Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Anurak

M y arms trembled, and pain shot through my hands and fingertips as I pressed them against the flooring. My knees were beyond bruised and were bleeding as I put one leg forward, crawling toward my master. Every part of me ached . I was hurting so badly. Tears were threatening, but I knew crying would just bring on an even worse punishment.

I’d spilled my milk at breakfast when Master had started shouting at Marie, the cook, for his yolk not being runny enough in his eggs. It’d frightened me, jerking me out of the headspace I liked to sink into every morning, and my arm had hit the glass of milk, spilling it all over me, the table, and the floor.

Master had stripped me bare, beaten my ass with a wooden spoon until my skin broke and blood ran down my thighs, and then, he’d forced me to my knees, telling me I’d be crawling for the rest of the day.

He’d been making me crawl for over twelve hours now.

One of Master’s guards stopped in front of me, the overhead light of the living room making his black, polished shoes gleam. I swallowed vomit. If one of the guards was bothering me, it was because Master wanted me down in the basement.

The basement was where the true torture happened. Where he let other men touch me and rape me and violate me. Where I couldn’t scream. Couldn’t cry. I just had to take it all and will myself not to fall apart until I reached the safety and comfort of the cage beneath Master’s bed.

That’d been my “room” for years now. I didn’t remember what freedom was like. I’d forgotten what the outside world was like. All I knew were the walls of this mansion and pain . So much pain. But beneath Master’s bed with the lock on my door, I knew he wouldn’t bother me until morning time.

I figured that was as close to freedom as I would ever get.

“Boss wants you downstairs,” the guard growled. “Let’s go.” He nudged my sore knee with his boot, and I bit back a whimper. I hurried after him, even though the pain was excruciating, knowing what would happen if I didn’t follow at the guard’s pace. He’d report me to Master, and Master would punish me much worse.

I couldn’t handle more. I definitely couldn’t handle worse, even though I was headed straight for it.

The reminder had bile rising up my throat at an alarming rate. I barely swallowed it back down.

The guard pushed open the door to the basement, and the strong scent of blood, cigar smoke, and liquor assaulted my nostrils. I swallowed vomit. “Go,” the guard growled. “He’s already pissed with you.”

I swallowed thickly and eyed the wooden stairs in front of me before forcing myself to crawl down them, which was already treacherous. When splinters began biting into my palms and knees, tears rolled down my cheeks. I bit back a sob, my shoulders trembling with the effort.

“Ah, there’s the boy,” Master crooned. “Still crawling like the obedient little boy he is.”

I wasn’t a little boy anymore. I was nineteen. But to Master, I would always be his “little boy”. It made my stomach roil, knowing he wanted me to still be a child. He was nothing more than a pedophile. So sick and twisted and fucked up.

A pair of dirty, scuffed boots entered my vision, and then, the owner of said boots was crouching, his fingertips pressing beneath my chin to tilt my head up. I blinked through my tears, my breath stalling in my chest.

The man was… ruggedly beautiful. With olive skin, dark chocolate eyes, and black hair that looked as soft as silk, the man was gorgeous. It was the scar that sliced through his eyebrow and the hard set to his mouth that made him rugged. But his touch was soft as he caught a tear and gently wiped it away.

“Sit back, perrito ,” he murmured, his voice soft and barely audible.

I trembled, unsure of what to do. Master hadn’t given the command, so I was still on punishment. Usually, Master took me off punishment before allowing his… friends to play with me.

“Master—”

“None of that,” he murmured, his voice barely audible to my own ears. “Sit back.” I slowly did as he instructed, planting my ass on the floor. Once the pressure was gone, my hands and knees immediately started throbbing , and more tears slid down my cheeks. The man cupped my cheeks, catching my tears and eyeing them like he hated they were being wasted. When his eyes met mine again, they were even darker and filled with rage. I flinched back from him. He tightened his hold on my face. “Can you do me a favor?”

I nodded. He smiled then—a soft smile that settled my racing heart and eased some of the trembling fear that had set in my bones. “Rico, what are you doing with my boy?” Master demanded, easing out of his chair. My eyes snapped to his, wide with fear, but Rico moved into my line of vision, blocking my view of Master.

“Squeeze your eyes shut, perrito , and hold your hands over your ears as tight as you can, okay? Your misery ends tonight.”

As he stood to his full height, I quickly did as he said, plastering my hands to my ears so hard, my temples pulsed with pain. Lights danced behind my eyeballs as I squeezed my eyes shut.

But that first gunshot was still extremely loud.

And my screams of terror filled the air.