Content Warning: This story contains scenes of intense physical and sexual violence, abuse, trauma, and kidnapping. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
June ran toward the bedroom, her breath ragged and shallow, panic laced in every step. She had crossed a line—one she knew had terrifying consequences. Her trembling fingers reached for the lock, but she was too late. The door burst open with a deafening crash. Evan stormed in, his voice roaring like thunder.
"How dare you do that to me?!"
His face twisted in rage, a hellish fury lighting up his eyes. June's skin turned a ghostly shade, paler than moonlight. Her heart pounded so violently, it seemed to echo through the bedroom walls.
"I warned you, June," he hissed, stepping closer with every word. "I told you from the start not to test my temper. You're nothing but a slave—a spoil of bloodshed. A prize gifted by the murderer of my father. And yet... you dared throw water on my face? In front of my entire clan?!"
June trembled, rooted to the floor as Evan's shadow loomed over her. With a vice-like grip, he seized her face and slammed her back against the wall.
"Until now, you've only seen my patience," he said, his voice icy and low. "But that ends tonight."
Her lips parted, quivering, trying to speak—but no sound came out. Her voice had abandoned her. His eyes burned into hers, and he sneered.
"What did you say in front of my family? My wife? Now I'll tell you what it means to be someone's wife... you said you'd destroy my pride… my reputation?"
His mouth curled into something twisted and cruel.
"You won't even recognize yourself after tonight."
He shoved her onto the bed and climbed over her, pinning her wrists with brute force. Tears streamed down June's cheeks, her eyes wide with fear, her voice reduced to a whisper.
"Please… l-leave m—"
But he didn't let her finish. For three long hours, Evan unleashed the worst of his violence on her fragile, defenseless body. Her cries for help were swallowed by the walls, her sobs drowned beneath his weight. He showed her no mercy—only brutality.
When he was finally done, when his rage was spent and he had taken what he wanted, he got up and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The sound of the shower echoed.
June lay on the bed, motionless. Her body ached, covered in bruises and scratches, her soul barely tethered to her shattered body. Her eyes, once bright, were dull and empty. Her tears had dried up. She stared at the ceiling like a corpse waiting to be buried.
But the running water stirred something. She blinked. Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself off the bed. Her legs trembled beneath her as she staggered toward the closet, grabbing one of Evan's shirts and pulling it over her broken body. She opened the bedroom door quietly, her fingers tightening around the fabric. Her breath hitched, her eyes hollow. But in her mind, one fire still burned.
I'll make him pay. I'll make him pay for this. For bringing me here. For every bruise on my body. I'll go to the police. And then everyone will see the monster behind the mask of honor and respect.
Poor June. She had always been so naïve. She came from one of the most powerful families in the country. Her father ruled City X, but never had time for her—not really. When she was ten, a blood feud sealed her fate. Her brother had killed the leader of City Y, and to make peace, her hand was promised to that man's heir—as a wife. As a slave.
Her whole life, she'd known she would be given away as compensation. She didn't understand it back then. She only knew that someday, she would pay for a crime that wasn't hers.
Two days ago, on her eighteenth birthday, her father had come into her room.
"Pack your things," he said, barely glancing at her. "You're going where you belong."
For a second, she'd smiled, thinking he'd come to wish her happy birthday. But the smile had died on her lips the moment she saw the emptiness in his eyes.
"Yes… Father," she had said quietly, lowering her gaze.
Did he ever care about me? Was I ever truly his daughter? Why does he only see my brother? Because he's a son… because he's the heir…
Her thoughts were cut off when her father snapped his fingers, impatient.
"Get up. Hurry."
"Yes, Father," she whispered, rising to prepare for a journey she didn't understand.
Later that day, June wandered into her mother's garden—the only place that felt like home. It was the one thing her father had kept after her mother died when she was twelve. Her mind was spinning with confusion, but she wasn't afraid. She had been told the same thing for so long, it had become her reality.
"Boo! Happy Birthday, bestie!" came a familiar, bubbly voice.
June turned to see Kathie, her only friend since childhood, beaming with excitement.
"Hi, Kathie," she said, managing a faint smile.
But Kathie saw through her. Her expression softened as the realization hit her—this was June's last day here. She had forgotten, even in all the birthday excitement. Without a word, Kathie pulled June into a tight hug.
"You're the bravest girl I know," she said, her voice light but full of meaning. "If anyone can get through this, it's you."
June looked up, a flicker of warmth returning to her eyes.
"I'll miss you, Kathie."
"Yeah… I guess I'll miss you more," Kathie smiled, holding back tears as they laughed softly together.
Then June suddenly jolted.
"Oh no! I've gotta go—come with me! I have to give something to someone."
"Where?" Kathie asked, confused.
"To Marita—my mother's old servant. Her house isn't far. I need to give her this key."
June dashed to the closet and pulled it from a small chest.
"Let's go!"
They ran down the street, the wind catching their hair as they hurried to the old part of town.
"Marita! Open the door—it's me, June!" she called, knocking on the wooden frame.
After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing the aged woman.
"June, my child, come in. I've been waiting for you. The key—do you have it?"
June handed it over.
"Your mother gave me this box the night she died. She told me to give it to you on the day you leave this city, my lady."
Marita's wrinkled hands trembled as she held out a small box with a ruby set into the lid.
"Open it," she urged gently.
Inside lay a delicate necklace, strung with three jade stones, and a stack of papers.
"This necklace belonged to your mother," Marita explained. "She received it from her mother. She knew your father would never let you have it… so she entrusted it to me. And these papers—they're some of her hidden properties in City Z. Your father doesn't know. If you ever need a place to run, go there."
June listened closely, her heart aching. Marita helped her fasten the necklace around her neck, hiding it beneath her sweater. She tucked the papers into June's luggage.
"Thank you, Marita. I won't forget your kindness," June whispered, hugging the old woman before stepping out.
She turned to Kathie and handed her the box.
"Take this. Keep it at your house. If we meet again, I'll take it. If not… at least I gave it to someone I love."
Kathie nodded, blinking away tears as she smiled.
They were walking down the street when they noticed a black Benz slowly trailing behind them. Step by step, it crept closer. Before they could speak, four masked men leapt out, surrounding them.
Kathie fought back, smashing the box on one man's head—but he struck her hard, sending her collapsing to the pavement, unconscious.
"KATHIE!" June screamed.
But before she could run to her, a cloth was pressed over her face, and the world went black. Within seconds, the Benz was gone. Kathie lay on the cold street, still and quiet, the box beside her.