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"Has that little bitch eaten?" Boss Scorpion barked, his piercing eyes landing on Stacy, who sat on the chair looking as though she might collapse at any moment. Her small body was limp, drained of strength, her skin pale, and her lips cracked. She looked pitiful.
"No, boss. We didn't feed her," one of the lackeys replied nervously, his voice shaking. Before he could even finish, Boss Scorpion's hand came down hard across his face. The sound of the slap echoed in the room, and the lackey stumbled back, clutching his cheek.
"Why didn't you feed her? Do you want her to die?" Boss Scorpion roared, his face red with anger. "Feed her, now!" He pointed sharply toward the lackey, who scrambled out of the room, returning moments later with a plate of food in his trembling hands.
The lackey approached Stacy, his expression a mix of fear and irritation. "Open your eyes, brat. It's time to eat," he growled, slapping Stacy's cheek to force her awake. Stacy blinked slowly, her gaze unfocused, barely registering the food being shoved in front of her face. She turned her head away weakly, the mere sight of the food making her stomach churn.
"I don't want to eat," she whispered, her voice so small it was almost inaudible.
The lackey's patience snapped. "Do you want to die, girl? You better eat now, because I'm not about to let you drop dead on my watch," he snarled, leaning in closer, his face inches from hers. The intensity in his voice made Stacy flinch, her body tensing from the sudden shift in his tone.
"Boss, she's refusing to eat," the lackey said, turning back to Boss Scorpion, who had been silently observing the entire exchange with an unsettling calm.
Without a word, Boss Scorpion moved toward Stacy, his boots thudding against the floor with each step. He crouched down so that he was eye level with her, his dark gaze boring into her as she instinctively tried to shrink away, her small frame trembling with fear. The memory of the last time he was this close—when he had burned her—flashed through her mind, and she clenched her fists to steady herself.
"Why don't you want to eat, little girl?" His voice was deceptively soft, but the menace beneath it was unmistakable.
"My sister told me not to eat food from strangers," Stacy stammered, her words shaky, her heart pounding in her chest. Boss Scorpion's lips twisted into a cruel smile, and he let out a cold, harsh laugh.
"Your sister isn't here, girl. And if you don't eat, you'll die. So, you better eat now," he said, his voice dripping with malice. His hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back as she winced in pain. "Open your mouth," he ordered, his grip tightening.
Tears welled up in Stacy's eyes as she slowly opened her mouth, her body trembling uncontrollably. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as the lackey shoved a spoonful of food into her mouth, the taste bitter and metallic against her dry throat.
"Now, that's a good girl," Boss Scorpion said with a mocking grin as he released her hair and stood up. He looked down at her with satisfaction. "Make sure she finishes all of it," he ordered before turning and walking out of the room, his laughter lingering in the air.
The young man from the previous day, the one who had spoken kindly to her, moved forward, his expression somber. He knelt by her side, gently untying her wrists and ankles from the ropes that had held her captive for hours. His movements were careful, as though he was afraid of hurting her further.
"Uncle, when will my sister come to get me?" Stacy asked, her voice hoarse and weak. She looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, her face streaked with tears. He was the same man who had told her it was okay to cry when the pain was too much to bear.
The man hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor as if the weight of her question was too much for him to handle. "I'm sure she'll come very soon," he muttered in his gruff voice, avoiding her gaze. The lie tasted bitter in his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth—that even he didn't know if her sister would ever come.
"Will you come with me when she comes?" Stacy asked, her small voice breaking through his thoughts. "Your boss isn't good. I don't think you should stay here any longer."
The man's heart ached at her innocence. She smiled up at him, that same gentle smile that made his chest tighten with guilt. He wished it were that simple—just to leave, to walk away from everything. But he knew better. Once you were in, you couldn't just walk away. The price of freedom was steep, and he had already paid his.
"I wish it were that easy," he thought to himself, his gaze darkening. He had joined this life to get stronger, to take revenge on those who had wronged him and taken away the only person he had ever loved. That revenge had been fulfilled, and for a time, it was enough. But now, with this innocent child before him, he felt the weight of his choices crushing him.
Even if he died today, he wouldn't regret the path he had chosen. He had gotten his revenge, but now, something had changed. He couldn't let an innocent girl like Stacy suffer .
He had to make sure she was safe, that she was returned to her sister. If her sister didn't come up with the money by Friday, he would take Stacy and run. He had already decided that much.
"Uncle, please tell me your name," Stacy said softly, pulling him from his thoughts. She looked up at him as he finished untying her wrists, her blue eyes filled with so much light, so much hope. He rubbed a salve on her bruised wrists, the ointment warm against her skin, offering a brief moment of relief from the pain.
The young man paused, then met her gaze.
Her beautiful blue eyes stared into his grey ones .
"Devon," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to smile, just a little, as she grinned up at him.