Healing My Destroyer: The Psycho's Sanctuary

The silence of the deep, dark night lay scattered everywhere, draped in a thin veil of fog covering the road. Piercing through that mist, the headlights of several cars appeared, speeding away from the city toward the desolate Blackwood Forest. The beams tore through the face of the fog and came to a halt in front of a lonely mansion. The door of the lead car opened, and a young man stepped out. He opened the rear door, and the person sitting inside placed his heavy steps on the ground. His face was completely shrouded in shadow; his mere presence made the air feel heavy. The heat of his breath was visible, mingling with the smoke of his cigarette. "Boss, he’s inside," said his assistant, Enzo, who was also his right hand. The footprints now led into the mansion. A man sat on his knees, hands tied, with both blood and terror plastered on his face. The young man spoke softly; his voice was calm, but every word carried horror rather than comfort. "You knew, didn't you... what it means to make a deal with me?" The man stammered, sobbing, "Sir... please, it was a mistake... I swear I had no idea..." The young man laughed, but there was no warmth in it—it was a cold, lethal smile. "No idea? Did you think I was that stupid?" Enzo stepped forward and said, "Sir... this girl was with them too. Posing as a psychiatrist, she was feeding our information to the rivals." The young man shifted his gaze to the girl. She wore a white coat, but the shadow of fear was in her eyes. He leaned in slowly, whispering near her ear, "You came to be a psychiatrist? To heal me? Sweetheart, you shouldn't have tried to heal me... you should have learned how to handle me." The girl tried to shrink back, but he grabbed her wrist. "You know the rule... there is only one cure for betrayal." "So sorry sir, please give me a chance." "I don't give chances; I give death." His words were colder than the mist outside. Enzo asked in a cold tone, "Sir, orders?" The young man turned toward the man who was now weeping on the floor. He fell to his knees, screaming, "Please... forgive me, De-Luca! I’ll do anything... please sir!" The young man took a final puff of his cigarette, glanced down at him, and suddenly grabbed his collar, whispering, "**Too late... Agniv De-Luca doesn't forgive... he finishes.**" Just then, the sounds of wild dogs echoed, being held back by two men. The dogs looked at the man like prey. However, De-Luca stroked them affectionately and said, "You know, dogs are more loyal. Come, let me teach you loyalty before you die. Would you like to see their devotion to their owners?" As he spoke, De-Luca turned his back. A smirk played on his lips. The man was terrified. "No, no, Agniv De-Luca!" But his men released the leashes, and the dogs tore into the man. His blood splashed onto the girl’s clothes and face. Horrified, she began to run, but a single gunshot pierced the silence of the forest, and she collapsed. In the fog, only one name was whispered: "De-Luca." ### In a Cafe Maya set her cup down and laughed with a squeal, "So really? The posting is confirmed? Elara, you're going to tell your dad now, right? Just think how he’ll react—he’ll be so proud and happy!" Elara Vance forced a thin, fake smile, but the corners of her eyes grew moist. "Maya... telling Dad isn't that easy. He changed after Mom passed. The alcohol broke him." Maya’s expression hardened slightly. "But you’ve struggled so much—you’re 21, you’re becoming a psychiatrist. This should be a huge moment of joy for him." Elara lowered her voice. "I chose psychiatry because I thought if I could understand him, maybe I could bring him back. But when the targets are your own relationships, everything becomes different." Her voice trailed off. Maya asked, "Jax? Misha? Are they okay?" Elara’s breathing quickened. "Yes, they're fine, but I'm thinking that once I start earning more, I’ll put them both in a hostel. The environment at home isn't right for them." "Well, that’s for the best. At least they’ll be away from your dad," Maya said. The path home at night was dark, but a strange anxiety in Elara's heart hurried her toward the house. As she crossed the threshold, she heard a sound—Misha screaming. The scene in the living room tore at her chest. Inside, Arthur Vance, her father, was in a drunken rage—his face red, eyes bloodshot, with a whiskey bottle by his side. Jax stood in the middle, trying to stop him. Misha was huddled behind a chair, trembling with fear. "Leave me alone! You’re all fools, good for nothing, just like your mother. Why didn’t you all just go away with her!?" Arthur screamed, raising his hand to strike Jax. Jax stepped forward to dodge and began restraining his father. "You’re all here by choice! Just like your mother ran away, these two will run away too," Arthur’s voice was filled with venom. Fear gripped Elara's heart. From inside, Misha’s sobbing voice could be heard, "Dad, don't hit brother!" Elara immediately ran into the drawing room. "You’re going to teach me how to be a father!? You’re going to speak against me?" Arthur’s tone was laced with poison. Jax jerked his hand away, "Don't you feel any shame? You drink every day, you scream at us every day!" Misha ran into the middle, "Dad!! Come to your senses! This is your son." "Shut up!" A resounding slap landed on her cheek. Misha screamed. Elara went blank for a second. A streak of blood appeared on Misha’s cheek. Jax’s patience snapped. "You laid a hand on my sister." Saying this, Jax picked up the whiskey glass from the table and smashed it on the floor. The shattered sound echoed through the room. All the anger, all the hatred, and all the suppressed humiliation inside Jax erupted. He picked up a wooden showpiece from the side—heavy and solid. Arthur clutched his head, "Shameless! You’d raise a hand against your father?" Jax screamed back, "Father!? When did you ever fulfill the duty of being a father!?" And he swung the showpiece with all his might against Arthur’s head. *Thud!* A droplet of blood splattered onto Elara’s cheek. Elara screamed, "Jax!!" Arthur stumbled back and fell to the floor. His head hit the edge of a corner. Blood began to flow; his eyes went blank for a moment. Elara rushed over, "Dad!! Dad, open your eyes!!" Her hands were soaked in blood. Jax took a step back, his hands trembling. "I... I didn’t want to, Sis..." Misha cried out loudly, "Sis, take him to the hospital, quickly!" "Let him stay there, let him die like this, what has he ever done for us anyway...!" Jax muttered. "Just shut up." Elara tried to lift her unconscious father using her shoulder for support. Jax didn't want to help, but seeing his sister struggling, he stepped forward. "But Sis, the hospital is far, how will we get him there on the scooter?" Misha said, crying. They had just stepped outside the door when they heard the roar of several cars heading their way. "You two take care of Dad, I’ll ask for a lift." Saying this, Elara went and stood in the middle of the road. She hadn't even taken off her helmet. "Sis, be careful," Jax said angrily. But it was as if Elara didn't care for her own life. Between the light fog and the multiple cars approaching, the headlights fell directly on Elara, making her look like a silhouette. "Hey, stop please! We need your help!" Elara said, waving her hand in the air. The lead car was about to hit Elara when the brakes slammed. Because of this, all the cars in the convoy came to a halt. Due to the sudden braking, the young man who was resting his head in the back seat opened his amber eyes, which looked full of rage. One by one, all the cars stopped. The driver of the front car stepped out of his door in a rage, waving his hand as he shouted, "Hey girl, why are you standing here? Move—I’m warning you!" Elara gestured with her hands and said, "Please sir, please help us—we need to get our father admitted to the hospital, his condition has turned very critical."