Page 86 of Rescuing Sophia

I will get him back.

No matter the cost.

THIRTY

Sophia

Malfor’s smilewidens as he reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a sleek, black collar.

“Strip.” His voice is as cold and unyielding as iron. The word hangs in the air, leaving no room for hesitation or disobedience.

My fingers tremble as I fumble with my clothing, peeling away the thin fabric that clings to my skin. Each piece I remove is another layer of dignity stripped away, leaving me exposed and vulnerable before him. The air is cool against my bare skin, the chill biting at my exposed flesh.

Once I’m completely naked, Malfor steps closer, his gaze raking over me with a mix of cruelty and satisfaction. He lifts the collar, the weight of it heavy in his hands, before snapping it around my throat.

The metal is cold against my skin, the mechanism locking into place—a tangible reminder of my captivity. His fingers linger at the clasp, brushing against my skin with a touch that sends a shiver down my spine—a touch that is almost gentle but filled with the promise of pain.

“Clothing is a privilege,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a sadistic grin. “One that you must earn.”

I swallow hard, the metal collar pressing uncomfortably against my throat as I nod, knowing that anything less than full compliance will only worsen my situation.

Malfor turns sharply on his heel, and I follow, my bare feet padding silently across the cold floor. He leads me through the winding corridors of his fortress, each step echoing in the silence until we reach the outer walls.

The walls are high and imposing, a constant reminder of my imprisonment. Malfor’s men stand in neat rows along the perimeter, their eyes tracking my every move with an unsettling mix of indifference and hunger. Their expressions are unreadable, but I feel their judgment, their silent approval of Malfor’s control over me.

“The collar you wear is not just a symbol of your status but a deterrent to escape.” Malfor barely glances at me as he speaks, focusing instead on his fingernails. He picks at a cuticle with disinterest, as if this conversation is a tedious chore, his voice detached and bored. “Approach the wall,” Malfor orders, his voice leaving no room for hesitation.

I take a step forward, dread coiling in my stomach. The collar buzzes softly, a low hum that vibrates against my skin. I freeze, but Malfor’s cold, unyielding gaze pushes me forward.

I take another step, and the buzzing intensifies. I bite my lip, trying to brace myself, but nothing can prepare me for the shock that follows.

The collar jolts, sending a sharp, electric pain through my body. I gasp, my muscles seizing up as I stagger back, but Malfor’s voice cuts through the pain, relentless and cruel.

“Keep going. You don’t stop until you touch the wall.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I force myself forward. Another step, another jolt. The pain is unbearable, a searing, white-hot agony that travels through every nerve in my body. I can’t stop myself from crying out, my voice cracking as the shocks increase in intensity with every inch closer to the wall.

I try to fight it, try to push past the pain, but my body betrays me. The closer I get, the more violent the shocks become, each one more punishing than the last. My legs give out beneath me, and Icollapse onto the ground, trembling violently, tears streaming down my face.

But Malfor is unyielding. He stands there, watching me with a twisted smile, taking pleasure in my torment.

“Touch the wall,” he repeats, his voice laced with sadistic pleasure. “Or I’ll make you do it all over again.”

I try to force myself up, try to reach out, but the pain is too much. My body refuses to obey, locked in a cycle of agony and fear. I can’t do it—I can’t reach the wall, and Malfor knows it.

He’s teaching me a lesson, one I’ll never forget. I’m nothing more than a plaything to be used and discarded at his will.

Finally, he strides over, his boots clicking on the ground with an air of finality. He grabs me by the hair, yanking me to my feet with a force that sends fresh waves of pain shooting through my scalp.

“This is only the beginning,” he whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Remember this pain because it will be your constant companion until you learn your place.”

Malfor leads me back to my cell, the darkened corridor echoing with the heavy clang of his boots. My body aches with every step, each footfall sending jolts of pain through my bruised and battered skin. When we reach the small, windowless cell that has become my prison, he shoves me inside with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

I crumple to the ground, my body wracked with sobs. I’m too weak, too broken to even think of fighting back. All I can do is lie there, the taste of defeat bitter on my tongue, knowing that Malfor’s lesson has been learned.

The door slams shut, the lock clicking into place with a finality that sends a shiver down my spine.

The darkness rushes in, thick and suffocating, pressing against my eyes until the lines between reality and nightmare blur. I crawl forward, my hands outstretched, feeling for the cold, hard surface of the cot. My fingers graze the thin mattress, and I collapse onto it, curling into myself, trying to ward off the biting chill that seeps into my bones.

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