Fashioned For Sin

Chapter 20

The sound of footsteps grows louder, echoing down the corridor as the men arrive. I’m led from my room to the central area where the testing will take place. Each step feels heavier, my anxiety building with every footfall. My hands are trembling, but I try to keep my composure, knowing that showing fear might only make things worse.

In the central area, the room is set up like some twisted stage, with harsh lighting that exposes every detail. The other girls are already here, each one looking as nervous and disheveled as I feel. They’re in different sets of lingerie, their eyes darting around, searching for any sign of escape or hope.

I’m positioned at the end of the line, and I watch as the men—well-dressed, with an air of casual cruelty—begin their inspections. They walk past each girl, making comments and jokes that make my stomach churn. The air is thick with their laughter and the sound of their shoes against the cold floor.

Then, the door opens, and Victor Kane steps in. His presence commands instant attention. He’s imposing, with a sharp, calculating gaze that sweeps over the room. The other men defer to him with a mix of respect and apprehension. I can feel the weight of his gaze as it falls upon me.

Kane approaches, his eyes taking in every detail of my appearance. There’s something almost clinical in his assessment, his gaze cold and uninterested. I try to meet his eyes, forcing myself to stay upright despite the terror gnawing at me.

He stops in front of me, his expression unreadable. “And this one?” he asks, his voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of menace.

Brian steps forward, eager to please. “She’s the highest-priced girl here. Very popular.”

Kane nods slowly, his eyes lingering on me. “I see. Let’s see what she’s made of.”

I’m instructed to move to a central spot where I’m put through a series of degrading tests—strutting and posing, enduring their cruel remarks. The men make their bids and comments, the whole process feeling like an endless parade of judgment and humiliation.

As the day drags on, I try to focus on Erik’s advice. The small window of opportunity he mentioned might be my only chance. I keep the paper he gave me close, hoping it will be my ticket to freedom if I can find a way to use it.

Finally, the testing concludes, and the room begins to clear out. I’m left standing in the harsh light, exhausted and emotionally drained. The men’s laughter fades as they depart, leaving behind a chilling silence.

Victor Kane lingers a moment longer, his eyes meeting mine once more. He doesn’t say anything, but the weight of his gaze makes it clear that his decision is still to come. As he walks away, I’m left to wait, my mind racing with fear and determination.

---

Carlo’s reputation precedes him. He’s known as Blade, and now I understand why. His cruel method of marking his victims is infamous. I’ve heard the whispers among the other girls—how he uses a knife to carve his mark into their skin.

He enters the room with a predatory gaze, his eyes locking onto me. “Ready for today’s fun, Blair?” His voice is smooth but laced with malice. I try to keep my composure, but my fear is palpable.

He produces a small, sharp blade from his pocket, its edge gleaming ominously under the harsh light. My breath catches in my throat. The blade is not just a tool; it’s an instrument of his perverse artistry.

Carlo approaches me, his gaze cold and detached. “You know, the girls I’ve marked, they all remember why they call me Blade.” His tone is almost casual, as if discussing the weather.

I’m strapped to the cot, unable to move, my body tensed in anticipation. He starts by tracing the edge of the blade lightly over my skin, sending a shiver through me. The touch is chilling, and I try to suppress the instinctive flinch.

“Today,” he says, “I’m going to give you a personal mark. A reminder of who did this to you.” He positions the blade carefully, his eyes focused on the area beneath my breast.

The blade bites into my skin, and I gasp at the sudden, sharp pain. Carlo carves his mark with slow, deliberate strokes, each cut sending a wave of agony through me. I can’t hold back the tears that sting my eyes, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

He positions himself inside me, pounding and pounding hardly, but there's no pleasure in this, only pain, pain that will forever remain a part of me.

When he finally finishes, he steps back to admire his work, his face a mask of satisfaction.“Perfect,” he says with a nod. “You’re a work of art, Blair.”

“You know, Blair,” he says, almost conversationally, “I’ve been having quite a bit of fun with your stupid Leonardo."

The mention of Leonardo’s name sends a jolt through me. Despite my overwhelming despair, my heart leaps at the thought of him being involved. I try to mask my anxiety, but Carlo’s next words shatter any pretense of calm.

“I’ve been sending him all kinds of updates about you,” he says with a twisted satisfaction. “Pictures of your bruised body, videos of our… interactions. He’s seen every mark, every tear, every degrading moment.”

The realization hits me like a blow to the chest. Carlo has been using my suffering as a tool to torment Leonardo. I can only imagine the agony Leonardo must be feeling, seeing me in such a state.

"Not just that,” Carlo continues, leaning closer with a cruel gleam in his eyes. “I’ve sent him photos of you in all the different lingerie you’ve had to wear. I made sure he knew exactly what’s happening to you.”

I’m filled with a mix of rage and hopelessness. The thought of Leonardo seeing me so humiliated and battered is unbearable.

Carlo’s expression shifts, becoming more serious. He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “I also gave him a hint about where we are. I don’t know if he’s figured it out yet, but if he’s smart enough, he might come close.”

The weight of his words sinks in. Carlo and his associates, Brian and Erik, know exactly who Leonardo is—he’s part of their past, someone they despise for turning against them. They’ve twisted this situation into a cruel game, giving Leonardo an impossible choice.

“If he finds us,” Carlo says, his voice dark and cold, “he’ll have to make a choice. Either he sacrifices himself to save you, or he kills you to save himself. Either way, it’s a win for us. He’ll suffer, and so will you.”

The cruelty of their plan is almost too much to bear. The thought that Leonardo might be forced to choose between his own life and mine is devastating. I can’t imagine what he’s going through, knowing that his every move might lead to my death.