LETTERS OF A VIRGIN

25. Sin City and Something igniting

VARYNUS GALYNER'S POV

The mansion felt colder with each step, the kind of cold that gnaws at your bones, seeping into your soul. As I descended into the dungeon, the hollow echo of my boots against stone grew heavier, like the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. I had given the order, and now I had to face the consequences.

When I pushed open the heavy door, the metallic creak felt like a dirge. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of iron and sweat. There she was—Paris—crumpled on the floor, her body broken, breaths shallow and labored. The empty chair, gleaming under the dim light, stood like an unspoken accusation. Jared’s methods had been thorough.

I swallowed the knot rising in my throat, pushing it deep down where it belonged. “What have you done?” My voice cut through the silence, sharp, controlled.

Jared turned to face me, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Exactly what you ordered, Varynus. I broke her. Completely.” His tone was casual, like he was discussing the weather.

For a fleeting moment, something stirred deep inside me—guilt, perhaps, or regret—but I strangled it before it could surface. “Well done, Jared. You’ve done what needed to be done.” I forced my voice to remain indifferent, but the sight of her broken form clawed at the edges of my mind.

The door burst open, and Jonathan rushed in, his face pale with horror. “This is madness! What the hell happened?” He dropped to his knees beside Paris, panic lacing his voice. “We need to get her to a doctor—now!”

I stepped forward, each movement deliberate, calm. “Jonathan, control yourself. She’s fine. We can’t afford panic right now.” My gaze fell on Paris again, a fleeting softness threatening to betray me. “She’ll recover.”

Jonathan’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. “Recover? Varynus, look at her! You’ve crossed a line! She’s not a pawn in your damned game!”

I felt the burn of his words, but I refused to let them touch me. “Do you think this is easy for me?” My voice was measured, but each syllable was a battle. “We don’t have the luxury of hesitation, Jonathan. Not now. Not with everything at stake.”

“She’s a person, not a means to an end!” His desperation was palpable, echoing in the cold walls around us. “Look at her! You’re letting this destroy you!”

“Enough!” The word snapped out of me, sharp as a whip. “We need to stabilize her first. There’s no time for your moral high ground.” I turned to Jared, my voice hard. “Get the doctors in here. Now.”

Jared nodded, his smirk never fading, and left without a word. Jonathan’s eyes burned with something close to hatred.

“You were never like this,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What happened to you?”

I felt something in my chest tighten, a fracture that threatened to split wide open. I had to stay in control. Always in control. “Nicholas is dead, Jonathan,” I said, forcing the words out. “We don’t have the luxury of weakness anymore. Do you think he would have hesitated? Do you think he wouldn’t have done what was necessary?”

Jonathan shook his head, his hands trembling as they hovered over Paris’s broken body. “Nicholas is gone, but that doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself. We can’t go down this path.”

I knelt beside Paris, careful not to touch her. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, and for a brief moment, the mask I wore cracked. Her fragility was startling, and I felt the edges of my resolve fray. “You’ll pull through, Paris. You have to.” My words were barely a whisper, more for me than for her.