Young Alpha Little Mate

CHAPTER 1

In the darkness of the night, Julius sped along the deserted, tarred road that led to his residence. As he approached, the automatic smart gate recognized his car and opened, allowing him access to the compound. He halted before the main entrance of the mansion, where several of his men, all clad in black, awaited his arrival. With a slight smirk on his lips, he waved his hand to dismiss them.

“Leave the car as it is,” he commanded, before striding through a dark hallway leading to the magnificent sitting room of the mansion. In the room stood a one-eyed man named Rufus, who stood rigidly like a statue and bowed upon Julius's entrance.

“Are those the sharpest?” Julius inquired, glancing at a flat box that Rufus held.

“Yes, sir,” Rufus replied.

“Good, come with me,” Julius ordered, and together they made their way to a door situated at the far end of the parlor. The door led into the basement of the mansion, a vast and empty space. They approached a section of the wall to open a hidden door that appeared to blend seamlessly with the surrounding area. Descending the stairs, they journeyed to the deepest part of the underground basement.

Inside, a man was bound to a rusted chair, with a matching table positioned before him. Sweat trickled down the man's disfigured face, and blood continued to drip from injuries he had sustained from brutal whip lashes. He sat there, trembling, his gaze fixed on the bare walls illuminated only by a single hanging bulb. The tension mounted as the door creaked open, revealing his worst nightmare.

Julius entered the room, his earlier smirk replaced by a serious demeanor. He placed the box Rufus had carried onto the rusted table with a resounding thud, intensifying the terror etched on the man's face. Julius's presence was suffocating, and every heartbeat resonated with fear as he bore witness to the impending doom. The atmosphere was thick with menace, and the anticipation of what was to come loomed like a storm cloud overhead.

In that chilling moment, the man, bound and at the mercy of his captor, could only imagine the fate that awaited him—a fate orchestrated by the icy control of Julius and reinforced by the silent authority of Rufus. Their descent into darkness was not just literal but also figurative, signaling a deeper plunge into the sinister world that governed their lives, where mercy was a hollow notion and power was wielded like a weapon.