Page 25 of Dangerous Beginnings

Her sobs do not subside, and the trembling of her body continues. The raw emotion —the pain, the sadness—is hard to ignore. I find myself grappling with an unusual surge of empathy, something I rarely allow myself to feel.

“Enough,” I reply sharply. “You’re coming with me.”

I reach out and grasp her arm, pulling her to her feet with a force that brooks no argument. Her body trembles against mine, and her fear is almost tangible, clinging to me as I lift her. Tears stream down her face, mingling with the fabric of myshirt, staining it with her distress. I can feel her sobs against my chest, her breath hot and erratic as she clings to me in a mix of desperation and resignation.

I carry her with steady, deliberate steps through the corridor, her small frame cradled against me. The contrast between her trembling form and my unyielding strength is stark, a reminder of the power dynamics at play. As we reach the bathroom, I push open the door and step inside.

I storm into the bathroom as I turn on the faucet for the bath. It takes about two minutes to fill it up enough to form a water pool. I lift the terrified girl into the bath as hot water touches her bare legs, soaking the bottom of the dress shirt she is wearing. She stills a little bit, while tears still stream down her face. I roll up my sleeves and balance myself above her with my hands on the wall watching over her as she slowly calms down.

A deep sigh releases itself from my lips. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t meet my eyes, and doesn’t release all the tension cooped up inside. She is still heavily crying, just softer. As I hang above her, I notice that she isn’t looking down. She is looking at my gun? I intensely watch her as I reach my hand towards the holster, and immediately she panics again. I take the gun out and place it on the floor. Yet she still is having a panic attack—what the fuck is it then? Just my presence overall? Which would be logical. But her eyes remain around my waist, does she think I am going to rape her? I look down, trying to find the spot her eyes are focused on.

It’s mybelt.

I unfasten the belt and throw it on the floor, kicking it away with my boot. her breathing stills, but more silent tears fall down her cheeks as she stares at the belt on the floor, out of reach.

Silence. Finally. The bright lighting brings out the paleness of her skin and I can see the state of her face better. Her red hair is completely tangled, her eyes wide, and bruises everywhere. Myeyes dwell across her exposed skin, observing some scars.

Silent tears fall down her cheeks.“Fuck,”I curse under my breath. Slowly her dark brown eyes reach mine. I stare at her. “Finished?” I ask in a slightly irritated tone. My ears still hurt, but it’s not just my ears that annoy me. It’s the eerie feeling in my chest.Who the fuck caused this?Her lips start to tremble, and I groan.

I crouch down beside the tub, the cold edge pressing against my knee. She’s calmer now, and her eyes flicker with awareness as she takes in her surroundings.

The fear is unmistakable. It’s in the way her body tenses, her gaze darting across the room, drinking in the details of the dark gray walls, the gilded accents, the massive rainfall shower on the far side of the space. I don’t miss the way her eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. She didn’t expect this—opulence in the Devil’s den.

I let her look. Let her process. Let her think. I know exactly what’s going through her mind.

I can sense her fear, a tangible thing in the air. I can taste it, sharp and bitter. It’s intoxicating. Yet beneath it, there’s something else—a faint crack in her defenses. Confusion. Weakness.

I see it in the way she looks at me when her gaze finally settles. It lingers for a second too long, drawn in despite herself. I see the way her breath catches, the way she instinctively shrinks under my gaze. She tries to fight it, to steel herself against me, but I’m already under her skin.

Good.

I lean in just slightly, enough to ensure my words hit their mark.

“From now on, I want you on your best behavior. Do you understand?” My voice is steady, low, and commanding. I don’t need to raise it; the weight of it is enough.

Her throat works as she swallows hard, her lips parting in a trembling nod. She’s listening now, her defiance cracking like ice under pressure.

“This is not a permanent solution,” I continue, softening my tone just enough to make her doubt the severity of my intent. “But it’s a start. I’m giving you this moment to calm down, to regain some composure.”

I let the silence stretch, savoring the way her gaze flits away and then back to mine, trapped between fear and resignation.

“Use it wisely,” I finish, my voice a quiet command that leaves no room for argument.

She nods again, quicker this time. But that’s not enough. Not for me.

“Did you scream your voice away?” I ask, leaning closer. Her lips tremble, and I see her hesitation, the way she grapples with herself. She’s not used to answering. Not used to obedience.

I narrow my eyes, letting the weight of my silence bear down on her.

“Perhaps answer with a proper response,” I demand.

Her voice is small, hoarse, but steady enough when she finally speaks.

“Yes,” she whispers, rubbing her cheek, her gaze fixed on mine as if afraid to look away. “I understand.”

I collect a bit of shampoo in my hands and position myself behind her as I wash her hair. I detangle every knot with a comb and rinse the shampoo out. She leans into my touch as I rinse her hair. I could easily drown her, problem solved.

But I don’t, and don’t think I could if I wanted to.

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