Chapter Six- Cold Hands, Silent Mouths
1144 Words
Chapter Six - Cold Hands, Silent Mouths
The first sound Lilith heard was the soft click of heels—too refined, too deliberate to belong in the dungeon.
She didn’t move. Not at first.
She was used to silence. Cold. The occasional creak of rusted hinges. But this sound—this sharp, elegant rhythm—belonged to someone who wanted to be heard.
When she looked up, the light from the torches caught the shimmer of red silk.
Isadora.
She descended the stone stairs like she was walking a runway, not visiting a cell. Her expression was drenched in disdain.
“Well,” she said, stopping just outside the cell door, “you’re still alive.”
Lilith didn’t answer. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her lips stayed sealed.
Isadora smirked. “I figured I should check on the infamous little pet. After all, Tristan’s been so busy lately, he hardly has time for anything else.”
She stepped closer to the bars, crouching down so her face was level with Lilith’s. “Do you know how long it’s been since he’s touched me like that?” Her voice dropped, coated in venom. “Too long. And then you show up, crying and bleeding, you think that's going to help you? You're wrong, dear. Don't try to think he cares about you, cause he doesn't.”
Lilith didn’t blink. “I never said he did,” she said flatly. “He just locked me away when I spoke the truth.”
Isadora’s smile faltered for a heartbeat.
Then she laughed. “Oh, sweet girl. You really think this is about fairness?” She stood again, smoothing the front of her dress.
“Tristan doesn’t care about your tears. He doesn’t give a f**k about you. You’re new. That’s all. A distraction, you'll become old news sooner or later.”
She began pacing, slow and deliberate. “You were a mistake,” she said, almost to herself. “He always does this—plays with broken things.”
Isadora turned sharply back toward her. “But don’t get comfortable. He’ll get bored. They always do.”
Still, Lilith didn’t speak. That silence was louder than anything she could’ve said.
She turned sharply, heels biting into the stone floor. She didn’t give Lilith a final glance as she ascended the stairs. But her pace was just a little too fast.
Lilith didn’t move for a long time after she left.
But the silence she left behind was thick with hatred—and something else.
Jealousy.
Back at the mansion…
Tristan stood behind his desk when she returned, golden eyes sharp. “You went down there.”
Isadora’s smile didn’t falter. “I missed you. I wanted to see what held your attention for so long.”
His stare didn’t soften. “Don’t do it again.”
The warning cut through the air like a blade.
“Ohh come on, she's just a slave, I think I have the right to see your subjects. Don't I?” Isadora asked, still keeping her smile.
Tristan got angrier. “I'll tell you if you have the right to do anything or not, do not go down there again or else you would join her. She's not just a slave, she’s my collateral. She's different”.
Isadora hesitated, a flicker of heat rising in her chest—not desire, but fury.
He was defending the girl. A slave. Trash.
She noticed the anger in him and she knew he would do what he said he would, he wasn't a man of many words, but the few words he said—he acted upon.
She bowed her head slightly. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
She lied with her voice. But her thoughts were venom.
---
That night, they had s*x.
It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t passionate. It simply happened, there was no emotion in the act, it felt like an obligation—a right.
He undressed her in silence. She helped, as she always did.
He pushed into her like a man fulfilling a duty, his hands firm but impersonal, his breathing steady but far away.
She kissed his throat. He didn’t kiss her back.
She moaned his name— he didn’t speak hers.
The sheets tangled. The room filled with sound—but not feeling.
When it was over, she reached for him. He turned away.
But Isadora didn’t mind.
She had never needed his love. Only his attention.
---
Days passed. Lilith stayed in the dungeon.
Camren visited twice, but even he seemed distant. A soft word here. A stolen apple there. Then silence.
His last visit, he felt sad, his eyes carrying more pity than they normally do.
She couldn't ask what was wrong, but she knew something had gone wrong or was about to.
And then—finally—the guards returned for her.
They said nothing. She didn’t ask.
She rose slowly, hands clenched at her sides. There were no tears in her eyes now. No fear in her steps. Only a dull numbness that wrapped around her.
She was taken to a room, accompanied by maids who helped to freshen her up and give her clean clothes, they gave her food too.
When the maids were done, they knocked on the door and the guards came in while the maids left.
The guards took her back to Tristan’s chambers. The door closed behind her like the mouth of a beast.
Tristan stood near the fireplace this time, shirt half-buttoned, cuffs loose at his wrists.
He didn’t say a word.
She didn’t plead.
He approached her slowly, his touch just as rough, his grip just as strong.
But this time—she didn’t fight.
Neither did she scream.
She lay there, her body still beneath his weight, her breath steady.
When it ended, he looked at her. Expecting something. Maybe hate. Maybe tears. He felt somewhat disappointed.
She was used to it already, she was used to the pains.
She gave him nothing.
Lilith stood on her own.
Pulled her dress back over her bruised skin.
Walked to the bathroom to wash up, she came out and left his chambers.
The guards came to escort her back to the dungeon, she noticed Camren at the corner, his sad look, he felt genuine pain for her, he wished he could help. He wished he could talk some sense into Tristan but he would take it as treason, betrayal and probably even kill him for it. He was his friend but he knew what he was capable of.
The guards pulled her along the hallway, she wasn’t resisting—she didn’t stumble.
She had come to a conclusion that this is her life and she has to accept it.
Being a s*x slave to the biggest Mafia boss in the country— what else could go wrong?
- Writer
