A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

"Where did you find them?" I stammered, regretting the question as soon as it left my lips. There were so many things I wanted to know, but my frozen mind couldn’t form the words.

The Lycan king’s hands clamped onto my shoulders. "It doesn’t matter," he said, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. Even without seeing his face, I knew he wore his wicked smirk – or should I say, smug smile? Whatever it was, it always infuriated me.

He gestured toward a table displaying an arsenal of torture tools with rusty hinges, razor-sharp edges, and blood-crusted surfaces. The air reeked of iron and pain, as if the tools had been bathed in others’ suffering. Bloodstains marred the metal, like gruesome fingerprints, and a faint scent of copper lingered.

My gaze drifted over the tools, and my stomach churned. I didn’t need to ask who had used them; the answer was all too clear.

"You want me to torture them?" I whispered, already knowing the answer.

He smiled. "Yes."

He picked up a bloodied iron claw, its tips razor-sharp, and placed it in my trembling hands. "Go on," he urged, his voice dripping with anticipation.

The claw felt heavy in my trembling hand. "No," I whispered, trying to drop the claw, but the Lycan king’s grip on my shoulders tightened.

"Ah, darling," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "Don’t you want revenge? Don’t you want them to pay?" His fingers traced the sensitive skin on my neck, where the slave collar had once rested, and then moved to my wrist, where the chains had bound my hands together.

His words echoed in my mind... tempting.

I glared at the battered bodies hanging from the chains - those rogues were the ones who had ravaged my life. They had ruined my escape! They were the scourge that had enslaved me, forcing me to dance to the Lycan king’s twisted whims. My freedom, stolen. My soul, shackled.

The Lycan king’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "See? You’re not as innocent as you seem."

He leaned in closer, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Torture them. Make them scream. Make them beg."

My heart pounded.

My soul recoiled.

But my fingers tightened around the claw.

I hated that I was being controlled by him like a puppet on strings, reacting precisely as he wanted. I detested the fact I was dancing in his twisted playground, every step orchestrated to satisfy his sadistic desires. Yet, I would let him control me. Just this once.

I raised the claw, its razor-sharp tips glinting in the dim light. The rogues’ eyes flickered, their swollen faces contorted in fear.

"Begin," the Lycan king urged, his voice dripping with anticipation.

My hand trembled, hesitating. Torture was a line I never thought I’d cross.

His grip on my shoulders tightened. "Don’t disappoint me."

I took a deep breath, the claw hovering above the nearest rogue. His eyes pleaded for mercy.

Suddenly, memories flooded my mind: the slave market, the auctions, the endless suffering.

My grip on the claw tightened.

The Lycan king’s smile spread.

And I struck.

The rogue’s scream echoed through the damp chamber, mingling with the stench of blood and fear. The sound sent shivers down my spine.

"I never thought I’d be capable of this," I whispered, my voice barely audible as I stared at the claw stained with fresh blood.

The Lycan king’s eyes gleamed with approval. "You have a natural talent, darling."

I raised the claw again, its tip slicing through flesh with sickening ease. The rogues’ bodies jerked.

How easily we succumb to darkness.

Their pleas turned to agonized screams.

And yet...I felt nothing.

No remorse.

No pity.

Only a hollow satisfaction.

As I struck, the claw sliced through flesh, revealing jagged bone beneath. Blood sprayed, splattering the stone floor with crimson liquids.

The rogue’s scream shattered the air, echoing off cold walls.

The claw shredded their muscles.

Tendons snapping like twigs.

Skin tore open, exposing raw flesh.

Their bodies convulsed, screams turning to gurgles.

Blood bubbled up from their lips, a sick, crimson mess.

"More," the Lycan king urged.

My hand moved.

The claw dropping like a Guillotine.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Perhaps I was looking for a way to unleash my pent-up emotions all along. Maybe that’s why I felt taking revenge on the rogues who had screwed me over was the perfect means.

My gaze burned with hatred as I glared at the rogues. They were the monsters, the fiends, and ones that had shattered my dreams.

It was their fault I couldn’t escape! Their fault I was trapped in a living nightmare! Their fault I’ve endured countless humiliations and agonies!

They stole my freedom, my dignity, my soul. And now, it was my turn to collect the debt. I kept close to these thoughts. They were my justification for causing them this harm so I held it close.

The claw trembled in my hand, aching to inflict more pain, but I dropped it instead. The metal clattered on the stone floor as tears streamed down my face. My throat burned, from the screams I was holding in. My body shook, wracked with sobs.

I felt worse. It was infuriating that I was feeling worse, not better – but fucking worse.

The Lycan king’s approval grated on my ears. "You did great, darling." His hand closed around my shoulder, his touch making my skin crawl.

"You may go now. I’ll finish the rest," he dismissed, and I nodded numbly, allowing Sabastine to guide me out of the dungeon. The heavy door creaked shut behind us, muffling the screams.

As we walked, my white gown was smeared with blood. The stain spread, a grim reminder of my actions.

Sebastian’s silent escort unnerved me. His eyes seemed to hold a mixture of concern, a rare emotion in those cold eyes of his.

We climbed the winding staircase, leaving the dungeon’s darkness behind. The castle’s opulent halls enveloped us, their grandeur mocking my blood-stained gown.

As we reached the top, Sabastine spoke, his voice low. "You shouldn’t have done that."

I spun, my eyes flashing. "You think I wanted to?"

His gaze held mine. "No, I just want you to know you don’t have to become a monster to defeat one."

I shook my head, tears welling up. "I’m no monster."

Sabastine’s expression softened. "I’m not judging you, My lady. The Lycan king’s world demands flexibility and adaptation, after all."

We stood there, the silence thick.

"Come," Sabastine said finally. "Let’s get you cleaned up."