Chapter 4 A costly mistake

"Let me go, I need to see him! He has no right to keep me here!" A voice, sharp with panic and rage, screamed from the hallway just outside my office door. I lunged toward the handle, intending to check the commotion, but before my fingers could graze the brass, the door was slammed inward with a deafening crash. Emily stumbled into the room, her eyes blazing. "I did what was expected of me, but you still insist on keeping me here," she spat, struggling to regain her breath. "I demand you release me this instant!

I didn't even glance at her. Instead, I fixed my gaze on Alex, who had followed cautiously into the office. "Take her to the guest room on the second floor, next to Luca's. And get her a change of clothes—she looks like a street whore," I stated, the final assessment delivered flatly.

She delivered a vicious, stinging blow to my cheek, the sound exploding in the quiet air.

I didn't flinch, didn't even rub the spot, but my formerly dismissive gaze snapped up to Emily's face. My hand moved automatically to the firearm holstered at my hip, though I didn't draw it. My voice, when it finally broke the tension, was a low, dangerous rumble that barely carried past the three of us.

"That was a mistake, Emily," I said, my eyes cold and steady, "A costly mistake."

I took one deliberate step toward her. The title "Lucifer" was earned for a reason, and it was not for physical brutality towards a woman; it was for the fear I could create without touching them. I didn't grab her. Instead, I simply pointed a rigid finger toward the doorway.

"You will turn around, walk down this hall, and enter the room next to Luca's. Now". I didn't raise my voice, but the command was absolute, a heavy weight dropped between us. "I do not negotiate, and what I say goes. Any defiance, any wasted breath, and I will ensure that you are never to be seen again. Do you understand the consequence of your next move?"

She stood there, trembling, the panic and rage in her eyes giving way to a sickening terror as she finally grasped the level of control I held.

"Alex," I called, without looking away from Emily. "Escort her. She will be secured in that room until the doctor arrives. If she so much as trips on the carpet, you answer to me."

Emily slowly turned, her shoulders dropped, and began to walk slowly out of the office, Alex moving silently to follow her, ensuring her compliance.

Emily PoV

Alex didn't speak a word as he escorted me down the hallway and into the assigned guest room. The silence was heavier than any shout, underscoring the absolute control I was now under.

My body was still trembling, the adrenaline crash leaving me shaky and hollowed out. My initial panic and anger were quickly replaced by fear when Marco spoke in a low, threatening tone.Time seemed to drag as I realized what I'd done , the slap felt like hours ago, but the fear still had me on a chokehold.

I sank onto the edge of the bed. The reality had snapped into focus, compliance is survival. I had one goal in mind, to comply and go home tomorrow and forget this day ever happened.

If I could just survive the tonight, I could reclaim my life. Tomorrow, I'd be home. I'd sleep in my own bed, and Monday, I'd walk back into the hospital, leaving this nightmare locked away.

I forced myself up from the bed, needing to wash the lingering smell of fear and blood off. I walked toward the attached bathroom, my legs still feeling weak. The thought of clean water running over my skin was the only comfort available.

I turned the shower on—very hot—and stepped under the spray, letting it run over my face and hair, trying to scrub away the horrifying events of the last hour.

I was mid-shower, scrubbing furiously at my arm, when I heard it: a sharp knock on the bedroom door, immediately followed by the sound of the handle turning and the door being pushed open. I tensed, my heart pounding against my ribs. Marco. No, he would never knock. It must be Alex, or maybe the housemaid.

When I finally stepped out of the humid bathroom, my eyes went straight to the bed. Sitting composedly on the edge of the mattress was Rose. Next to her, laid out neatly on the comforter, was a selection of clothes: a pair of soft, grey sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a thick, comfortable-looking zip-up hoodie. All of it looked new.

"They instructed me to ensure you change," Rose said, her voice quiet but firm. She didn't look at my towel-wrapped form, only at the clothes. "Please choose quickly. Dr. Thomas is expected soon. Marco doesn't like waiting."

"How is he?" I asked, my voice slightly raspy. I tightened my grip on the towel. "Is he stable? Has he spiked a fever?"

Rose finally lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting mine. They were calm, but deeply shadowed with exhaustion and worry. "He is as stable as you left him, Doctor. But I suggest you focus on the current order. Get dressed."

She then stood up and left, closing the door softly behind her*.

The silence she left behind was heavy, thick with unspoken warnings. Rose's dislike was evident, even though she knew I wanted nothing more than to leave this place. Her usual expression when addressing me was one of unconcealed annoyance.

I dropped the towel and quickly pulled on the clothes. The sweatpants were absurdly soft, a welcome relief after hours spent in the uncomfortable, slit-up-the-thigh dress I'd worn when I was first dragged here. The t-shirt felt like a comforting second skin. Within sixty seconds, I was covered, the familiar feeling of being properly dressed giving me back a bit more confidence, a small protection against the fear that lingered.