Chapter 15&16
1944 Words
✦A WHITE MANSION ✦
The white mansion stood at the end of a long, silent driveway, bright and flawless beneath the sun. Its smooth ivory walls and towering pillars gave it a pristine, untouchable elegance. Tall windows reflected the sky like mirrors, and marble steps led up to grand double doors.
A perfectly trimmed garden wrapped around the estate, adding a calm, expensive beauty to the place.
From the outside, it looked peaceful. Simple. Serene.
But peace was the one thing that never lived inside those walls.
Inside, a golden chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting warm light over the white interior.
Everything was pale — white floors, white walls, even the couches were soft shades of cream. It was beautiful in a cold, lifeless way.
Three people lounged across the couches while maids quietly attended to them.
“Mom, it’s been a month since we last saw Rosalia,” Stella said lazily, crossing her legs. “Do you think she finally ended that miserable life of hers?”
Linda didn’t even blink.
“Who cares? If she’s gone, I can finally take her inheritance.”
The maids nearby exchanged uneasy glances but stayed silent.
Mark leaned back, his voice low and cruel.
“Even if she’s still alive somewhere, we can deal with it. Force her to sign everything over… or just end it ourselves.”
A maid carrying a tray of fruits gasped.
The tray slipped from her hands and shattered against the marble floor.
The room fell silent.
Stella shot to her feet and slapped her hard across the face.
“Don’t you know how to hold a tray?” she snapped.
The maid dropped to her knees immediately, trembling.
“I’m sorry, miss—”
“I told you it’s young mistress, you old thing!” Stella screamed, striking her again.
“I’m sorry… young mistress,” the maid whispered, her voice shaking.
But everyone in that house knew the truth.
Rosalia was the real young mistress.
The mansion belonged to her. Every inch of it. Her father had written her name as the sole owner.
Once, he had been a powerful man. Filthy rich. Untouchable.
Until the night he died in a car accident.
Rosalia’s mother had died when she was only three. At seven, her father married Linda — not for love, but to give his daughter someone to care for her.
Linda came with secrets.
She never told him she already had a daughter. Or a lover.
They exchanged rings, but it was never a real marriage.
Six months later, he was dead.
And everything fell apart.
Linda brought her daughter and her lover into the mansion. From that day on, Rosalia’s life became a nightmare worse than servitude.
Even school wasn’t spared.
Stella attended classes under Rosalia’s name.
Then, when Rosalia turned fifteen, the family lawyer arrived.
And revealed everything.
The company. The bank accounts. The estates.
All of it belonged to Rosalia.
They only didn’t know where the other properties were hidden.
Legally, everything would fully return to her once she married.
Linda received five million dollars from the will.
It wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
Only five maids remained in the massive mansion. The rest had fled over the years, unable to endure the cruelty that lived there.
The five who stayed were loyal only to Rosalia.
They loved her like their own child.
“Get out,” Linda ordered coldly.
The maids scattered instantly.
Mark clicked his tongue.
“We should replace them.”
Linda scoffed.
“With what money? We don’t even pay these ones. They only stay because of that girl. Replace them, and we start spending.”
Stella slammed her hand against the armrest.
“Then stop talking about maids and do something about her. I’m tired of living in her shadow. I’m tired of being poor!”
She was a spoiled storm in human form.
Linda’s expression softened as she stroked Stella’s hair.
“Relax. I already have a plan.”
✦ A STREET ✦
Rosalia hummed softly as she walked down the sidewalk, her steps light, almost playful. She skipped over a crack in the pavement, smiling to herself.
She had managed to bribe the mobster assigned to drive her.
The thought made her giggle.
Then she suddenly stopped.
Her brows pulled together in confusion.
“I don’t even know his name…” she whispered.
A car screeched to a stop beside her.
She screamed.
Four men stepped out, their expressions hard and merciless.
“That’s her,” one muttered.
Rosalia slowly stepped back, fear blooming in her chest.
“Grab her,” another ordered.
She ran.
“Don’t let her get away!” someone shouted as they chased after her.
Her lungs burned as she sprinted blindly, turning sharply into a narrow, dim alley.
And froze.
More men stood ahead of her, rough and dangerous.
One of them grinned.
“That’s the girl we were sent to bring.”
Her heart dropped.
“No… please—”
She turned to run, but a cloth was suddenly pressed over her nose.
She struggled violently, panic exploding through her body.
The world spun.
Her vision blurred.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
A car sat parked at a distance, hidden in the shadows but close enough to see everything.
Three men watched in silence.
One of them finally spoke.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones after her.”
✦ DARK THRONE ✦
The Sins were dressed in black.
A war uniform.
Everyone was present — except Kruz.
Killian stood at the head of the room, calm and commanding, giving instructions with cold precision.
The doors suddenly opened.
Kruz walked in, his expression grim.
“Boss,” he said, voice tight. “She’s been kidnapped.”
Killian didn’t respond.
A heavy silence filled the room.
Kruz swallowed.
“Rosalia has been kidnapped,” he clarified.
A pause.
Then Killian finally spoke.
“I know.”
The Sins exchanged tense, calculating glances.
“Boss… aren’t you worried about her?” Kruz asked, his voice betraying the smallest hint of hesitation.
“No,” Killian’s reply was ice. Cold enough to make the air around them shiver.
Inside, his mind roared. He wanted to storm in, rip anyone who dared touch her limb from limb. He wanted to swallow the world that threatened her in one bite.
But to move… now… would be a mistake.
Every step toward her risked dragging her deeper into the darkness. More enemies would surface. And he couldn’t always be there. She was fragile. Fragile in a world that drank blood like water.
“Are we really leaving her with them, boss?” Kruz asked again, tension sharpening his voice.
“Yes.” Killian didn’t even look back. He walked out, leaving behind an aura so suffocating it clawed at their skin.
Viper’s lips curled into a malicious smile. She had always despised her—too close to Killian, too soft, too much of a light in their shadow. And now… he was leaving her to the wolves.
Speedy and Blade exchanged uneasy glances. Even Kruz, second in command, fell silent.
“It’s time,” Kruz muttered finally. “We move.”
The Sins exited, stepping into the night with cold precision. A life-or-death mission awaited.
Yet they always came back. They always did.
✦ ABANDONED WAREHOUSE ✦
The warehouse reeked of neglect. Cobwebs clung to every corner, the floor was slick with dirt and rot, and shadows draped themselves like curtains. Near the riverbank, far from prying eyes, Rosalia lay unconscious, her skin a pale, unblemished canvas amid decay.
“I’ve never seen skin like that,” one of her captors murmured, a perverse awe in his voice.
“Too bad she offended the wrong person,” another said with a sneer.
The leader’s grin was a predator’s. “Wake her. Let the fun begin.”
A bucket of icy water crashed over her.
She gasped, lungs burning, eyes snapping open. Panic surged as memories came rushing back. She shot upright.
“Where… am I?” Her throat was dry, voice trembling.
“Somewhere no one will ever find you.” The voice was smooth, deliberate, deadly.
Her head turned. The room wasn’t empty. They were here. All of them.
The shrill buzz of a phone pierced the oppressive darkness. The leader snatched it, placing it on speaker.
“Kill her. He doesn’t want her.”
The voice was unfamiliar yet chillingly familiar at the same time. Rosalia froze, tears carving silent paths down her cheeks. She had never wronged anyone. Who… who could want her dead?
“Just kill her? Can’t we… have fun first?” the leader scoffed.
“Whatever. Just make sure her existence ends. Pathetic.” The call cut.
The leader laughed. A slow, cruel sound that slithered across the walls. “She’s ours.”
Rosalia recoiled, pressing against the cold, grimy wall. Every instinct screamed at her. No escape.
“Please… I’ll give you money…” her words hiccuped.
The slap came swift, sharp, a punctuation of brutality.
“We’ve been paid enough. We only want you.” He leaned close, yellowed crooked teeth gleaming in the dim light. She could feel death pressing against her chest.
Her shirt was ripped, a shudder of panic running through her… then the door exploded open.
The room froze.
It wasn’t just the door. It was the air itself bending under a knee-buckling presence.
“W-who—” the leader stammered, voice failing.
No one could have found this place…
“Your death.”
The words fell like hammers. Deep, resonant, final. Shadows twisted, fear carved into every corner. They fell to their knees. Every muscle quivering.
Even without been told they felt it. And they know their death had arrived.
And then the devil stepped in.
Black shining clothes. Devastating. Attractive. Terrifying. No horns. Yet nothing about him seemed human.
killian Sinclair.
- Writer
