~A Taste of Freedom~
The basement had become a prison of her mind as much as of her body. Every corner, every shadow, every stone wall was a reminder of the man who owned her. Yet, in that oppressive darkness, a thought had begun to form—a spark of defiance, fragile but insistent.
"I just want to go outside… just once," she whispered to the emptiness of the room, her hands gripping the sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "I will have no problem… if you, or your men, follow me. I will obey. I won't scream. I won't run. Please… just one day. I need to feel the sun. I need to eat…"
Her voice cracked, swallowed by the stone silence. She didn't know if he would ever hear her, if he would even consider such a request. And yet, speaking it aloud, wishing it aloud, gave her a thread of hope.
Alessio did hear. He had heard everything from the beginning. Every breath, every tear, every prayer that spilled silently into the darkness. But he didn't respond immediately. He watched her from the shadows above the stairs, unseen, silent, letting the words sink in.
When he finally appeared, the basement seemed smaller, heavier, as if the air itself feared him. He didn't speak at first. He only observed. Gray eyes piercing her, lingering on every tremor of her body, every flicker of emotion in her face. The soft moonlight streaming through the small window highlighted the sharp angles of his face, the veins standing out along his muscular forearms, the broad line of his shoulders under the black suit that clung to him like a second skin.
"You wish to leave?" His voice was low, velvety, dangerous. "Even for a day?"
Elena swallowed hard. "Yes… just a day. Please. I'll obey every rule. I won't even breathe without your permission if you want me to. Just… please."
Alessio stepped closer, the shadow of him consuming the room. He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against hers—not roughly, but intentionally. The contact was electric. His fingers traced her wrist, delicate yet firm, reminding her of who owned her. She shivered, instinctively lowering her gaze, her pulse hammering in a way that scared her.
"Obedience must be earned," he murmured. His words were dark, almost a promise. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against her temple in a motion that was intimate and terrifying all at once. A small, physical claim. His presence pressed against her in a way she couldn't escape.
Elena's chest heaved. Her lips parted as if to protest, but she found no words. She stayed silent, obeying, because she knew resistance now meant surrendering entirely to him—and she wasn't ready for that.
"You will go," he said finally, his hand leaving her wrist, moving to rest on the chair beside him. "But there will be rules. You obey, you do not speak without permission, you do not turn your head, you do not falter. You follow me, and only me, or my men will enforce it. Fail… and you will return to this basement, and the lesson will be harsher."
"Yes," she whispered, barely audible. Her body was trembling—not from fear alone, but from the thrill of even this small concession.
Alessio's gaze lingered. Gray eyes, sharp and relentless, softened fractionally—but only for a heartbeat. Then the storm returned. He gestured, and one of his men opened the door. The cold night air spilled in, brushing against her skin. She shivered involuntarily.
"You may go," he said, voice calm yet brimming with ownership. "Consider this a reward."
Reward. The word echoed in her mind, strange and unsettling. She had never imagined freedom would feel like a prize. But it did.
He didn't hand her a key, didn't release her entirely. He walked beside her, close enough that his shadow merged with hers. His presence was overwhelming, a constant pressure she could feel in her chest, a reminder that he could claim her entirely at any second.
Elena obeyed. Silent, trembling, walking beside him and his men, following every rule he had silently laid down. She felt exposed, yet safe in the strangest way, knowing that nothing could happen without him allowing it. Every step outside, every taste of fresh air, every faint warmth of the sun on her skin, was a reminder of the power he held over her.
They stopped near a small street-side cafe he had deemed safe, one where no one would recognize her. Alessio didn't sit. He stood behind her, hand brushing lightly against her back when she reached for a glass of water, reminding her of the invisible leash.
"You may eat," he permitted, voice a low growl. "But remember—every bite, every sip, is mine to allow. Do not forget who you belong to."
She obeyed. Each bite, each swallow, felt like a battle between terror and relief. She ate slowly, savoring the taste of food as if it had been denied her for months—and perhaps it had.
Alessio watched silently, gray eyes never leaving her. He didn't touch her again—not yet—but the knowledge of his hand so close, of his control so absolute, was enough to keep her in line. Every glance, every flicker of his expression, was a warning and a promise entwined.
When she finally finished, Alessio stepped closer. One hand brushed her hair back from her face, his thumb trailing along her cheekbone—a mark, a claim, a reminder. She didn't flinch. She didn't move. She stayed silent. She obeyed.
"Good," he murmured, the faintest shadow of something unreadable in his tone. "You've done well today. Perhaps you'll be allowed this again, if you continue to prove yourself."
Elena swallowed hard, cheeks burning. Reward, obedience, possession—all mixed together in a way that made her heart pound and stomach twist. She realized something dangerous: she was beginning to understand what it meant to exist in his world. To survive, she would need to obey. To endure, she would need to submit—just enough.
They returned to the basement, the night now closing around them like a shroud. She went to the bed, laid down silently, and waited. Alessio didn't speak as he watched her, sitting in his chair, gray eyes flicking over her like a predator savoring prey. But for the first time, Elena didn't fight. She stayed silent. She obeyed.
And in that obedience, she felt the tiniest spark of… safety. A twisted, terrifying safety.
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WHAT DO YOU THINK HE WANTS FROM HER?
IS HE JUST USING HER? or IS SHE SPECIAL?
WHY ELENA STAYED SILENT?
WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WERE IN PLACE OF ELENA?
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