Twisted Desire

Chapter 13: The Broken Doll

The once-stunning manor, with its grand chandeliers and polished marble floors, now felt like a cage, its walls pressing in as Adira lay motionless on her bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Every inch of her felt heavy, as though the weight of her secrets, her mistakes, her shattered dreams were pressing her deeper into the mattress, rendering her almost lifeless. In Dante’s world, she had always been his “perfect doll”—a beautiful, obedient figure he could control, manipulate, and shape to his desire. And now, she felt more like a hollow shell than ever.

The silence of the room was deafening, amplifying the chaos in her mind. Images of Eli flashed through her thoughts—his warm gaze, his gentle touch, his whispered promises of freedom. But now, they felt like distant memories, illusions she’d been foolish enough to believe could be real. How could she have thought that someone like her, bound in chains, could ever escape Dante’s grasp?

The door creaked open, and Dante strode in with a cold elegance. He closed the door softly behind him, the faint click echoing ominously in the stillness. As he approached the bed, Adira forced herself to sit up, her body stiff and sore from the bruises she wore like badges of her failed rebellion. She avoided his gaze, focusing instead on a small crack in the wall, anything to keep her from meeting his piercing stare.

Dante’s lips curled into a smirk as he reached her, lifting her chin so she had no choice but to look at him. “My beautiful Adira,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk yet laced with venom. “You really thought you could escape me, didn’t you?”

A flicker of defiance sparked in her chest, but she quickly buried it, knowing any show of resistance would only end in more pain. She forced herself to nod, her movements slow and controlled, as if even the smallest misstep could trigger his wrath.

“Did you really believe you could trust that… that pathetic excuse of a man?” Dante sneered, his grip tightening on her chin. His voice was dripping with disdain, but Adira could sense the underlying rage, the jealousy that simmered beneath his polished exterior. It was the one weakness she’d found in him—the one chink in his otherwise impenetrable armor. But she couldn’t use it now, not when she was so utterly broken.

“Eli was… a mistake,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She hated herself for saying it, for betraying the one person who had ever shown her kindness, but she had no choice. She had to survive, to keep herself intact long enough to find another way out of this nightmare.

Dante’s grip relaxed slightly, and he chuckled, a dark, hollow sound that sent chills down her spine. “Good girl,” he purred, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. “I knew you’d come to see things my way eventually. It was only a matter of time.”

He leaned in close, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered, “But I’m not going to let you off so easily, Adira. You’ll have to prove your loyalty to me, prove that you’re still the perfect doll I crafted from the ashes of the weak, pathetic girl you once were.”

Adira swallowed hard, fighting the urge to pull away, to scream, to run. But she knew better. Any resistance would only fuel his sadistic pleasure, would only prolong her suffering. So she forced herself to stay still, to remain calm, even as her heart shattered inside her chest.

Dante straightened, his gaze sweeping over her like a predator assessing its prey. “Tomorrow night,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of excitement, “I’ll be hosting a very special event. All my associates will be there, and you, my dear, will be the centerpiece of the evening.”

Her stomach twisted at his words, a sense of dread washing over her. She didn’t know what he had planned, but she knew it would be something twisted, something designed to remind her—and everyone else—that she belonged to him, body and soul.