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 had to have these things specially delivered to the Isle, ensuring that my comforts were always met. The abundance was overwhelming, in a way that had unsettled me at first. It was yet another reminder of the lengths he went to for me. At the back of the pantry was a large steel door I had noticed but never cared enough to explore. I had been told it was a walk-in freezer, but I never had a reason to go inside.
Now, as we approached it, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. Alexander paused, standing in front of the door as he punched in a code. “Your birthday,” he said casually, glancing at me with that knowing smile. “It used to be, at least. Now it’s the day I brought you home.”
I stared at him, the words hanging in the air like a cruel reminder. The day he kidnapped me. There was no malice in his voice, only fact, but that didn’t make it any easier to digest. The memory lingered like a dark cloud, one I tried to push away, but the truth of it remained. There was still a flicker of anger inside me, a resentment that smoldered quietly beneath the surface. How could I forget what he’d done? How he had torn me from my life, from everything I knew, without hesitation or mercy. Yet, I felt a strange sense of calm being near him. I wasn’t even sure how long I had been with him anymore. Days had melted into weeks, maybe months.
Time had become a blur. It felt like forever. My old life, days spent working long shifts, juggling multiple jobs just to make ends meet—seemed like a distant memory. That life had been hard, and exhausting, but at least it had been mine. Now, I lived in luxury, surrounded by the finest things, my every need attended to. Even with all of that, I wasn’t free.
“Will I ever work again?” I asked quietly, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.
Alexander raised an eyebrow as he pushed the heavy door open, the cool air from the walk-in freezer brushing against my skin. “Never,” he replied with a small grin, stepping inside and pulling me with him. The smile wasn’t mocking, but it was clear that my question amused him. “You will have certain responsibilities for the Isle as my bride and Electi, their Diaboli, but think of that more as being on a committee.”
He looked at me, his eyes gleaming with that familiar possessiveness.
“Your days, my beautiful deliciae,” he intoned, “is to be spent enjoying the privileges of this life, spending my money, submitting to me, indulging in endless pleasure. And, of course, deciding what you want your life to look like by my side.”
His grin widened, that dangerous edge always lurking just beneath the surface. “And soon enough, you’ll have our child to look after.”
His words sent a ripple of something through me—anticipation, fear, or maybe both. The way he spoke, our future together were already decided, was both comforting and suffocating in equal measure. Part of me couldn’t help but feel a dark sense of security in the future he laid out. The thought of a child, which should have terrified me, was now inevitable. Just as everything with Alexander had become.
We stepped deeper into the freezer, the icy air wrapping around. The cold made the hairs on my arms stand on end, but it wasn’t just the temperature that made me shiver. The entire room was meticulously organized, each shelf lined with precision. The front of the freezer was stocked with fresh produce—vibrant vegetables and fruits, all artfully arranged, the picture of normalcy.
“Take a look,” Alexander encouraged, his voice calm, almost gentle.
That was a warning sign if there ever was one. I moved further in, my eyes drifting from the produce toward the back of the freezer, where the real stock was stored. There were premium cuts of wagyu beef, perfectly sealed, and top-shelf pork that would rival anything served in a five-star restaurant. And then my gaze landed on something else. Between the familiar cuts, I saw packages labeled in a way that made my stomach twist violently.
FEM. ADOLESCENT, 16, RIGHT THIGH.
MASC. 32, RIB CUT.
The words were stark, clinical, written in clean, precise handwriting as if the horror of what was inside these vacuum-sealed packages was nothing unusual.
But it wasn’t normal.
It couldn’t be.
My breath caught in my throat as I took in more of the labels:
MASC. 24, SHOULDER.
FEM. 19, CHEST.
The realization crashed over me in a sickening wave. They were human. Preserved with clinical, almost obsessive care, labeled as though they were no different from the beef and pork resting on the shelves beside them. I couldn’t breathe. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat as I took a step back, my mind spinning, trying to process this new facet of Alexander’s world.