Page 87 of Dangerous Beginnings

With a steadying breath, I follow him, the key clutched tightly in my hand as I step into the darkness after him. The air inside is musty and stale, the scent of damp earth mingling with the faint aroma of pine. Once we’re down, Aslanov looks at me before opening another eerie steel door. And as the door opens with a crack, my heart stops.

On a chair in the middle of the room is the man who has constantly haunted me, mentally and physically. Ever since I was a child. Mystepfather.He’s tied to a chair and has dried blood on the side of his face, he looks skinny. He looks defiant. As soon as he sees me, he screams at me, in anger. But the tape over his mouth muffles the sound.

The sight of him sends a shiver down my spine, a visceral reaction to years of fear and pain inflicted upon me. Despite the tape over his mouth, his eyes burn with a fierce intensity, his defiance palpable even in his restrained state. I’m frozen in the doorway.

Aslanov’s voice cuts through the silence, his words a chilling command that sends a tremor through my already frayed nerves. “Do not speak to her,” he orders, his tone carrying a weight of authority that brooks no disobedience.

I swallow hard, trying to push down the rising tide of fear threatening to consume me. My stepfather’s presence is a reminder of the darkness that has haunted me for so long, a darkness that I thought I had escaped. But here he is, bound and helpless before me, a stark reminder of the trauma that still lingers beneath the surface. Aslanov moves behind me, his proximity sending a shiver down my spine. His body guides me inside the room. His body heat radiates against my skin, a stark contrast to the coldness of the room. I steal a glance at my stepfather, his eyes boring into mine with a mixture of anger and defiance. Despite everything, a small part of me feels bad at the sight of him. Summoning all the courage I can muster, I turn toAslanov, my voice trembling slightly as I speak.

“What is he doing here?” I ask, my words barely above a whisper but filled with a quiet intensity. Aslanov’s gaze flickers to mine, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there is silence, the weight of his gaze bearing down on me like a heavy burden. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and menacing.

“He’s here to answer for his sins,” he says, his words dripping with venom. I feel a chill run down my spine at his words. He trashes around in his chair. Aslanov his hot breath comes down next to my ear, his lips touching my lobe. “Tell me, Isabella.” I whimper. “Is he worth it to live life? It’s your choice.” My stepfather’s face now radiates panic. “I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you decide.”

Aslanov’s arms come around me, embracing me. It’s power that radiates off. He rests his chin on the top of my head. I follow the eyes of my stepfather; they are focused on Aslanov. This is what fear looks like on people’s faces as they stare at him. This is what he sees when people look at him. I find myself caught between conflicting emotions. The warmth of his embrace contrasts sharply with the cold dread coiling in the pit of my stomach. My gaze fixates on my stepfather, his eyes wide with fear, a sight I never thought I’d witness. He looks bad, beaten up and starved. Aslanov has already inflicted torment on him, and I had no idea. God may know how long he has been locked here. It somehow reminds me of who the man behind me is again. Howdangeroushe is. Yet his warmth keeps me sane and somehow, he scares me far less than the man in the chair.

Despite the years of torment my stepfather has inflicted upon me, a part of me hesitates at the thought of condemning him to whatever fate Aslanov has in store.

“Tell me what to do with him.” Aslanov’s voice, low and commanding, breaks through the tension-laden air, his words a stark reminder of the power he holds in this moment. When Ifirst met him, he had told me he is the punisher himself in this world. Now I know what he meant. He’s deciding who lives and dies, yet right now he is asking me. I decide.

Caught between the weight of my past and the uncertainty of the future, I struggle to find the words to answer him. Every instinct screams for justice, for punishment to be meted out to the man who has caused me so much pain. But beneath the anger and the fear, a small voice whispers of mercy, of forgiveness. Because as much as I want to feel heartless, I don’t. That’s the difference between me and the man sitting in front of me. Yet all the pain of all those years haunts me every day. All the pain he has caused, not only to me but to my mother as well. It wasn’t all her fault. He ruined me, he ruined the child in me. And as my heart can’t rise further in my throat Aslanov presses his lips against my ear, his words drumming down to my soul. “Command me.”

Chapter 48

Kill for You

Isabella

‘Command me,’ his words reverberate in my mind. As I stand there, paralyzed by the weight of Aslanov’s question, my mind races with conflicting emotions. The memories of years of abuse flood my thoughts, each one a painful reminder of the torment my stepfather has inflicted upon me. But beneath the anger and the fear, there’s a small flicker of something else—a flicker of mercy, of forgiveness. Yet, I can’t ignore the deep-seated desire for justice, for retribution against the man who has caused me so much pain. Summoning all the strength I can muster, I meet Aslanov’s gaze head-on, my voice trembling slightly as I speak.

“Make him suffer,” I whisper, my words barely audible but filled with a quiet intensity.

Aslanov’s lips curl into a menacing smile, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. “Your wish is mycommand,” he says, his voice low and menacing. I swallow. “Any last words for the dead man?” Aslanov speaks from behind me.

My stepfather starts screaming and thrashes around, meeting his faith causes him to dwell on it.

“You little shit!” he suddenly screams as he’s accomplished to spit the gag out. I shiver, but when Aslanov his hands brace my shoulders and the fear in me disappears.

“Do you remember all the empty threats you’ve spoken to me over the years?” I pause, walking closer to him. “All the horrible things you’ve said, done, and promised?” His face is filled with anger.

I point at Aslanov in the corner of the room, while my facenever leaves his. “He,” I pause again, picking my next words very carefully, “he’s the one who will make those threats a reality. And believe me, you’ll beg for the mercy you never showed me. Your time of terrorizing me is over. Enjoy your suffering—I know I will.”

With that he screams at me again, cursing me repeatedly. And I swear I can feel Aslanov smirking behind me.

“You filthy whore!”

Aslanov comes into view and starts to put on gloves, knowing that this isn’t going to end well for him. But a guard enters and Aslanov nods at him.

“Get upstairs.”

I stay still, wanting to see him suffer. Instead, he comes closer and mentions for me to go with him to the door.

“You won’t ever be convicted of this, no blood on your hands, no witness.” His words sink in, and maybe he’s right. That’s the best. He’s protecting me.

I swallow before nodding, taking one last look at him, hoping to never see his face again. I turn around, walking back with the guard behind me. My heart is rising as my steps echo in the dirty hallway. And when we reach the final door, screams fill the chamber. And for once, I smirk. As we step out into the cool night air, a sense of freedom washes over me, a weight lifted from my shoulders. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp night air, letting it cleanse me of the darkness that has plagued me for so long. He’s going to be gone. Never tormenting me again. Physically, at least.

But as I walk away from that hellish place, I know that the scars of my past will never truly fade. They will always be a part of me, a reminder of the horrors I’ve endured and the strength it took to survive them. The mental healing will take longer.

In the stillness of the night, I find myself enveloped in the silent anticipation of Aslanov’s return. The mansion, vast and echoing with the whispers of shadows, feels colder, more foreboding as I wait. Despite my attempts to stay awake, my eyelids grow heavy, and I succumb to a restless slumber on the couch in the living room, a space away from the dark memories of earlier.

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