Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 83: The Drop Tower

Chapter 83: The Drop Tower

"Bring her to me," Roman said coldly, his voice calm but deadly as he sat comfortably on a bench in one of the biggest amusement parks in the city—completely deserted this early in the morning.

His men stood scattered around him, like shadows, silent and alert.

"Okay, sir," one of his men responded with a respectful bow before disappearing into the distance.

A few minutes passed, and the silence was broken by the harsh scuffling of shoes against the concrete.

The same man returned—this time accompanied by another guard, both dragging a struggling young woman between them.

She was blindfolded with a small cotton sack over her head, her hands tied behind her back.

She kicked and fought as best she could, her movements erratic, wild.

Roman watched her struggle with a slight smirk, the corners of his mouth lifting with cold amusement as she was thrown roughly to the ground before him—on her knees, defeated.

"Rachel Jenkins," Roman called, his voice laced with controlled menace.

The sound of her name spoken by that voice sent a wave of chills down her spine, though she couldn’t yet see who had said it.

Rachel trembled slightly. She didn’t know who he was—not yet. Her head was still covered, and her breathing grew erratic.

Roman raised his hand lazily, signaling the man standing behind her.

"Remove the sack."

The guard didn’t waste time. He yanked it off briskly. _{f.re(e) w.e(b)nov el.c.om}

Rachel blinked rapidly, her face dirty and her hair disheveled from the rough handling.

As her vision cleared, her eyes widened in disbelief. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw the figure seated in front of her.

"Roman Thompson," she muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, that’s me... sister-in-law," Roman replied coolly, his gaze boring into her like a dagger.

Earlier that morning, Rachel had gone for a jog with Logan, both of them enjoying the early calm of the city streets.

But somewhere near the apartment, she had gotten separated.

That was when they caught her—ambushed and dragged away before she even had time to scream.

And now, here she was, in the middle of an eerily quiet amusement park, surrounded by armed men.

Not a single soul in sight. No witnesses. No escape.

Her breathing quickened as she turned her head left and right, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

She was trapped. Every direction she turned, there were men—tall, muscled, in black—and they weren’t moving.

They were stationed like statues. It didn’t feel real.

Roman’s voice cut through the rising panic.

"Do you know why I brought you here?" he asked, his eyes fixed on her like a predator sizing up his prey.

Rachel snapped her gaze back to him, voice loud and defiant despite the fear in her chest. "You didn’t bring me here—you kidnapped me!"

Before she could say another word, a guard standing behind her suddenly pressed a heavy hand down on her head, forcing it lower. Rachel gasped, caught off guard.

"Shh," the man hissed. "You like your head, right? Then don’t raise your voice at the boss."

Rachel froze, the weight on her head painful and humiliating. Her eyes welled up, but she gritted her teeth and fought the urge to cry.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked again, voice trembling. "What have I done to deserve this?"

Roman stood from his bench and slowly walked over to where she knelt.

He crouched down in front of her, lowering himself to eye level. His presence was suffocating, dangerous.

"My darling sister-in-law," he said, his face inches from hers.

Rachel’s expression twisted in anger.

"Stop calling me that annoying nickname—I hate it," she snapped. But her voice faltered when she looked into his eyes.

They were deadly. Cold. Emotionless. She couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a second. Her eyes dropped quickly to the ground.

Roman’s jaw tightened. His voice came out quieter this time, more dangerous. "And why don’t you want me to be your in-law? Or... don’t you know about me and your sister?"

He said the word deliberately.

"Julie."

As he said it, his hand reached forward, his index finger pressing into the crook of Rachel’s neck to force her chin up.

"Ouch," she winced.

"You may regret asking," she said suddenly, her voice low and cryptic, her lips twitching into a smirk. "If I tell you... it’ll change everything."

Roman didn’t respond immediately. He studied her face, watching her closely, trying to decipher if she was bluffing. His face remained blank, unreadable.

Rachel saw that silence as a small victory. She smiled wider.

"She’s not my sister," she said suddenly, her voice bold, as if she had just dropped a bomb. "She’s not a Jenkins. Not even blood-related. She’s just a dummy... someone her parents abandoned."

Roman’s eyes darkened, though his expression didn’t move. He slowly stood up without a word and walked back to his seat.

"Let’s go," he said simply.

Rachel’s heart leapt. They’re leaving... they’re really leaving?

But her relief was short-lived.

Just as Roman turned his back, one of the guards behind her suddenly yanked her by the hair—hard.

"Aaahh!" Rachel screamed, the sound cutting through the empty park. "Stop it! You’re hurting me! Please! It’s painful!"

But no one moved. No one flinched. No one helped.

They had all turned deaf.

"Please," Rachel sobbed, writhing in pain as her scalp burned. "Let me go, please..."

But her cries went unanswered.

Roman didn’t even glance back.

The air shifted. Roman tilted his head slightly, then turned to his right.

"Take her to the Drop Tower," he said coldly, his tone like ice laced with steel. "Tie her up. Let her feel what it means to mock someone from above."

Rachel’s blood drained from her face.

The Drop Tower stood at the far end of the park—tall, rusted from disuse, yet still sturdy and ominous.

It used to be a thrill ride, shooting riders to the top and then plunging them down suddenly, stomachs dropping with every fall.

She had always hated heights.

The moment she heard those words—Drop Tower—her body jerked violently. "No! No—no, please! Not that! Not up there! Please!"

But the guards didn’t stop. Two of them dragged her like a rag doll.

Her feet scraped along the ground as she kicked and wailed.

"I’m scared of heights! Please, anything else—Roman!"

Her voice cracked. "I’ll apologize. Please..."

Her screams echoed into the wind.

Roman said nothing. He simply followed behind slowly, his hands in his coat pockets, emotionless.

The rest of the men trailed after him, their boots thudding rhythmically on the cracked pavement.

When they reached the ride, Rachel was already shaking like a leaf.

The towering structure loomed above her like death itself. The air was thinner here, and colder. The sky looked farther away.

She shook her head violently. "No, please... I’m begging you, I’m not strong enough—I’ll pass out—I’ll die—"

"Perfect," Roman murmured.

Two guards hoisted her up into the ride seat, strapping her wrists and ankles with thick ropes.

Her arms were spread out against the cold steel frame, her back pressed to the vertical track.

The seat was no longer functioning, but the frame still held weight.

"Lift her," Roman commanded.

The rusty manual lift system groaned as they pulled her up—not fully to the top, but high enough that she could see the empty park stretch around her like a graveyard.

Rachel screamed as the wind slapped her face.

"No, please—I can’t! I can’t—let me down! Roman, I swear I’ll be good—I’ll stay quiet! Don’t do this to me!"

Her pleas turned to sobs. Tears poured down her face.

Roman looked up from below, eyes sharp. "Let her feel it... then bring her down."

The men released the pulley brakes.

The jolt wasn’t fast—it wasn’t a real drop.

Rachel shrieked at the top of her lungs, shaking uncontrollably as they brought her down.

Her legs gave out as soon as they untied her.

But before she could collapse completely, Roman’s voice rang again:

"Once more."

"No! No, please—I beg you—I’ll faint! I’ll faint!"

"Then faint."

’ You thinks this is punishment. You hasn’t seen real punishment yet,

Julie cried because of you. And i will make you feel what that silence tastes like.’ Roman said in his head.

The guards tied her again, tighter this time.

The second lift was even worse. Her vision blurred, her stomach twisted, and her ears rang.

As they began lowering her again, her mouth opened to scream—nothing came out.

Her body slumped.

When they reached the ground, Rachel was unconscious.

One guard leaned in and checked her pulse. "She fainted."

Roman’s jaw flexed.

"Dump her at the corner of the park. The one by the broken carousel."

"Yes, sir."

They carried her limp body to the far edge of the park, near the rusted-out carousel where faded horses lay on their sides, half-buried in sand and time.

She was dumped unceremoniously beside one of the horses, dirt staining her face, her lips cracked and pale.

Roman walked up slowly, looking down at her.

He crouched, picking up a strand of her hair between two fingers, then letting it fall.

"You’re lucky she’s the kind one between you two," he murmured. "If it were up to me... this would’ve been your funeral."

He stood up again, turned his back, and walked away.

His men followed.

By the time the sun rose fully over the abandoned park, Rachel Jenkins was alone—tied, bruised, unconscious, and forgotten in a corner where no one would hear her cry.

Not that anyone would care.