Under His Terms

Chapter four

‎I was back in the room again.

‎I knew it immediately, even before I looked around, because the air felt wrong. It was thick, heavy, like it had been sitting there too long, pressing against my skin with every breath I took. The lights above flickered without warning, dimming and flashing just enough to make everything look unstable and scary.

‎I was alone.

‎There were no guards, no voices or sound except the faint buzz of electricity overhead and something else… something quieter.

‎The punching bag.

‎It hung in the center of the room, moving slightly. Not swinging the way it had before when he hit it. This time it was slower.

‎I didn’t want to go closer.

‎I knew I shouldn’t.

‎But my feet moved anyway.

‎The closer I got, the colder my body felt, like I was walking into something I wasn’t supposed to see.

‎The zipper was already halfway open.

‎I stopped in front of it, staring.

‎I didn’t remember it being like that.

‎My hand lifted slowly, hesitating just for a second before I grabbed it. The metal felt colder than it should have. For a brief moment, everything went quiet, the flickering lights, the faint hum, even my own breathing felt distant.

‎Then I pulled.

‎It opened too easily, too fast.

‎The bag split apart, and something dropped out.

‎The body hit the floor with a heavy sound, folding in on itself before going still.

‎I stumbled back immediately, my breath catching hard in my throat as my heart slammed violently against my chest. For a second, I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to look. I already knew something was wrong.

‎But I looked anyway.

‎Slowly, I bent down, my hands shaking as I leaned closer, forcing myself to see—

‎And then I froze.

‎It was me.

‎The face on the floor was mine, but not the way it should have been. Bruised, swollen, wrong in ways I couldn’t even fully process. My stomach twisted violently, a sharp panic rising so fast it made my chest hurt.

‎I screamed and pushed myself backward, my hands slipping against the floor as I tried to get away from it.

‎“No… no…”

‎The body moved, slowly turning its head to me, then it's eyes opened.

‎My eyes.

‎They locked onto me, and something about the way they looked made my skin crawl.

‎“They know.”

‎The voice sounded like mine, but it came out wrong, like it had been dragged through something before it reached the air.

‎The hand lifted weakly, trembling as it pointed.

‎Not at me, but behind me.

‎My breath hitched as I turned.

‎And then I saw him.

‎Ethan stood there, watching.

‎There was blood on his hands. On the knife he held like it was nothing. It wasn’t fresh. It had dried in places, dark and uneven.

‎He didn’t look away from me.

‎“You lied.”

‎His voice filled the room, it was not loud but the echo made the room shake.

‎I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t listen. My legs refused, my hands slipping uselessly against the floor as panic flooded through me, sharp and suffocating.

‎He started walking toward me.

‎Slow at first.

‎Then faster.

‎The knife lifted, catching the flickering light as he closed the distance between us. My breath broke, my chest tightening as I tried to push myself back, but there was nowhere to go.

‎“Wait—”

‎He didn’t stop.

‎He rushed forward.......

‎

‎And I screamed as I jerked awake, my whole body snapping upright, the sound still caught in my throat as I struggled to breathe like I was just dragged out of water. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was.

‎Then the room came back slowly, the bed beneath me, the walls, the quiet, but my heart didn’t slow. It kept racing, loud enough that I could hear it in my ears, like the dream was still holding onto me.

‎The knock came just as my breathing began to settle, i turned my head toward the door, my heart still pounding in my chest. For a second, I didn’t move, some part of me that still clung to the dream, thought maybe it was Ethan.

‎The knock came again.

‎I forced myself to move.

‎My legs felt unsteady when I stood, like I hadn’t fully come back into my body yet. I pressed a hand briefly against the edge of the bed to steady myself, then smoothed my palm down the front of my dress out of habit before walking toward the door.

‎When I opened it, a woman stood there.

‎She looked older than me by quite a few years, dressed in a simple uniform that made it clear she worked here.

‎“Good morning, Miss Isabella.”

‎The name still didn’t sit right.

‎I nodded anyway. “Good morning.”

‎Her eyes moved over me briefly, not in curiosity, but in assessment, like she was checking if I matched whatever standard she had in mind.

‎“You’ve rested long enough,” she said. “You’ll be helping today. This isn’t a place where people sit around doing nothing.”

‎“I understand,” I replied, my voice quieter than I intended.

‎She didn’t wait for anything else. She turned and started walking, clearly expecting me to follow.

‎I stepped out and closed the door behind me, falling into step a few paces behind her. The hallway looked different in daylight, but not comforting. If anything, it only made it clearer how deliberate everything was. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was left unattended.

‎We went downstairs and into a large kitchen where a few other staff members were already working. No one spoke. They moved around each other like they had done it a hundred times before, each person knowing exactly where to be without needing direction.

‎“You’ll start here,” the woman said, gesturing toward a counter. “Finish what’s left, then wait for further instruction.”

‎I nodded and stepped forward.

‎The work itself was easy. Cleaning, arranging, wiping down surfaces, it was the kind of thing I could do without thinking. My hands moved on their own, but my mind didn’t stay still.

‎It kept drifting.

‎To the basement, to the bag.

‎I pushed the thoughts down and focused on what was in front of me. That had always been the safest thing to do.

‎When I finished, I looked around for the woman who brought me there but she was gone.

‎I wiped my hands slowly, hesitating for a moment before stepping out into the hallway. I thought I could find my way back the same way we came, but the moment I turned the corner, something felt off.

‎The corridor stretched longer than I remembered.

‎I paused, glancing back over my shoulder.

‎It didn’t look the same either.

‎A small, uneasy feeling settled in my chest, but I ignored it and kept walking. One turn led to another, and then another, each one looking exactly like the last. I was lost. I tried turning back, maybe go back to the kitchen and ask for directions.

‎That was when I heard voices.

‎I stopped immediately.

‎I should have turned back, kept going

‎But something held me there, i don't know if it was curiosity or boredom.

‎I moved a little closer before I could stop myself, just enough to see that the door ahead wasn’t fully closed. The voices were coming from inside.

‎I didn’t step in.

‎I just stood near the edge, listening.

‎Inside, he was there.

‎Ethan stood near the center of the room, dressed now, around him were five men.

‎I recognized two of them immediately.

‎The debt collectors.

‎The others were different.

‎One of them was built like he could snap something in half without trying. Another stood closer to Ethan, not as large, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made it clear he wasn’t just another guard.

‎He was the one speaking.

‎“There’s a leak,” he said.

‎“They’re not moving blindly anymore. They know where to hit, and they know when. That doesn’t happen unless someone’s feeding them information.”

‎“Who?” one of the men asked.

‎“The Red Hand,” he replied without hesitation. “The red hand has been awfully silent since the attack, it's been three months already, turns out they have been planning to infiltrate our business, attack from the inside, i knew that silence was suspicious" " I mean, they could already be inside,” he added.

‎Ethan didn’t respond immediately. He just watched him, his expression unreadable.

‎The man exhaled slowly, like he was choosing his next words carefully.

‎“ I will try to get more info but until I do, You need to be more careful, we don't know..”

‎He stopped, his eyes moving slowly and then he turned to the door.

‎shit, did he see me?

‎What is it?” Ethan asked.

‎The man didn’t answer, instead he pulled out his gun, the other men in the room straightened up, hands on their gun and staring in the direction where Lucas was, trying to know what he was looking at.

‎Then he moved.

‎The door swung open before I could react, and a hand grabbed my arm, pulling me forward so suddenly I lost my balance. I stumbled into the room, my breath catching as I tried to steady myself, but I didn’t get the chance.

‎A gun was already pointed at me.

‎“Don’t move.”

‎I froze.

‎My body went completely still, my hands lifting slightly without me thinking, like that could somehow make me less of a threat.

‎" who are you and what are you doing here" Lucas yelled pointing the gun to my head, I tried to speak but the coldness of the gun made me forget what I wanted to say.

‎" i i w...was loo... looking for...ple... please don't shoot" I managed to say.

‎" I said talk before I blow your brains out" Lucas yelled again, his grip on my elbow tightened as he clocked the gun. I could feel the urine running down my legs.

‎"Isabella?" Ethan called out.

‎lucas looked back at him, "you know this chick?" he asked. "she's the one I told you about"

‎“…The collateral?” he asked.

‎Ethan didn't answer, instead he walked towards me, stopping just in front of me,

‎“What are you doing here?”

‎My throat tightened, but I forced the words out.

‎“I was sent to get something,” I said quickly. “I didn’t know where I was going. I got lost.”

‎My voice shook despite trying to keep it steady.

‎“ I was trying to find my way, then I heard voices, I didn’t mean to listen, i swear.”

‎For a moment, no one said anything.

‎Ethan looked at me a second longer, like he was deciding if I was telling the truth.

‎“Be careful where you go.”

‎His voice wasn’t raised, but it didn’t leave room for argument.

‎“Don’t wander.”

‎“Yes,” I said immediately.

‎He turned slightly. “Escort Miss Isabella to her room.”

‎The man holding me hesitated for just a second before releasing my arm. Another stepped forward, gesturing for me to move.

‎I didn’t argue, didn’t look back.

‎I just followed.

‎Lucas let out a quiet breath, lowering the gun slightly but not completely.

‎His eyes lingered on the door for a moment before shifting back to Ethan.

‎“I tell you,” he said, his voice low, edged with something cautious, “there’s something fishy about this.”

‎He paused, then added,

‎“I’ll keep a close eye on this one if I were you.”

‎