God Of Desire

queen of ruin

Anastasia :

“Ana… Ana… Ana… wake the hell up.”

A voice... distant and hazy, echoing inside my mind... shoved me back to consciousness. The air was thick, suffocating, and that metallic stench was the first thing to hit me, heavy and nauseating.

I blinked, fighting through the fog gathering in my head, and felt the sharp pound of my pulse, each beat rattling my body. Sweat clung to my skin, slipping down my back, as a biting ache seeped through my wrists and ankles.

As my vision slowly cleared, I made out the grimy floor beneath me, littered with stains and God knows what else.

This room... dark, damp, decaying... it felt like a forgotten corner of hell. I tried to move, but thick ropes dug into my skin, tying me to a splintered chair, keeping me locked in place.

Wait... wait... no, no, no... this can’t be happening. Not again. Not again.

A surge of panic ripped through me, clawing at my throat as a memory, one I’d buried so deep, forced its way to the surface in jagged, unforgiving fragments.

A memory I could never erase. A memory that tore my world in half, that cost me my other half. I’ve been here before... or somewhere just like it... a place that reeked of blood, fear, and helplessness.

My blood thickened in my veins, a sick rush of heat pulsing through me, making my skin crawl. The mere thought of reliving that hellish memory made me want to end it all just to escape.

But I couldn’t... I wouldn’t. I felt my head grow heavier, eyes drooping, and every inch of my body ached as if I’d been crushed and pieced back together. What the hell happened to me?

Shaking my head to clear the haze, I forced myself to stay alert, to push through the pain and fear. That’s when I heard it... a faint sound, growing louder. Footsteps. Someone was coming closer.

I pulled my back straight, took a steadying breath, and forced my eyes open, focusing. Lessons drilled into me by my father and grandfather snapped into place, grounding me in this moment:

Never let your enemy see your weakness. Don’t give them a reason to push harder.

I fought to keep my breathing steady. Stay alert. Stay focused. Never let your guard down. I could almost hear my grandfather’s voice:

Quiet cuts through the truth. Silence is a weapon. Patience is power.

Now is not the time to fall apart. No matter how badly my body ached or how much fear clawed at my throat, I had to get my shit together. Not now. Not yet. There would be a time to strike... when I could tear down whoever did this. But for now, I’d play their game.

The cracked door creaked open, and I quickly lowered my head, forcing my body to remain completely still, feigning unconsciousness. I could sense the presence of at least three people, their heavy footsteps echoing in the room.

The pungent, metallic scent of blood mixed with the sharpness of a strong cologne. My stomach churned, but I stayed quiet, refusing to react.

"She's still passed out, sir," one of them said, the words thick with a heavy Russian accent.

I felt a presence draw closer, each step deliberate and menacing. The air felt heavier as a shadow loomed over me. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t dare move. I was still playing dead, after all.

A hand grabbed my hair, yanking it backward, forcing my head to tilt. Pain shot through my scalp, and I bit back a hiss, the rawness of it almost enough to make me snap. But I held it together. I needed to stay calm. Stay in control. Not yet.