Bought by the underworld CEO

Chapter 08 ( Cold floor and the Punishment )

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_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Each step Ares took up the stairs was a gunshot in the silence.

Zoya heard them. She was on the floor of "her" room, back against the wall , knees pulled to her chest. The maids had locked it from the outside. Again.

She wasn’t crying. She was past tears. That police station had killed something soft in her. Hope.

The steps stopped outside her door.

Silence.

Then the lock clicked.

Ares stepped inside. He didn’t slam the door. He closed it gently, like he was entering a church. But he was the devil.

His suit jacket was gone. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the veins in his forearms. His tie was loose. He looked like a man who’d just finished a difficult business deal.

He wasn’t angry. That was worse. Anger was human. His face was blank. Empty. Cold.

Zoya scrambled backward until her spine hit the leg of the bed. She couldn’t go any further.

"You ran," Ares said. His voice was quiet. Too quiet. It was the voice he used before he signed death warrants. "You actually thought you could run from me."

It wasn’t a question.

Zoya forced herself to lift her chin. "You lied to them," she spat. "You told the police I was your girlfriend. You bribed them."

A slow smile touched Ares’s lips. It didn’t reach his eyes. "And they believed me. Because I’m Ares Blackwood. And you’re a nobody."

He took a step closer. Zoya flinched.

"Do you know what happens to people who try to destroy my reputation, Zoya?" He crouched down so they were eye level. She could smell his cologne — cedar and something metallic, like blood. "They disappear. Their families disappear. Their entire bloodline gets erased from Country A."

Ice slid down Zoya’s spine. "My family... they’re not in Country A. They’re in Country M. You can’t touch them."

Ares tilted his head. "Can’t I?"

He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen twice, and turned it to her.

It was a live drone feed. Aerial view. A street Zoya knew with her soul. Her childhood street in Country M. The camera zoomed in.

Her parents mansion , her home. The blue gate. Balcony, Zoya's favorite spot and the garden where Zoya and her parents planted many flowers and plants. Zoya was her parents only child.

They treated her like a diamond, and cared for her like a fragile flower, even never raised their voices in front of Zoya. But now what's she's going through is a nightmare for her.

Her mother was watering the plants in the garden . Her father was getting into his car. He was looking worried maybe because they thought her only daughter died in a plane crash.

Zoya’s heart stopped. "How... how did you—"

"I own satellites, sweetheart," Ares said softly. "I own politicians in Country M. I own the police there too. One call, and that mansion becomes a pile of ash. One call, and your father’s car explodes on his way to work. One call, and your mother—"

"STOP!" Zoya screamed. She lunged forward, and grabbed his collar.

Ares caught her wrists in one hand. Easily removed her hands from his collar . Like she was a little kid . He pinned them above her head and pushed her back against the bedpost.

"Listen to me very carefully," he whispered. His face was inches from hers. "You are mine. Your passport is mine. Your family’s lives are mine. You ran today. You humiliated me. You made me lie to peasants in uniform."

His grip tightened until she whimpered.

"So now, you’re going to learn what happens when my property misbehaves."

He let go suddenly. Zoya collapsed, gasping, rubbing her bruised wrists.

Ares stood and walked to the massive wardrobe. He opened it. Inside, hanging on hangers, were not clothes.

Chains.

Different kinds. Silver. Black. Some thin like jewelry. Some thick, industrial. All with locks.

Zoya’s blood turned cold eyes wide open.

Ares selected one. A long, thin silver chain, delicate and cruel.

He walked back to her. "come here babe ."

Zoya kicked at him. "I won’t! I’ll scream! I’ll—"

He caught her ankle mid-kick. His fingers dug into her skin. "Scream," he said. "This penthouse is soundproofed. The staff is paid to be deaf. The police are paid to be blind. Scream until your throat bleeds. No one is coming."

He looped the chain around her ankle. It was cold. Colder than the iron one. This one felt personal.

_Click._

The lock shut. The other end of the chain, he attached to a bolt in the floor she hadn’t noticed before. Right next to the bed. It gave her maybe five feet of movement. Bed to bathroom. That was it.

Ares stood, looking down at his work. He looked satisfied. Like an artist admiring a painting.

"You’re not sleeping in that bed anymore," he said. "Disloyal people don't deserve the softness. They are well suited for the floor."

He walked to the door.

"Ares, wait!" Zoya’s voice cracked. She hated herself for begging. "My family... you can’t... please don’t hurt them. I’ll do anything. I’ll stay. I won’t run. Just don’t touch them."

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. He didn’t turn around.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Yes," she breathed. "Anything."

"Good," he said. "Then you’ll start by learning your place. No more police. No more running. No more lying."

He opened the door.

"Lena will bring you water. Once a day. If you behave, maybe food."

The door shut.

_Click._

Locked. From the outside.

Zoya sat on the cold floor, the new silver chain pooling around her ankle like a snake. She stared at the drone feed still playing on his phone — he’d left it on the floor for her. A reminder.

Her mother was still watering the plants . She didn’t know she was one phone call away from death.

Zoya finally broke.

She pulled her knees to her chest, buried her face, and sobbed. Not the quiet, shameful tears from Ch 5. These were ugly. Wrenching. The sounds of a soul breaking.

She cried for her parents. She cried for the girl she was three weeks ago. She cried because she realized the truth.

She wasn’t in a cage.

She was in a grave. And Ares Blackwood was the one holding the shovel.

Hours later, the door opened again. Lena came in with a bottle of water and a bowl of plain rice. She didn’t look at Zoya. She set them on the floor, just out of reach of the chain, and left.

Zoya didn’t move.

The drone feed on the phone went black. Battery dead.

But the image was burned into her brain. Her mother, her father, her home. All hostages now.

_War,_ she had thought in Ch 5.

She’d been stupid.

You don’t declare war on a person like him .

You survive him.

And somewhere in the wreckage of her sobs, something new was born. Not hope. Not fear.

_Patience._

He wanted a broken thing . She would give him one. Until she figured out how to bite his throat out.

_End of Chapter 8_