Chapter 146 – Spending the Night at Bianca's, and Lip Losing His Mind
"I'm just doing what I think is right."
Fiona took a long sip of her beer, wearing the air of a moral crusader.
William watched from the side, clicking his tongue in quiet amazement.
He really hadn't expected Fiona to change this fast.
"After we finish these drinks, I'm going to drag Frank out by his collar," Fiona said, slamming her beer glass down on the bar with a thud before turning to William. "You coming with me?"
William shook his head. "Not tonight. I've got something else to take care of."
He still needed to restock weapons for Svetlana's operation. There was no time to tag along to Dottie's place.
More importantly, there was no mission involved. No reward. No upside—aside from punching Frank once or twice. From William's perspective, that simply wasn't worth the trouble.
Hearing his answer, Fiona didn't seem disappointed. She knew William was always busy.
"Alright," she said, nodding.
They ended up having a small celebration at the bar—celebrating Fiona officially becoming a business owner and, in everyone's eyes, finally getting her life back on track.
When it wrapped up, William drove Fiona back to 2119. They shared a quick kiss, then went their separate ways.
As for why they didn't go to Dottie's place afterward—it was simple.
Once Fiona sat in the car and had time to cool down, her true nature reasserted itself.
The moral crusader quietly clocked out.
William wasn't surprised in the slightest.
That kind of swing was only human. Anyone who suddenly got hit with a massive stroke of luck—at least on the surface—would float a little, lose perspective for a bit.
After dropping Fiona off, William drove back to the red-light district.
Same routine as always.
He had Tasha and Nastya keep watch. Most people were still at the main compound, and thanks to Lip's little stunt earlier, the basement was practically empty.
With only two trusted lookouts, William slipped into the basement unnoticed.
Once there, he restocked the armory—buying a fresh batch of handguns through the weapons marketplace and filling the shelves again.
When everything was done, he left the same way he came, got back into his AMG, and started thinking about where to spend the night.
After a moment's thought, one name surfaced.
He hadn't played "games" with Bianca in a while.
So—
Thirty minutes later, outside Bianca's apartment.
William stood at the door holding a bouquet of flowers.
Ding dong.
Inside, Bianca was sitting at her desk, reading a medical textbook. Hearing the doorbell, she frowned slightly.
At this hour? Who could that be?
She slipped a bookmark between the pages, closed the book, and walked to the door.
Peering through the peephole, she saw William standing outside.
Her expression lit up instantly.
She opened the door without hesitation.
"Long time no see," William said with a smile, handing her the flowers. "These are for you."
"Thank you." Bianca's eyes softened as she took them.
She leaned in, hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek.
"Come in."
She set the flowers on the table, found a vase, rinsed it out in the kitchen, and arranged them carefully with fresh water.
Sometimes, the simplest gifts made people the happiest.
William sat down on the couch.
After placing the vase, Bianca joined him, curling naturally into his arms.
Even though William was younger than her, Bianca always felt like she was the one being taken care of when she was with him.
"So," she asked softly, resting against him, "what made you come over tonight?"
"Missed you," William said casually, wrapping an arm around her slender waist.
Bianca rolled her eyes. "Liar. You disappeared for half a year without a single message."
William paused.
Yeah… there really wasn't a good excuse for that.
He shrugged. "Alright, you win. The truth is—I didn't have anywhere to stay tonight."
Naturally, that was also a lie.
In reality, he'd simply been thinking about Bianca.
Hearing such a transparent excuse, Bianca couldn't help but laugh.
She didn't say a word.
Instead, she gently wrapped her arms around William's neck and leaned in, pressing her lips to his.
At first, both of them moved softly, almost cautiously—but as time passed, their restraint gradually gave way, and the intensity grew.
---
Meanwhile, in the red-light district, inside the safehouse.
Lip was struggling like a madman.
Time and again, he tried to close his eyes.
But he couldn't.
A metal clamp held his eyelids open, robbing him of even the right to blink.
To keep his eyes from being permanently damaged, Svetlana periodically dripped eye drops into them.
Watching Lip thrash and convulse, Svetlana finally realized she had underestimated William.
This wasn't a reward.
This was one of the most horrifying punishments imaginable.
Strapped in place, Lip could only stare as several prostitutes swayed and teased right in front of him—close enough to touch, yet utterly unreachable.
His body was immobilized. He couldn't move. He could only watch.
Even without knowing about Lip's impotence, Svetlana could tell this method was deeply perverse.
And unmistakably William's style.
By now, everyone had reached a quiet consensus: William was terrifying.
At that moment, Svetlana had only one thought—do your job well, and never, ever provoke him.
She had no desire to find out what these methods felt like firsthand.
"Mmm—mmm—mmm!"
Lip's mouth was stuffed with a towel. He'd been making those muffled sounds for hours.
His hands were tied behind the chair. His legs were bound to its base.
At first, the restraints hadn't been so extreme—but he'd struggled so violently that the chair had tipped over multiple times.
That was when they tightened everything.
By now, no one even reacted to his muffled cries anymore.
They'd grown used to them.
At one point, a dancer stepped directly in front of Lip and straddled him, crossing her arms loosely around his neck as she began to sway rhythmically.
The overpowering scent and relentless visual assault drove Lip to the brink.
All night long, one dancer after another took turns.
Lip was forced to watch an entire night of erotic performance without pause.
By morning, his eyelids were red and swollen.
After hours of this, Lip's eyes had gone dull—empty, unfocused—like a puppet that had been completely broken.
"Svetlana… maybe we should stop," Mandy said hesitantly. "If this keeps going, I think he might actually die."
Svetlana shrugged.
"Unless the boss says otherwise, do you think I dare stop?"
She pointed at the dancers.
"Keep going. Don't stop."
One of the women hesitated. "We've been dancing all night. We're exhausted. And look at him—he can barely even see anymore. No matter how we dance, I don't think it's registering…"