𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝑅𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛

19

3𝓻𝓭 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓹𝓸𝓿:

Kailani sat on the bed, as usual.
The day felt like all the other days for the past 3 weeks, the ornate silver tray before her with the same delicate teacup she had grown to groan at the sight of it.

The bitter aroma of the tea wafted up, making her stomach churn. It was the same every day-tea first, then off to wherever her mind took her.

Today, she wouldn't drink it.

If he was mad at her, she'd be mad at him too.

She felt his presence before she saw him, the subtle shift in the room's atmosphere as he entered. Salvatore moved like a shadow, silent and imposing. He stood by the door, waiting as he always did, expecting her to follow the routine he had meticulously crafted.

But Kailani just stared at the cup, her hands resting calmly in her lap. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to stay still, to not give in. The seconds ticked by, the silence growing heavier with each passing moment. She could feel his eyes on her, dark and probing, waiting for her to pick up the cup, to drink like a good girl.

When she didn't move, she heard it-the faint click of his tongue ring against his teeth. He was upset. But he wouldn't show it, not yet. He was too controlled for that.

Instead, he stepped closer, the leather of his gloves creaking as he reached for the cup, his intent clear. He would bring it to her lips if he had to, force her to drink. But Kailani was faster. She stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved away from him, leaving the tea untouched.

Salvatore paused, his hand hovering in mid-air for a fraction of a second before he slowly withdrew. His dark eyes narrowed, but he made no other move. He was waiting for her to explain, to offer some excuse for her defiance, but none came.

Salvatore wasn’t going to let that slide. He moved swiftly, his gloved hand latching onto her arm with an unyielding grip. Kailani’s eyes widened, her heart stuttering in her chest. Without a word, he snatched the teacup from the tray and brought it up to her plump lips. She clenched her jaw, refusing to let him win so easily.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something wild beneath the surface. His fingers dug into her skin, forcing her head back as he pressed the edge of the cup to her lips. She thrashed weakly, but her body had grown so tired, so weak from the drugs in the tea.

With a growl low in his throat, Salvatore pinched her button nose closed, cutting off her air. Panic shot through her, her chest tightening as she gasped for breath, and in that moment of desperation, her mouth opened. He wasted no time. The bitter tea was forced into her mouth, sliding down her throat in an awful rush. She gagged, her body convulsing in protest, but Salvatore kept the cup tilted, his grip ironclad until every drop was gone.

When he finally released her, Kailani stumbled back, choking on the remnants of the tea that burned in her throat. Her legs shook, her knees nearly giving out as she caught herself on the edge of the bed, coughing and gasping for air. Salvatore stood over her, his gloved hand lowering the empty cup back onto the tray with an eerie calm.

Later, as she sat before the vanity, her hair still damp from the bath, she caught a glimpse of him in the mirror. He stood behind her, silent as ever, his massive frame a looming presence in the small space. This was their routine-he would brush her hair, a task she had once found oddly comforting despite everything. But not today.

Before he could move, she picked up the brush herself, running it through her hair with slow, deliberate strokes. She watched his reflection in the mirror, saw the way his eyes darkened, the slight twitch in his jaw.

The day dragged on, each moment a silent battle between them. When he handed her the book he had chosen for her, one she knew he liked to see her read, she left it untouched on the table. Instead, she picked up one of her own sketches, the lines faint and unfinished, and began to work on it, her pencil moving in soft, fluid strokes. She didn't ask for his approval, didn't look to see his reaction. But she knew he was watching.

When the afternoon came, and he offered her the small plate of food-a selection of delicate bites he had likely chosen himself-she pushed it aside with a quiet, "I'm not hungry." Salvatore didn't like to be refused, especially when it came to caring for her.

Salvatore froze for just a moment, his eyes narrowing in cold calculation. Then, he reached for the plate. Kailani barely had time to react before he was in front of her again, his gloved hand gripping her jaw, forcing it open. She tried to jerk away, but his strength was overwhelming. She slapped and scratched his huge hand, but of course he had no reaction to it.

He pressed a small morsel of food into her mouth, force feeding her by hand, his hand clamping over her lips to keep her from spitting it out. Her teeth scraped against his glove as she tried to resist, but it was no use. He held her still, his eyes locked on hers, daring her to defy him further. She swallowed, her body trembling with humiliation and fury as the food slid down her throat.

When he finally let go, she gasped, turning her head away from him as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Her rebellion, her attempts to regain some semblance of control, had failed. He had won. Again.

As the day waned, Kailani's final act of rebellion came. She was supposed to sit with him in the evening, to let him watch her while she fell asleep. It was a ritual she had endured many times. But tonight, she didn't wait for him, she fell asleep before he even checked the camera.