Obsessed

Chapter 52

Without warning, William drove the knife deep into Mark’s thigh.

Mark screamed behind the gag, his entire body jolting against the ropes as searing agony ripped through his leg. Blood poured in thick rivulets, soaking through the fabric of his jeans, pooling beneath the chair. He bit down hard into the cloth gag, his muffled roar vibrating through the room.

Ronnie shrieked—a raw, heartbreaking sound—her eyes wide with horror as she thrashed in her chains. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her cries muffled by the cloth tied around her mouth. Her body jerked helplessly, the cuffs cutting into her wrists with each desperate pull.

William stood over Mark, gripping the knife handle as blood dripped down his leg, his expression calm, almost clinical. Then his eyes narrowed, face twisting in contempt.

“You f****d my little angel,” he hissed, voice cracking with rage. “You tainted her. Ruined her. Defiled her.”

Mark groaned through clenched teeth, breathing hard, glaring up at him through a haze of pain and fury.

Victor suddenly chuckled. He strolled toward a small, boxy television resting on an old crate in the corner of the room. The screen flickered to life with a low hum. Static danced before giving way to grainy footage.

Mark blinked, trying to focus past the blood loss and pounding in his skull.

Then his breath caught.

The video was shaky but unmistakable—filmed though a window, the angle peeking through half-closed blinds.

Him and Ronnie. That night.

Their first night they slept together.

They were in his apartment. His bed. Her soft moans, their whispered names—the intimacy, the vulnerability, the beauty of it—played out like a sick movie, stolen and twisted.

Mark growled through the gag, his teeth gnashing together on the cloth.

Ronnie’s eyes locked onto the screen.

Her entire body trembled.

She shook her head, as if denying the reality of what she was seeing could make it disappear. Her stomach twisted violently, bile rising in her throat. That night had meant something—it had been hers. The only night she had ever allowed herself to be vulnerable, to be touched. To be wanted without being hurt.

And they had taken it.

They had watched it.

Recorded it.

Violated it.

Victor walked over to William and clapped a hand on his shoulder like a proud older brother.

William stood tall, his face shadowed, then leaned down, staring into Mark’s face with a perverse smile.

“So,” he said, voice almost gentle, “how did she taste, Mark?”

Mark’s head jerked up, eyes narrowing.

William tilted his head. “How did she smell? Hmm? That skin—so sweet, right? Soft and warm like silk.”

Mark grunted, his jaw clenched so tightly the veins in his neck popped.

William didn’t stop.

“She’s like a drug, isn’t she? The kind that gets into your system, under your skin. A high you can’t quit, no matter how hard you try. She gets inside your head, your lungs, your soul. You breathe her in… and you’re addicted.”

Ronnie sobbed louder, her face burning with shame and rage.

Victor circled behind Mark again. “She’s worth it though,” he said lightly—right before slamming another punch into Mark’s ribs.

Another crack.

Another muffled scream.

Ronnie shrieked, thrashing violently in the chains, her screams turning raw and primal.

William turned to her, amused. “Do you have something to say, little angel?”

Ronnie’s body stilled—just for a moment—then gave a desperate nod.

William moved closer and reached out, slowly untying the cloth from her mouth.

The second it dropped, Ronnie gasped in air like she’d been drowning. Her lips trembled, throat raw from sobbing.

“Please,” she choked. “Please don’t hurt him.”

William’s eyes darkened.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” she continued, her voice shaking but steadying with purpose. “Just don’t kill him. Don’t… please, William… please. I’ll go with you. I’ll stay with you. I’ll be what you want me to be.”

William crouched in front of her, his face only inches from hers.

“Do you mean it?” he whispered.

Ronnie’s eyes welled again, but she nodded. Slowly. Surely.

“I mean it,” she said softly, the words slicing her soul open.

William shivered.

Her voice, her surrender—it aroused him.

He looked down, then back up again, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Say it again.”

Ronnie’s lip quivered.

He leaned in. “Beg me,” he said. “Beg me to spare his life. And call me Daddy while you do it.”

Her stomach churned. The word clung to her throat like poison. Her eyes flicked to Mark.

He was staring at her.

Bloodied, bruised, but present. His expression screamed don’t. He shook his head just slightly.

But she didn’t look away.

She took a breath. A deep, shaking breath.

And then she said it.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t kill him… Daddy. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt him anymore. Don’t kill him.”

William let out a sound that was half-groan, half-moan, like the word itself had electrified his brain.

Then he grabbed her face and kissed her.

Hard.

Violent.

Mark roared through the gag, thrashing in his chair.

Ronnie’s body seized under the force of it. His mouth tasted of blood, sweat, filth—and she froze, enduring it, letting it happen if it meant Mark would live.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were split, her chest heaving.

William’s voice was thick with satisfaction. “You always did look pretty when you begged.”

Then, without warning, he unchained her.

Her wrists throbbed, bruised and raw. William grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across the room like a doll.

Mark struggled with everything he had, veins bulging as he strained against the ropes.

“Victor,” William said calmly, “you know what to do.”

Victor smiled, stepping over to a red gasoline can in the corner. He uncapped it and began dousing the walls, the furniture, the floor around Mark’s chair.

The air filled with the sharp stench of gasoline. Mark’s breathing quickened.

“No…” Ronnie whispered, looking up from the floor. “You said—you said you wouldn’t kill him if I begged.”

William crouched beside her again, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“I'm not,” he said sweetly. “I'm not going to kill him.”

Then his eyes darkened.

“But you didn’t say anything about Victor.”