A slow, mocking chuckle clawed its way up my throat as I turned my gaze to Peter. His face was a wreck—swollen eyes, trembling lips, sweat and tears mixing in the hollows of his cheeks. He looked like a man who had already died inside, but I wasn't done with him yet.
"Don't worry, Peter," I purred, my voice dripping with sadistic amusement. "This is just the beginning." I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his ear. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll beg for death. And when you do… I'll laugh in your face."
His breath hitched, his body going rigid. "Y-You can't—"
"I can." I cut him off, my fingers tightening around the magical tool in my pocket—the one that bound him to the System, the one that made him nothing more than a plaything. "And I will."
