A sharp hiss escaped Aiden's lips as he collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching his arm.

Blood seeped through his fingers, warm and relentless, the metallic scent filling the already suffocating air.

His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, but it wasn't the pain that rattled him the most.

It was the betrayal— the sheer, incomprehensible reality that Ace had actually pulled the trigger.

"Aiden!"

She was at his side in an instant, falling to her knees, her hands trembling as they hovered over his wound.

"Aiden, oh my God" Her voice wavered, thick with panic, but her eyes—her eyes—were filled with something more.

A desperate need to protect him.

To shield him from the monster standing a few feet away, utterly unbothered by the carnage he had just created.

A heavy silence hung over the room, thick and suffocating, before it shattered—

"ACE! Are you out of your fucking mind?" Felix's voice, normally laced with wit and arrogance, now burned with unfiltered rage.

His fists clenched around the gun, the veins in his neck bulging, his entire body vibrating with the effort to restrain himself from lunging.

And Ace— Ace stood there, calm. Detached.

The gun still rested in his hand, the barrel faintly heated up, but his expression held not an ounce of remorse.

"Ohh, please," he murmured, voice bordering on boredom. "It just passed through his skin."

With a lazy shrug, he scratched the side of his head with the slide of his gun, as though the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Felix's nostrils flared.

Aiden's breathing was ragged, his heart slamming against his ribs.

The blood—his own blood—was trickling down his hand.

He still couldn't process it. Couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Ace had actually done it.

"Next time," Ace continued, slipping the gun back into his holster with a chilling ease, "I will not be this gentle."

The words sent ice down their spines.

Not a threat. Not a warning.

A promise.

Ace turned, his movements measured, deliberate, unaffected.

And then—

Alex snapped.

A guttural growl of frustration ripped from his throat as he lunged.

His fist cut through the air with force meant to shatter bone.

But Ace was faster. Too fast.

With terrifying ease, he sidestepped the attack, and in the same smooth breath, caught Alex's arm mid-swing.

The next moment, Alex's world tilted.

Ace twisted his arm behind his back, locking it into a brutal hold that sent white-hot pain tearing through his shoulder.

"Fuck!" Alex shouted, his body jerking as he tried to fight it, tried to break free.

But Ace's grip was like a steel trap. Unrelenting. Unbreakable.

His expression remained eerily calm, as if he were dealing with a child throwing a tantrum rather than a grown man writhing in agony.

"Stop it, guys," Ace said, his tone so controlled, so eerily casual that it only made the moment more nightmarish.

This wasn't a suggestion.

It was a command.

The room crackled with tension—with disbelief, with fury, with something dangerously close to fear.

But then—

""BASTA! (STOP IT)" The word cut through the air like a blade, sharp, slicing, undeniable.

Leo, who had been silent until now, finally stepped forward.

His eyes—cold, filled with disgust.

His voice—low, steady, but vibrating with rage.

"Ti stai approfittando del corpo di una ragazza senza nemmeno il suo permesso e lei non sa che la stai aggredendo!"

"State approfittando del corpo di una ragazza senza nemmeno il suo permesso, e lei non sa nemmeno che la state aggredendo!

(You are taking advantage of a girl's body without even her permission, and she doesn't even know that you are assaulting her!")

For the first time—Ace's expression flickered.

Something crossed his face, something dark—irritation, or perhaps something deeper, something more dangerous.

But just as quickly, it was gone. Erased.

Buried beneath a mask of cold indifference.

Without a word, he let go.

Alex stumbled forward, clutching his arm, his breathing ragged from the pain.

Hudson, who had been standing back, holding his gun, his face carved from stone, finally spoke.

His voice was careful, calculated— every syllable chosen with precision.

"Ace, we are your friends, but... you're not in a good mindset, and you're wrong. Leave her. You will destroy her."

There was no anger in his voice. No condescension. Just truth.

But there was also something else beneath it—a quiet resolve.

He meant it.

Hudson wasn't just asking Ace to walk away. He was warning him.

Because if Ace lost control, Hudson already knew where he'd have to put the bullet.

Just like last time.

Ace's response was infuriatingly simple— a roll of his eyes, a lazy, dismissive gesture that made it clear how little he cared for their concerns.

His hands slipped into his pockets as he turned, already walking away.

Unbothered. Uninterested.

But then—

Felix moved.

He stepped directly into Ace's path, blocking him.

His face was set, a mask of unshakable determination. Not fear. Not hesitation.

"I am taking her."

Ace stopped.

A slow scoff left his lips, his head tilting slightly, as if Felix had just told him a joke.

"What?" The mockery in Ace's voice was unmistakable, thick with amusement and disbelief.

Felix didn't flinch. His fists clenched at his sides, his entire body vibrating with fury.

"HO DETTO CHE LA PORTERÒ VIA DA TE, IN UN POSTO LONTANO DALLA TUA DISGUSTOSA PRESENZA!"

("I SAID I AM TAKING HER FROM YOU, SOMEWHERE FAR FROM YOUR DISGUSTING PRESENCE!")

The words erupted from him, a declaration, a challenge, a final stand.

Ace's smirk widened.

Slowly, he closed the distance.

Until their breaths nearly mingled, until Felix could see the full depth of the madness lurking in his eyes.

The cruelty. The hunger. The sickness.

"Try it," Ace murmured, his voice so low it barely touched the air.

"Then you all will see what you have been avoiding... all these years."

The threat settled over the room like a suffocating weight.

Felix felt a chill run through his spine.

Because for a brief moment— he saw it.

The abyss.

The void inside Ace that no amount of humanity could ever fill.

He wasn't just dangerous. He was wrong.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Because no one was brave enough to try it.

They had seen him.

The true him.

The creature that should have been left in the middle of a forest, away from human civilization.

The tension in the room was a living thing, a wire pulled too tight— one breath away from snapping.

And then—

"Ace!"

The sharp call shattered the moment.

Everyone's heads snapped to the doorway.

Iris stood there, her face bright, lit with excitement as she held up a tiny rock in her palm, practically bouncing on her heels.

Completely oblivious.

But the second her eyes took in the scene before her— the guns, the fury, the raw danger lingering in the air.

Her joy flickered. Faded.

Unease crept into her posture, her weight shifting from foot to foot.

The silence swallowed her.

And she finally realized— She had walked straight into something monstrous.

She looked at Ace, her eyes searching for something—anything.

A sign. An explanation. A sliver of reassurance.

But he offered none.

Instead, he smiled.

"Mini, Mini, come here, my beautiful doll." His voice was like silk now, soft, lulling, almost tender.

It was so jarring, so unnatural compared to the raw hostility in the room moments before.

Iris hesitated.

Her fingers curled against the small rock in her palm as her gaze flicked between the men—the way they were all looking at her.

Pity.

Sympathy.

And something else she couldn't name.

It made her feel small.

Like a child who had walked into a room full of adults discussing something she wasn't meant to hear.

Like she was the only one who didn't understand something important.

Slowly, she stepped forward.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

When she finally reached Ace, she stood in front of him, hands clasped in front of her as if they could shield her from whatever came next.

Ace moved behind her, and before she could react, his hand was at the back of her neck.

Guiding her.

Positioning her.

Turning her to face them.

The touch was possessive— not painful, but not gentle either.

It sent a shiver down her spine.

She could feel his breath against her skin, his presence coiling around her like a shadow she couldn't escape.

"Mini bear, do you wanna leave me?" His voice was low. Sweet. Deceptive.

But it dripped with something venomous.

He wasn't really asking.

His gaze burned through the others, daring them to speak, to challenge him.

To try and take her.

Felix opened his mouth, desperation clear in his face. "Iris, leave—"

But Ace silenced him with a simple gesture.

A hand raised.

A lazy flick of his fingers.

Yet it carried the weight of a blade against the throat.

"Tsk. Tsk."

A warning.

His lips curled into a smirk, his tone patronizing, like he was scolding a child.

"Let my little Mini speak."

Iris stiffened.

Ace's hand still rested at the nape of her neck, his thumb idly tracing the delicate curve of her throat.

The touch sent a pulse of fear through her.

It was intimate. Controlling.

"Tell me, Mini," Ace murmured, voice dipping lower, sending a shiver through her.

His fingers pressed, just slightly, just enough.

"If you get a chance..."

The pressure increased, forcing her chin higher, stretching her neck just a little more.

"Will you leave me?"

A soft, frightened whimper escaped her lips.

The tension in the room was suffocating.

Everyone was watching.

Waiting. Expecting.

Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure they could all hear it.

Slowly, she shook her head.

Ace hummed in approval.

But it wasn't enough.

"Parole." His voice was gentle, coaxing. Almost loving. "Words, bambi."

Iris's throat tightened.

She could feel the weight of every gaze on her, their stares crushing her, strangling her.

"N-No." The word was barely above a whisper.

But it was enough.

Ace smiled.

Triumphant. Satisfied.

Because it wasn't just fear that made her stay.

It was him.

Susan, who had been watching, waiting, her hands trembling at her sides, finally snapped.

She stepped forward, voice sharp. "Ace, that's not how it works."

He didn't even spare her a glance.

His attention remained fixed on Iris.

"You heard her." His fingers finally left her skin, and she exhaled, only now realizing she'd been holding her breath.

Susan gritted her teeth.

Her voice rose, frustration boiling over.

"Iris, you are 17, for fuck's sake! Don't you have any common sense?"

The words cracked through the air like a whip, raw with frustration, disgust.

Her frown deepened, her face darkening with sadness.

Her chest tightened. She had heard this before.

A thousand times.

"Dumb."

"Stupid."

"Naive little girl."

It dug into her bones, a festering wound reopened with the sharp edge of Susan's voice.

For a moment, the walls felt like they were closing in, the faces around her blurring into shadowed shapes— reminders of every person who had ever made her feel small.

Useless.

Helpless.

"That's enough," Ace's voice was lethal. A razor's edge, cutting through the room like a blade.

Susan barely had time to react before his gaze locked onto her.

Dark. Deadly.

A hush fell over the room.

He saw the shift in Iris's expression.

The way her eyes dimmed.

The way her shoulders curled inward, as if trying to disappear.

His arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer, shielding her from the eyes that burned into her like scorching irons.

She clung to him, small fingers gripping his suit like a lifeline.

Because in this moment, Ace wasn't the one hurting her.

Leo took a step forward.

"No, that's not enough." His voice was steel, unwavering.

Ace's grip on Iris tightened. "Look, I don't have time for all this shit."

There was something different in his tone now.

Something unhinged.

His patience was gone.

This wasn't annoyance anymore. He was slipping into something darker.

The air in the room turned thick. Suffocating.

A low tension hummed beneath the surface, like a storm ready to tear the world apart.

But Liam— Liam was fearless.

He met Ace's stare, unflinching, unwavering, a man walking toward the mouth of the lion.

"Ace, it will not take us days to tell her what is happening with her." The words cut.

Ace stilled.

Iris blinked, confused, sensing the shift.

Then Liam delivered the final blow.

"Pensi che resterà ancora con te dopo averlo saputo? (Do you think she will still stay with you after knowing it?)"

Something inside Ace curled, twisted, burned.

A single second stretched into eternity.

His chest ached, mind raced with images, possibilities, the horrifying thought of losing her.

His Mini. His little doll. His one constant in this entire godforsaken world.

And these fools?

They thought they could take her.

His nostrils flared, pulse pounded in his ears.

They didn't understand.

They couldn't.

He looked down at Iris, who was still holding tightly to his suit, her wide doe eyes staring up at him in confusion and fear.

"Fine then. Now I will show you the consequences if you do something." The words were cold.

Final. A death sentence.

His hand snapped around Iris's wrist. Tight. Unyielding.

A cage disguised as a touch.

Without another word, he began to drag her out of the room.

Confusion and alarm rippled through the others as they watched Ace's sudden, aggressive actions.

The room fell silent, save for Iris's small whimpers, unable to keep up with his hurried pace.

Felix lunged forward.

Hudson's voice cracked through the tension like a gunshot.

"Ace! What the fuck are you doing?!"

Ace didn't stop.

Didn't hesitate, even acknowledge them.

His grip didn't loosen.

Not even when Iris stumbled, when her fingers weakly tried to pull away.

She wasn't resisting.

She was just scared and confused.

Ace pulled her down the hall, away from their useless protests, away from their foolish defiance.

His pace was ruthless, forcing her to keep up, forcing her little feet to move faster, faster—

Down the stairs. Into the dark.

Stone walls swallowed them whole. Cold. Suffocating.

The distant echoes of past screams lingered in the air.

A world untouched by kindness.

A world where Ace reigned.

And then, without a flicker of hesitation—he threw her to the ground.

The impact stole the air from her lungs.

Pain shot through her side as her hip collided with the unyielding floor, her palms scraping against the rough concrete as she struggled to steady herself.

A gasp of pain broke past her lips.

And still, Ace towered over her, cold and unmoved.

"Strip."

The word was a death sentence.

It was not a request. Not even an order.

It was a pronouncement, spoken with the absolute certainty that she would obey, that resistance was not even an option.

Iris's breath hitched.

Her body refused to move, paralyzed under the weight of sheer, unfiltered terror.

Her skin was damp with cold sweat, her mind spiraling, grasping for a way out— a way to wake up from this nightmare.

Ace's eyes darkened.

And then he moved.

Fast. Too fast.

Before she could even scream, he had her.

His fingers latched around her ankle, an unyielding iron grip that sent her sprawling as he dragged her back to the center of the room.

Iris screamed, thrashing in a desperate attempt to free herself, but his grip was unyielding.

"No! No, no, no—!" she wailed, thrashing wildly, her nails scraping against the floor in a futile attempt to find purchase.

He didn't stop.

Her foot kicked out wildly, catching the edge of his leg, but if he felt the impact, he gave no sign.

He simply yanked harder, the force making her stomach lurch, her body sliding helplessly across the cold ground like a rag doll.

Her heart pounded so violently it hurt.

A sob ripped from her throat, raw and desperate. "Ace, please!"

Nothing. No reaction. No flicker of mercy.

He stopped once they reached the very center of the room, where the chains dangled like skeletal hands from the ceiling, swaying gently as if eagerly awaiting her.

"Up," he commanded, voice devoid of warmth.

Her entire body shook.

She couldn't stand. She couldn't breathe.

She was breaking apart, coming undone beneath the weight of his voice, his presence, the cold efficiency with which he moved—like this was routine for him.

When she didn't move fast enough, his patience snapped.

Ace reached down, fingers digging into her upper arms as he hauled her to her feet with humiliating ease.

She stumbled, barely able to hold herself upright, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her.

Her sobs filled the room, fractured and weak.

The cold metal bit into her wrists as Ace shackled them in place, the iron clinking ominously as he fastened the chains.

The weight of them made her feel small, powerless, utterly at his mercy.

The chains rattled as she instinctively pulled against them, but there was no give. No escape.

Her arms stretched painfully above her head, her shoulders already straining from the unnatural position.

The tips of her toes grazed the cold stone beneath her, forcing her to teeter precariously, every muscle trembling with the effort to keep herself upright.

Her breathing was ragged, shallow.

The room smelled of iron and dampness, a chilling scent that mingled with the faintest trace of Ace's cologne—the same scent that once comforted her.

Now, it felt suffocating.

And then—

The soft, deadly whisper of metal against leather.

Her entire body seized as Ace crouched, his fingers deftly retrieving the small pocket knife strapped to his ankle.

A flick of his wrist.

Snikt.

The blade snapped open, gleaming under the dim light.

Iris's chest heaved, a choked whimper escaping her lips.

"Ace... Please," she gasped, voice barely above a whisper. The words trembled, fractured with terror. "I—I am s-sorry..."

She didn't even know what she was apologizing for anymore. She just wanted this to stop.

Ace hummed, tilting his head slightly. His face was unreadable, detached. Almost bored.

"It's okay, bambi." His voice was eerily soft, but there was something sharp beneath it. Something dangerous.

The tip of the blade ghosted over her collarbone, featherlight but threatening.

Iris shuddered violently, her body flinching at the cold kiss of steel.

Ace watched her reaction with quiet amusement.

And then—

A sudden, precise movement.

The blade slid through the fabric of her dress as if it were nothing more than silk spun from air.

The sound—soft, almost gentle—was far more horrifying than if he had ripped it off her in a fit of rage.

It was controlled. Methodical.

Iris's breath hitched as the material loosened, slipping from her shoulders in silent surrender.

The cool air bit at her exposed skin as the ruined fabric fluttered to the ground, leaving her standing there in nothing but a slip-on bra and boy shorts.

Iris squeezed her eyes shut, humiliation burning through her like fire.

She could feel Ace's gaze on her, roaming, studying.

Not in lust—no, this wasn't about that.

This was something darker, more insidious.

This was ownership. A calculated stripping down of her defenses, piece by piece.

He enjoys this as much as he hates it.

"Stop... please..." she whispered, her voice so small, so fragile that it barely reached her own ears.

Ace didn't answer.

Instead, the cold edge of his knife tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Mini," he murmured, his voice an eerie contrast to the sharp steel beneath her jaw. "I didn't put these garments on you. Did I?"

The question hung between them, thick with unspoken intent.

Iris's throat bobbed as she swallowed, her mind struggling to keep up with his shifting moods.

"N-No," she stammered, her entire body trembling. "I—I don't know how to w-wear it properly... and it's too revealing."

For a moment, Ace was still.

Then, a slow, twisted smile curled at his lips.

"My, my... how did I forget my little Mini is so well-mannered?" he mused, voice dripping with mock affection. "But next time, you'll wear whatever I give you. No matter what."

The words were final. Unyielding. A decree.

Iris nodded rapidly, terrified of what would happen if she didn't. "Y-Yes."

Ace's fingers traced along her cheek, his touch deceptively gentle. His gaze burned into her, dark and unreadable.

"But still," he murmured, voice dropping into something softer, almost coaxing, "you have to take your punishment, baby."

"P-Punishment?" Iris whispered, her voice laced with fear as she tears streamed down her face, but she didn't dare move, didn't dare protest.

Ace lied because the truth would ruin him.

What terrified him—what made his stomach churn with something dangerously close to panic— was them. His friends.

They would tell her.

They would tell her everything.

And if they did, she would hate him in a way that no amount of punishment could undo.

He told himself that it was necessary.

But the moment Hudson's voice thundered through the door—raw with rage, dripping with disgust, "OPEN THE DOOR, YOU SICK FUCKING HEAD!"

Ace knew.

They knew.

And when they got to her— when they pried her from his grasp, dragged her away and whispered the truth into her ear—

She would see it for what it was.

Not justice. Not protection. Not love.

Just him.

Just Ace— petty and wounded and cruel.

So he lied.

Because if he kept the truth buried long enough—if he let her believe this was still about her—

Then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't look at him with hate.

Maybe, when this was over, she would still belong to him.

He stepped back and pulled out a handkerchief.

With careful precision, he wiped away her tears, his touch almost reverent.

He dabbed at her nose, his fingers impossibly gentle.

It was a kindness that wasn't kindness at all.

It was control.

An assertion that no matter how much he broke her down, he could build her up again.

Iris let out a shaky breath, her mind spiraling.

Because there was nothing more terrifying than a monster who knew how to be gentle.

"Are you fulfilling my w-wish or m-making me suffer?" she whispered, sobbing as she looked at him in raw fear.

He didn't respond right away. Instead, he bit his lip and pulled out his belt.

The sight of it sent a fresh wave of terror through Iris, her eyes going wide with panic.

"P-Please no..," she choked out a sob, her voice desperate as she looked at the belt in his hands, the fear overwhelming her.

He approached her slowly, his movements calculated, deliberate. He reached out and pulled her trembling body into his arms, hugging her tightly.

Iris's body was shaking uncontrollably, her skin cold and clammy as she sobbed against his chest.

"Just a little bit, bambi," he murmured against her hair, leaning down his lips brushing over her face, her neck, as if trying to soothe her.

"ACE! YOU MOTHERFUCKER! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!"

Hudson's voice was a sledgehammer against his skull, each syllable dripping with unfiltered rage.

The door shook under the assault of his fists, the wood groaning under his relentless pounding.

Ace exhaled slowly.

He should be worried. Should be calculating how much time he had before they broke through.

But all he could focus on was her.

Iris— shackled, trembling, her wide, tear-drenched eyes locked onto the belt in his hands.

Her lips parted as if to plead, but no words came.

Just the sound of her breath, quick and uneven, her chest rising and falling in panic.

Ace felt something tighten in his chest— something dangerous, something he couldn't afford to feel.

He clenched his jaw, shoving it down, forcing himself into the role he knew too well.

The cruel, methodical force she feared. The monster she would learn to obey.

Because if he didn't play his part—if he hesitated—she would learn the truth.

He stepped back, putting distance between them, his heart heavy as if weighed down by stones.

Each step away from her felt like dragging himself through wet cement, thick and suffocating.

His fingers flexed around the belt, the leather warm from his grip, the weight of it a sickening reminder of what he was about to do.

For a moment, he hesitated, his breath caught in his throat.

He stared at the ground, at the jagged cracks in the floor beneath his boots, at anything but her.

He didn't want to look at her.

Didn't want to see her face contorted in fear, in pain.

Didn't want to see the betrayal in her eyes.

But he had to do this.

He had to make her afraid.

Because fear, once seeded, bloomed into something insidious, something that took root in the mind and stayed.

And fear—true, undiluted terror—was more painful than anything his hands could ever do to her.

Ace exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip.

Then, with a controlled, merciless snap of his wrist—

Crack.

The first strike landed across the back of her calves, sharp, precise.

The impact sent a violent tremor through her body.

A strangled scream tore from her throat, raw and keening, filled with such anguish that his stomach twisted into knots.

But this was what he wanted.

What he needed.

She had to scream.

Loud enough for them to hear.

To make them understand what would happen if they told her the truth.

His jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached, but his expression remained impassive.

He struck again.

Not as hard as he could have, but enough.

Enough for her delicate body to feel it. Enough to terrify her.

Because fear had a way of magnifying pain. Making even the ghost of a touch feel unbearable.

And she was terrified.

He could feel it radiating off her, raw and electric, seeping into the very air between them.

A thick, oppressive silence settled over the room, broken only by the jagged rhythm of Iris's sobs.

She convulsed against the chains, her head snapping back as she wailed, the sound shattering, desperate.

Her hands pulled at the restraints, her nails scratching against metal, her body twisting, fighting even though she knew there was nowhere to go.

The sight clawed at his chest.

Ace gritted his teeth and raised the belt again.

Crack. Crack. 

The sound cut through the air, relentless, punctuated only by her screams, the sharp gasps between them.

His hands felt steady, his movements measured, but inside, something was unraveling.

He still refused to look at her.

Because if he looked at her, he'd see the way she flinched before each blow, the way her body curled in on itself, the way her sobs were turning breathless, wheezing—

He didn't want to see that.

Didn't want to see her.

Because this wasn't supposed to be her.

The sound of leather against flesh reverberated through the room, but it wasn't just her pain ringing in his ears anymore— it was his own pulse, erratic, heavy.

His breathing came faster, uneven, each inhale feeling like knives scraping against his ribs.

Four.

That was enough.

More than enough.

His fingers trembled as he let the belt slip from his grip. It hit the ground with a dull, lifeless thud.

Iris was sobbing uncontrollably, her body wracked with shudders, her legs trembling so violently he thought she might collapse.

Her voice was hoarse, frayed, broken from the sheer force of her cries.

She was a wreck of pain and terror.

And he had done this to her.

Ace's breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as if he had been the one enduring the punishment instead of delivering it.

He forced himself to straighten, to exhale, to breathe past the nausea crawling up his throat.

The guilt gnawed at him, its teeth sharp, unrelenting.

But he couldn't let it show.

Couldn't let anyone—her—see the regret, the sickness curdling in his gut.

The strength drained from her body, leaving her dizzy and disoriented, her mind trapped in a haze of pain and terror.

The walls of the room seemed to close in around her, the dim lighting casting cruel shadows that flickered with every shaky breath she took.

She barely registered the sound of metal clicking as Ace moved, his earlier coldness vanishing into something else—something frantic.

His hands fumbled with the locks, his urgency betraying the very control he had fought to maintain.

His breathing was uneven, shallow, the telltale sign of a man unraveling.

"Shh, it's over now," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he gathered her into his arms.

His tone was soft, almost tender, like a man soothing a wounded animal—like he could somehow erase the agony with empty reassurances.

But his words were nothing but lies. Hollow, meaningless.

The pain still burned across her legs, raw and unrelenting.

The fear that coiled in her chest, the deep-seated dread that paralyzed her—that wouldn't disappear just because he decided it was over.

She trembled violently against him, her breath coming in broken gasps.

Her heartbeat was erratic, a wild drumbeat of terror hammering inside her ribs.

He could feel it beneath his touch, the way her entire body vibrated with sheer, unrelenting fear.

And for the first time, he wished he couldn't feel it.

He carefully lowered Iris to the floor, his movements slow and deliberate as if afraid of breaking her further.

Ace carefully lowered her to the floor, his hands cautious, controlled—so different from the brutality they had wielded just moments ago.

His gaze swept over her, searching, assessing. The red welts had already begun to form across her legs, ugly reminders of what he had done.

The sight made his stomach twist.

Anger coiled in his chest, hot and suffocating—not at her, but at himself.

His fingers hovered above her skin, hesitating, as though he could somehow undo the damage if he just didn't touch her.

But before he could even try—

She flinched.

Not just a small recoil, not just a twitch of discomfort. She flinched like she expected another blow.

Ace froze.

Her eyes, glassy with unshed tears, locked onto his. Wide. Haunted. Terrified.

As though she was staring at a stranger.

Or worse—at a monster.

She scrambled backward, her limbs sluggish but driven by pure survival instinct, until she reached the farthest corner of the room.

She curled into herself, pulling her knees to her chest, her arms locked around her legs like a barrier— like she could shrink herself small enough to disappear.

The sight of her huddled in the corner, her entire body wracked with tremors, sent a sharp, visceral ache through him.

"Mini... let me see."

His voice was quiet, steady, but beneath it, there was something else. An edge of desperation, of regret.

She shook her head violently, her fingers digging into her own arms as she buried her face in her knees, muffling her sobs.

She refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge him. Refused to let him near her.

Each broken sob that escaped her lips was a blade to his chest. Each shake of her head, each sharp inhale of breath between cries, carved into him like a wound that would never close.

He reached out, fingers trembling slightly, and brushed them against her hair— a small, hesitant touch, a silent plea for something he didn't even know how to name.

But the moment his hand made contact, she recoiled so violently it was as if he had struck her again.

A sharp, pained breath left him.

His hand dropped to his side.

She didn't want him.

She couldn't even bear the thought of him touching her.

That realization sank in, heavy and suffocating, drowning him in something far worse than guilt.

Ace swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat.

His body felt cold, his limbs strangely numb as he rose to his feet. He had never felt so... empty.

He turned toward the door, moving with slow, measured steps, his body rigid as though he was holding himself together by sheer will.

But before he left, he cast one last glance over his shoulder.

She was still curled into the corner, her small frame trembling, her sobs quieter now but no less broken.

The image seared itself into his mind.

A haunting, unshakable reminder of the man he had always feared he was.

Ace stepped out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, he felt the weight of the silence pressing down.

They were waiting for him.

Their expressions were a spectrum of emotions—shock, disgust, quiet horror.

They looked at him as if they didn't recognize him anymore.

As if they were seeing him for the first time, again.

The tension was suffocating.

But Ace met their gazes with a cold, detached expression.

No weakness. No regret.

He knew exactly what they were thinking.

He had seen that look before—on others, on everyone—the silent judgment, the barely veiled disgust.

As if he was some heartless, soulless creature. A monster wearing a man's skin.

And wasn't that what he was?

"Try to open this door and see what happens next." His voice cut through the suffocating silence like the edge of a blade, sharp and final as he walked away.

It wasn't just a warning. It was a promise.

The weight of his threat settled over them like a storm cloud, dark and heavy.

It left no room for argument, no space for defiance.

Aiden was the first to crack under it.

His breath hitched, and his hands scrubbed harshly over his face, fingers digging into his skin as if he could claw away the sickening guilt twisting in his gut.

"It's our fault," he rasped, voice raw, broken. "If we didn't try to save her, she wouldn't be in this position."

Felix, standing a few steps away, didn't bother with words.

He didn't have words. All he had was rage—hot, unbearable rage burning through him like wildfire.

With a sudden, violent movement, he slammed his fist into the wall beside him.

The impact was loud, a dull, sickening thud that echoed through the hall, rattling in their bones.

The plaster cracked beneath his knuckles, but he didn't seem to care.

He just stood there, chest heaving, fingers curled into a fist so tight his knuckles turned white.

Then, without another word, he stormed off, his footsteps ringing out like gunshots against the marble floor.

Susan, quieter than the others, stared at the closed door, her eyes distant, lost in thought.

"Why does he want her that much, Hudson?" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, carrying something fragile—something exhausted. "What is it he's obsessing over? Her stupid innocence?"

She said the last part bitterly, as if the idea itself was too pathetic to comprehend.

But the words hung in the air, unanswered.

Hudson stood in silence, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable.

But inside, his thoughts were a storm—raging, colliding, tearing him apart.

He had failed.

He had failed to protect her.

Iris. The girl who had smiled so easily. The girl who had laughed without hesitation. The girl who had offered kindness so blindly.

And Ace had taken that. Corrupted it. Twisted it into something dark, something she could never escape from.

Hudson clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until it hurt.

If circumstances had been different, if she weren't so much younger, perhaps he would have pursued her.

Maybe he would have been the one standing beside her, instead of Ace.

But it didn't matter now.

Because to him, she wasn't some girl to covet.

She was something else—something that pulled at the deepest part of his soul, something raw and vulnerable.

She was a child in his eyes. A fragile, breakable thing.

And he had failed her.

The others looked to him now, waiting for him to speak. Waiting for hope.

But Hudson had none to give.

All he could do was stare at the closed door, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, each one more troubling than the last.