drink it. It might be drugged. Despite the shuddering in my limbs, I managed to tie the sheet around my chest covering whatever I could. My heart gave an uneven thumb as a gasp left my mouth making me stumble several steps backwards as my hand moved to cover my mouth. My wide eyes looked at the wall behind me covered with large portraits of…me. Red and black.

It shouldn’t startle me, but it did. Cause some of them were lewdly drawn. If you have no idea about Ralph Romano–consider yourself lucky among a limited amount of people, cause Ralph Romano’s disaster. A living alive spawn of satan–no–the devil himself. He paint with blood and conveys screams in his paintings, he was a world-renowned artist respected by many as well as feared. Including me. I hated him. The anger mixed with panic, and I was able to think.

I realised I was never alone, they were always there, hiding in the dark watching over me like a predator waiting for a moment to capture me between their claws. Moving away, I carefully looked around finding nothing that could be advantageous. It was filled with expensive and pleasant to the eyes. Money. For some reason, it scared me. They were criminals with impassive amounts of money. My bare feet touched the ground–smooth and cold to the touch, like marble. My heart jumped several beats at the sudden sound of the door opening. A soft light came in, even though it was not bright, I was blinded by it. I blinked a few times, adjusting my eyes. And I saw him.

Another monster.

Alexei Volkov.

 He stood in the doorway like a Dark Angel. His hair curled a little around his face, softening the sharp angles of his seductive masculinity. His eyes were trained on my face his lips curled in a slight smirk. He was stunning. And utterly terrifying. My instincts were right–they found me.

“Hello, Rara.” He said softly, coming into the room. I casted a frantic glimpse around the room. I took a deep breath and forced my muscles to relax. But my body was not hearing, my heart was full-on galloping, and my hands starting to quiver. They had me in their grasp and nothing, no one could save me. Like a demon mustered, Alexei stood in front of me, a cruel smile on his lips scared the daylight out of me.

 “W-what are you doing here?” I hated my voice was trembling and my hands were frantically clasping at the edges of the sheets as if I were a pristine lassie. Which I was. They’ve ensured that. The cruel curve of Alexei’s lips exacerbated, dark amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes.

“It’s my house.”