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Art of Torment: A Captive's Defiance

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 844    |    Released on: 01/07/2025

is possessiveness now cloaked in a veneer of care. He replaced the necklace of broken pencils with a simple g

thought I had chosen hi

ed. It wasn' t a poison, nothing so crude. It was a mild sedative, just enough to cloud his judgment, to fray the edges of his s

he murmured one night, his head resting in my lap a

th a hand that didn' t tremble. It was an act, every touch

allowed me to go to the building' s private art studio, a concession he' d made after I' d "p

ehind a stack of blank canvases, was a bur

' s

Thorne' s voice was smooth, controlled, a

, keeping my voice low. "He' s more pliabl

" Marcus said. "It' s his magnum opus. Security will be tigh

is was never just about saving me. It was

need me to d

with that guard... He paraded you in front of his board the next day." Marcus' s tone shifted, a posses

all the same. He didn' t see me, Scarlett Hayes, the artist. H

said, my voice

' t w

gement. You help me get my life back and ruin him in th

appreciative sound. "Of course. My apologies. You

o, the smell of turpentine sharp in the air. I was walking a

ing for me. The sedative had clearly worn off. His e

a framed sketch, one of my old ones from before he had found

I miss watching you create. I thought if I owned the art

ce was a profoundly broken man, clinging to something he could never truly possess. He was

predator spotting a weakness in its prey. I walked over to him, g

ftly, my mind already plotting my next move. I would use his weakness,

-

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Art of Torment: A Captive's Defiance
Art of Torment: A Captive's Defiance
“The cold, sharp edges of the resin necklace dug into my skin, a constant, physical reminder of Alexander Vance' s twisted grasp. Just hours ago, I, Scarlett Hayes, had almost tasted freedom, only to be dragged back to this gilded cage. He didn't yell, he never did, not at first; his silence was always more terrifying than any scream. "Why do you keep trying to leave?" he would ask, his voice a smooth vibration that set my teeth on edge, entirely oblivious to the torment he inflicted. I longed to tell him that his control was suffocating, or that the fractured pieces of my destroyed art embedded in the necklace were a constant agony. Instead, I met his gaze with a defiant chin, "Maybe I like the exercise." But Alexander Vance was never fooled, not the man who saw me only as a broken bird to be possessed. My wrist still carried the faint scar from the day he broke my drawing hand, a brutal lesson in his twisted love. "Don' t lie to me," he whispered, his thumb pressing down on the mark, "You met with someone. You think there' s a single breath you take in this city that I' m not aware of?" The accusation hung thick and suffocating; he was right – I met Marcus Thorne, his rival, my only hope for escape. But what if my hope was just another cage? What if the man I thought was my savior was just as monstrous and possessive as my captor, seeing me not as a person, but as a prize to be won? The question gnawed at me with chilling certainty, just weeks before Alexander' s grand "Aion Project" launch, a monument built on the ruin of my family' s dreams. This elaborate trap, this calculated play for freedom, was not just about survival anymore. It was about discovering how deep the treachery went.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 10