Sold To The Alphas I Hate - Chapter 155

Chapter 155: That Girl In Prison
Rafe’s POV

We reached the underground dungeons at the far corner of the estate. As the heavy iron door creaked open, we stopped at the top of the massive staircase leading downward. She froze in place to see the way to underground.

Outside, it was a bright day, but down here no sunlight could reach .

I clasped her hand firmly. “Don’t worry. I am with you.”

Her response came through as she let her senses calm. I was sure now she was well aware why we were going there.

We descended into the depths, our footsteps echoing against stone walls as the wide corridor stretched before us, lined with lights that banished only some of the shadows. We passed chamber after chamber, each one marked by the remnants of punishment, and I could feel her gaze linger, wary and sharp, as though memorizing everything.

“Here, we only punish the assholes,” I told her, “the ones who don’t deserve a quiet death. And today you will witness one yourself.”

She didn’t flinch at it, that meant she had made her mind.

We stopped in front of one chamber and I opened the thick and heavy metal door to enter it. I entered first and then led her inside after me so she wouldn’t be scared.

Inside, in the center of the room, there was a man locked in the metal chair, hands, legs, and torso held in place so it wouldn’t move anymore. The face was covered with a dark cloth over his head.

The moment he sensed our presence, he started to make a movement or sound, but nothing happened. Obviously, his shitty mouth was taped.

“Here’s our prey for the day,” I told Eira as she stood by the door warily, looking at the man in the chair.

I walked towards the man, “Let me uncover his face and see if you can remember him.”

As I reached the chair and was about to uncover his face, I felt anxiousness surrounding her face, her hands gripping her dress.

I uncovered his face anyway.

It didn’t even take her a moment to recognise him as I could see the heavy shift in her expressions. Terror flashed through her eyes as though an old nightmare had stepped out of the dark. She stumbled back, her legs nearly giving way, and braced against the wall beside the door, breath breaking into ragged gasps.

I rushed to her side and pulled her into my arms. She clung to me desperately, burying her face against my chest, her fists tightening around my shirt as though I were her only anchor. Her heart hammered at a frantic pace, each beat thundering in my ears.

Just like in the prison, she held on as if I were her last lifeline, refusing to let go.

“You recognised him, right?” I said, giving her time to absorb the shock. “One of the prison incharge’s friends, who first laid his filthy hands on you in that hellhole, and later helped sell you to the traffickers. I’ve already killed the rest of them, but this piece of shit slipped away. Managed to save his skin for a few more days.”

She didn’t respond. She even refused to turn her face and look at him again.

“I know you are scared, you are in pain, but you know why you are here,” I continued, my hand caressing her back, “Are you going to be this way forever, frightened and crying over what happened to you? Don’t you want to punish those who hurt you?

“When they were abusing you, the pain you felt, the way they made you feel helpless, don’t you want to make them feel the same pain and helplessness you felt? The worst thing we can ever feel is not the pain, but the helplessness that we couldn’t do anything to stop them. That helplessness is the real torment. Don’t you, for once, want to get out of that feeling of helplessness?

“When they were abusing you, didn’t you feel like hurting them back as well? All you have to do is take that out. What you couldn’t do to them back then, today you have a chance to do it. I am here with you. You can do anything you want and no one’s here to stop you. That bastard is entirely locked to even move a muscle, let alone harm you back. Want me to show you?”

She didn’t want to let go of me, but I felt my words burrowing into her thoughts. I eased her from my chest and guided her to an empty chair, placing it across from the prisoner but at a safe distance.

“Sit,” I told her. “Watch. I’ll show you how helpless he really is.”

I went to the table that was placed on the right side, which had various tools arranged neatly at the top of it. I picked one sharp tool from it and walked towards the man with the tool spinning it between my fingers with practiced ease as though it were nothing more than a toy.

His eyes were horrid as he knew he wasn’t going alive from here. His entire body seemed to be covered in a layer of thick sweat, failing to struggle even. I could tell it wouldn’t be long till the asshole peed his pants.

I removed the tape from his mouth in a harsh move. Even before he could open his mouth to get the air in, in a flash of a movement the sharp object was stabbed mercilessly in the back of his palm that rested on the chair handrest.

The man’s scream tore through the chamber, raw and guttural, only to be cut short as I slapped the tape back over his mouth, forcing the sound back into his throat. He choked on his own breathe, eyes ready pop out of their socket.

It was a tactic I knew well—pain doubled when the victim was denied even the release of his own voice.

I looked at Eira, who sat there quietly, staring at the man. “Did you see, he couldn’t do shit.”

I went to her, the bloodied tool still playing in my fingers. “Even if you stab him a hundred times, even if you cut his body apart piece by piece, gouge out his eyes, rip out his tongue—he still wouldn’t move a muscle.”

The more she heard me, the more she started to be calm. But the man quaked in terror, his entire body drenched in sweat. Droplets slid down from his temples, streaking his cheeks as he shook, desperate, suffocating in fear.

He wanted to speak. Of course, to beg, to grovel for his miserable life.

Well, it wasn’t a bad idea either. She needed to hear begging and apologies as well from the assholes, that would tell her they regretted it, they were wrong and needed her mercy, but she wouldn’t show any. The revenge after your enemy begged you to forgive them, to not kill them, was always fulfilling.

“Seems like this bastard wants to say something. Let’s hear him,” I said, striding back toward him.

With a harsh pull, I ripped the tape from his mouth. He sucked in air with a wheeze, his chest heaving, before the words spilled out of him like a frantic parrot—fast, desperate, and pitiful.

“I…I know you are…that girl in prison…” the man said quickly, “…but…trust me…it was Luis who forced me to do it…”

Fucking liar!

I wanted to get my hands over him and try my unique torture skills on him right away, but…only if I had not decided to leave him for her…

Eira’s expressions didn’t change even a bit as she simply stared at him, no emotions in her eyes, vacant, but I knew something was going to come out of them soon.

“…I didn’t hurt you like they did…” the bastard continued to blabber desperately, even more after getting no reaction from her. “…They were the ones to drug you…they tied you…I didn’t…they burned their cigarettes on your skin and forced the leftover cigarette buds down your throat…I didn’t…I don’t even smoke…I swear…They whipped and beat you…I didn’t…I just fucked you and walked away…I didn’t do anything else…I didn’t want to disappoint Luis for his invitation…that’s why I fucked you…trust me I didn’t want to do it…I…”

He rattled on, words spilling like filth.

Meanwhile, Eira stood up from the chair, got the tool from my hand, and the next moment all I knew was that she had stabbed it right in his chest.

His scream split the air, raw and agonized, his eyes wide with horror as he looked at her.

Oops! So close to the heart, but not fatal enough to kill him. At the same time, his words of what they did with her continued to echo in my mind. It took everything in me to not kill him right away.

“Good girl,” I praised her, walking to her while she pulled out that sharp object from his chest.

Her face was cold, merciless, stripped of fear. Anger smoldered in her eyes, sharp and unrelenting, fixed on him like a predator toying with its prey.

At this moment, I knew I wasn’t wrong to bring her here.

She raised the blade again, ready to strike, but I caught her wrist.

Her eyes snapped to mine, blazing with fury, but I spoke softly, steady.

“Depending on whether you want him to die quickly, or want to prolong his pain before he dies, you need to choose the places to hurt him.”

She waited to hear more.

“If you want him to die quickly, stab his heart or his neck. But if you want to prolong his suffering, if you want him to feel every breath as a curse, you strike here.” I pointed towards certain areas of his body, the stomach, thighs, shoulder, this part of the chest, ribs, waist, “Wounds will keep him alive, writhing in pain. He’ll beg for death, but it won’t come.”

Then I adjusted her grip, curling her fingers around the hilt of the tool. “And, you hold it this way.”