Chapter 67
Welcome to Hell
Chapter 67
Elijah Vaughn
The first thing I felt when I woke up was pain.
A crushing weight pressed down on my body, as if every muscle had been beaten to its limit. Even the simple act of breathing made my chest throb painfully, and when I tried to move my fingers, a sharp jolt shot through my arms, dragging a rough groan from my lips.
My eyes opened with difficulty, my eyelids heavy and burning, as if they were bruised and swollen shut. The dim light of the cell blinded me for a moment, and I needed a few seconds to adjust my vision.
I was alone.
I tried to turn my head to better scan the room, but a burst of pain radiated from the base of my neck to my scalp, forcing me to freeze in place.
F**k… I couldn’t even move without feeling like my body was being torn apart from the inside.
I closed my eyes again and tried to steady my breathing, fighting not to panic. But the knot tightening in my throat made everything harder.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to let out all the fear, the tension, and the relief tangled inside me in a suffocating spiral.
But I knew that if I started, the sobs would make my body hurt even more.
And I was already at my limit.
I didn’t need a mirror to know I was covered head to toe in bruises.
My skin had always been sensitive, and any bump left marks. So after everything that happened… it was impossible to imagine a single patch of me that wasn’t purple.
The Crusher had destroyed me, nearly killed me out there in the yard.
But I was alive.
And it wasn’t because I was strong enough to endure.
It was because Dante arrived in time.
A soft breath escaped me, a strange mix of emotions invading my chest.
Relief.
Gratitude.
But also fear.
Not fear of what could have happened… but of what actually did.
Dante didn’t abandon me.
The guards had lied.
Everything they told me was a fucking lie.
He never betrayed me, never threw me cut to die.
Chapter 67
I was manipulated, and I almost accepted my death without fighting because I believed he didn’t want me anymore.
Just the idea of Dante not being by my side had been enough to destroy me inside.
Knowing it was all a setup eased the pressure on my chest a little, but it also made me realize something even worse.
I couldn’t imagine myself without him anymore.
My mind was so deeply rooted in him that just the suggestion he didn’t want me anymore was enough to break me.
What did that mean?
I didn’t want to think about it right now.
I was exhausted, physically and mentally, and I couldn’t handle any more doubts.
I just wanted to rest.
My mind wandered back to the night before.
Dante is taking care of me.
He washed my body patiently, cleaning the blood and sweat with a tenderness I never thought he was capable of.
He touched me with a delicacy that felt wrong for someone like him, like I was something precious, something that needed to be protected at all costs.
I remembered his hands massaging ointment into my wounds while I slept, his care meticulous, his touch precise.
He had given me painkillers without rushing, doing everything himself, not letting anyone else handle me.
I never imagined a man like Dante could act that way.
Because I knew he wasn’t good.
He wasn’t kind.
He only showed his softer side when it suited him, but I knew exactly who he really was.
And yet, he treated me like I was his most prized possession.
I swallowed hard, trying to make sense of the strange feeling settling inside me.
No one had ever cared for me like that.
No one had ever treated me as anything more than disposable.
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