His Goddess Of Temptation

Chapter Two: The Rooms Of Chains

Deerah’s POV

Pain was the first thing I felt.

Not sharp — just dull, constant, crawling under my skin like it belonged there.

When I opened my eyes, the world was painted in grey and shadows. Chains hung from the ceiling, their metallic clinks echoing through the silent chamber. My wrists were bound to a cold metal chair; my throat burned from thirst. The air smelled of rust, smoke, and betrayal.

Sir Fred’s favorite combination.

A dim light flickered above me, buzzing like a dying insect. My body screamed in protest when I tried to move. Every muscle felt bruised. The last thing I remembered was his voice — calm, cold, cutting.

“You know what happens to traitors, don’t you?”

Now I knew exactly what he meant.

Footsteps approached — soft, hesitant. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Emi.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, kneeling beside me. His hands trembled as he dabbed a wet cloth against my bruised cheek. “He’s watching, Deerah. Through the cameras.”

Of course he was. Sir Fred never trusted anyone, not even his own blood.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And you shouldn’t have hesitated.” His tone broke somewhere between anger and sorrow. “Why, Dee? Why risk everything for the Manson boy?”

I stared at the floor, my breath uneven. “I don’t know,” I lied.

But I did.

Because Alfred Manson’s eyes looked too much like freedom.

Emi’s jaw clenched. He brushed his thumb across my knuckles — just once, tender, like a sin he wished he could forget.

“You’re lucky he didn’t kill you,” he said. “He thinks breaking you is better.”

“Then let him try.” My voice was hoarse, but defiant. “He can’t kill what he created.”

He looked at me like he wanted to believe that, but didn’t.

The heavy door creaked open before he could reply. The guards entered, faces blank, movements rehearsed. Emi stepped back immediately, his mask sliding into place.

“Sir Fred wants her in the study,” one of them said.

Chains rattled as they unhooked me from the chair. My legs almost gave out, but I refused to fall. The moment of weakness would only make him smile.

As they dragged me through the dim hallway, I could feel the cameras follow every step. The house was beautiful — marble floors, gold fixtures, endless corridors — but to me, it was nothing but a gilded cage.

When we reached the study, Sir Fred was already waiting — a glass of wine in one hand, a gun in the other.

“Deerah,” he said, without looking up. “Sit.”

I did. The guards left, the door clicked shut. Silence settled between us like a loaded gun.

“You disappointed me,” he said finally. “But I’m merciful. I believe in second chances.”

My heart skipped. Sir Fred didn’t believe in mercy — only strategy.

“I want you to fix what you broke,” he continued. “The Mansons are getting bold. Their son, Alfred — I hear he’s asking questions about that night.”

I kept my expression blank.

“You’ll find him,” he said. “And finish the job.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

He was sending me back — to him.

I bowed my head. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he said softly. “Make me proud, Deerah. Or I’ll make you regret it.”

As I left the room, I could still feel his eyes on my back — cold, possessive, and cruel.

But beneath all the fear, something else stirred inside me.

Not loyalty. Not revenge.

Something dangerously close to desire.

⸻

Alfred’s POV

The rain hadn’t stopped since that night.

Thunder rolled across the sky like an echo of what happened at the mansion.

I stood by the window of my study, staring into the storm. Every flash of lightning reminded me of her — the woman in the silver dress. The one who saved me. The one who shouldn’t exist.

I didn’t even know her name.

But I could still feel the weight of her touch when she dragged me behind cover, the warmth of her breath when she whispered, “Someone you shouldn’t remember.”

Too late.

I remembered everything.

“Sir,” a voice called from behind me. My bodyguard, Roman. “We found out something about that night. The attackers weren’t just from Fred’s crew — someone inside our own leaked the route.”

“Names,” I demanded.

“Still investigating, but there’s something else.” Roman handed me a photo — a grainy security still from the party. My chest tightened as I saw her face. Even blurred, she was unmistakable.

“Find her,” I said.

Roman hesitated. “Sir, if she’s with Fred—”

“Then I’ll find her faster.”

He nodded and left. I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. Every instinct screamed that she was dangerous, but my mind wouldn’t let her go.

That’s when Alfred’s older brother, Zoey, walked in — unbothered as always, tossing an apple in his hand.

“You’re obsessing again,” Zoey said, biting into it. “Over a woman who literally pointed a gun at you.”

“She saved me.”

“She almost killed you.”

I shot him a look. He shrugged.

“I’m just saying,” Zoey continued. “Dad doesn’t need another problem. Fred’s already breathing down our necks, and you’re chasing mystery women.”

“She’s not a mystery,” I said. “She’s a message.”

Zoey smirked. “You sound like Dad when he’s drunk.”

But I wasn’t joking.

Because something told me she wasn’t just any assassin.

She was the key to ending this war — or starting one.

⸻

Deerah’s POV

The helicopter blades cut through the night as I stared down at the city below — a maze of lights and danger.

Emi sat beside me, silent, his jaw tight. He hadn’t said a word since we left the mansion.

When we landed, he finally turned to me. “Deerah, please… don’t make me lose you again.”

I looked at him, a small, broken smile tugging at my lips. “You already did.”

Then I stepped out into the rain.

The mission had begun again — same target, same danger.

But this time, my heart was the traitor.

And as the storm swallowed me whole, I realized something:

I wasn’t just going after Alfred Manson.

I was going after the truth — about him, about Sir Fred, and about the bloodline I was never supposed to question.

Because somewhere, deep down, I could feel it —

a connection stronger than bullets, older than hate.

And when that truth comes out…

the entire empire will burn.

⸻

🩸 To Be Continued…

Next Chapter — “The Boy Who Should’ve Been My Enemy”