Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
He only was here to preserve what little he could of his family’s future, even if it meant sacrificing his daughter’s dignity in the most horrific way imaginable. His face as stoic as ever, nodded once. “Precisely.”
“Brutal and genius,” I agreed. By leaving her stripped of anything but her body’s basest function, she would be reduced to the lowest form of existence on the Isle. A fate worse than death for someone who had once held the status of an Impío woman from a decent household. She’d be nothing more than an actual vessel—if she bore a child, that child would be taken from her, raised in the family, while she faded into oblivion.
Phoenix, clearly pleased with the task ahead, turned his attention back to Nicolette, who remained frozen in the chair, her eyes wide with terror, unable to speak or even plead for mercy. It didn’t matter. Mercy wasn’t something anyone in this room had to offer.
“You heard the man,” I said, my voice low and commanding. “Do what needs to be done.”
Theron’s request wasn’t just a sentence for his daughter—it was a reminder to everyone in the room that loyalty, blood, and duty came before anything else on Stygian Isle.
“You may leave.”
Theron nodded in quiet acceptance, his face unreadable as he turned away. The room fell eerily silent as Nicolette’s soft, desperate whimpers filled the space. She looked to her father, her eyes pleading for some last-minute reprieve.
“Dad… please,” she croaked, her voice muffled by fear and desperation.
But Theron didn’t slow. He didn’t even spare her a glance. The heavy door creaked open, and without a word, he exited the chamber, leaving his daughter to face the consequences alone.
“Cold as ice,” Bishop muttered under his breath, his gaze shifting from Theron’s retreating figure back to Nicolette. “I almost feel bad for her.”
Jamison scoffed quietly. “Almost.”
Phoenix moved toward the far wall where an array of tools and protective gear awaited him. He slipped into a black apron, his fingers tracing the edges of the blades and instruments hanging on the wall as if choosing a palette for an artist’s canvas.
“Don’t take too long,” I said evenly, knowing Phoenix tended to lose himself in his work.
He flashed me a grin, his eyes alight with a sadistic glint. “Don’t worry, Diabolus. I’ll be quick but thorough.” He selected a sharp, gleaming blade, its edge catching the dim light of the chamber.
I turned my gaze back to Nicolette. Her body trembled as Phoenix approached, his footsteps slow and deliberate.
She tried to move, tried to twist away from the chair, but her restraints held her firmly in place. Her eyes darted from me to Phoenix, panic clouding her features.
"Please," she whimpered, her voice cracking. “I’ll do anything. Don’t… please, don’t.”
I stepped closer, crouching slightly so that I was at eye level with her. I wanted her to see that this wasn’t something I’d do lightly. “You made your choices, Nicolette,” I said calmly, watching her flinch at the coldness in my tone. “Now, you face the consequences. Phoenix will take care of what’s left of you.”
Her breath hitched, a sob breaking free as she tugged against the restraints. “No, no, no—.”
Ignoring her, I straightened and stepped back to watch as my friend stepped up beside me.
Her breathing quickened as he crouched beside her, his gloved hand reaching out to tilt her face upward. He had done this many times before, and to him, it was just another canvas to work on.
"Let’s begin," Phoenix said softly, his voice betraying none of the coldness behind his actions. His free hand traced along her skin, savoring the last untouched part of her before he started. Then, with a swift, precise motion, he made the first cut—clean and deliberate—just below her collarbone. Nicolette’s body convulsed, a scream tearing from her throat, an animalistic cry of pain.
Her head thrashed side to side, hair damp with sweat and tears, but Phoenix remained unfazed. His movements were precise, detached, as if he had already distanced himself from the carnage. He was turning her body into something far less than human, a twisted form that her father could use to redeem his family’s honor.
I stepped closer, watching as Phoenix moved down her arm.
He traced the curve of her bone beneath the skin, pressing the tip of the scalpel into her flesh. Nicolette screamed again, a high-pitched wail that echoed off the chamber walls. Her body jerked violently against the restraints, trying to pull away from the blade, but it was useless. The sound of her agony filled the room, but it didn’t faze any of us.
With a quick, deliberate motion, Phoenix dislocated her shoulder, the pop of bone snapping out of place causing her to scream louder, hoarse now, her voice nearly breaking. He continued his work, severing her arm with a few swift, deep strokes, cutting through muscle. The limb hit the ground with a dull thud, and her cries turned into gasping, ragged breaths, punctuated by sobs of pure agony.