It was on the right side of the mansion, a part I had never been to before. The guard led me up a long staircase toward a massive door.
The dungeon should be in the basement… right?
But the moment that thought formed, another followed.
If we were heading to his room instead… that could be much worse. The guard suddenly stopped in front of the door and gestured for me to go in. I hesitated for a moment before going in.
The room was huge. Bookshelves lined the walls, packed with leather-bound volumes. A massive desk dominated the center of the room, polished dark wood reflecting the fading light coming through tall glass windows.
A study. It was Nico's study. For a moment, I almost relaxed. But then I noticed Vera standing quietly near the wall and Nico. He wasn't sitting behind the desk. He was waiting.
The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, exposing his tattooed forearms. His blue eyes were fixed on me, and the anger in them felt heavy enough to fill the entire room.
His black hair wasn't slicked back the way it usually was. Instead it looked slightly ruffled, which somehow made him look even more dangerous.
I closed the door behind me and walked toward him slowly, stopping a few feet away with the large desk between us.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. My eyes stayed on the floor. I messed up, I got caught, and that much was clear.
My mind was already calculating how bad this would be. There were no other guards in the room. Maybe—just maybe—he would let it go this once.
"I...I panicked and —"
The word died in my throat.
I lifted my head and froze.
The calm anger he'd shown earlier was gone. What remained now was pure rage, wrapped around him like an invisible aura.
His expression was blank as he spoke.
"I have been too lax with you, haven't I?"
I shook my head immediately, terrified that saying the wrong thing would make everything worse.
I had known Nico for years. Which was exactly why I was trembling so badly. I knew what he was capable of. I had seen it. It was the very reason my father had always admired him more than his own daughter.
Nico stepped away from the windows behind his desk and began walking toward me. Vera remained silent at the side of the room, watching. He stopped directly in front of me. Cold blue eyes locked onto mine.
"…I swear," I whispered, my voice trembling despite my effort to control it. "It won't happen again."
My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. But even as I spoke, I already knew what he was going to say. The words were practically hanging in the air before he spoke them.
"There are rules."
My legs nearly gave out. My eyes fluttered shut as my hands curled into tight fists at my sides. I couldn't look at him anymore. I forced myself to breathe slowly, swallowing again and again as I tried to calm the panic rising inside my chest.
I could feel his gaze on me.
No matter how many "lessons" my father had given me growing up, they were never enough to make me tolerant of pain. He had never left scars—but he had made sure I watched when others were punished. Which meant I knew exactly what was coming. And still, I wasn't ready.
"How many toes?" Nico asked calmly.
For a brief, absurd moment, the only thing that crossed my mind was how considerate it was of him to choose somewhere hidden—far from where anyone would be able to see the damage.
NICO'S POV
I watched her shake and tremble, but it did nothing to ease the anger burning inside me.
If not for the precautions I had taken—plans carefully put in place long before tonight—she would have disappeared without a second thought. Me and my money be damned.
"How many?" I asked again, my voice steady as I waited for her to answer.
For a moment, her eyes looked distant, like her thoughts had wandered somewhere dark. Slowly, they refocused on me.
"O…one," she said finally.
Her voice trembled despite the effort she made to sound calm. I turned away from her and pressed a button on my desk.
A second later, the door opened, and one of my men stepped inside. He was already holding a metal box. Without needing instructions, he carried it forward and placed it on the table before popping it open.
The contents were laid out neatly. Scalpels. Bone saws. Pliers. Tools meant for precision.
I didn't look at Carmen when the box opened, though I heard the sharp hitch in her breathing. Her entire body had started trembling now. Sweat covered her forehead as she stared at the instruments like she already knew what they were for.
My gaze remained fixed on the box. Without hesitation, I reached in and picked up a pair of pliers.
The familiar weight settled comfortably in my hand. There was no emotion attached to it. I had done this many times before. Blood had never bothered me. If anything, I had long since grown used to the sight of it.
Slowly, I stepped toward her.
A faint smile curved at the corner of my mouth as our eyes met. Her hands were shaking. Her lashes fluttered. But she didn't look away. Instead, she glared at me with all the hate and anger she could summon in her glassy blue eyes.
I smiled right back.