Chapter 2
Ethan
The force of the shove sent me flying. I hit the ground hard, and the impact traveled through my entire body. My knees cracked against the cold stone, and the sound echoed in the quiet room. I felt the air leave my lungs in an instant. I stayed down for a moment, gasping for breath, before a wet cough forced its way out of my throat. It tasted like iron. I coughed again, watching small flecks of blood hit the stone floor. My head felt heavy and dizzy, but I forced myself to look up through the haze.
I was angry. I was more than angry; I was frustrated. I had been so close to finishing the task. Felix was seconds away from snapping my neck and sending me back to my world with a bank account full of money. I wanted to know who had just ruined my payday.
The torches on the walls flickered, and the light moved in sharp angles across the small room. A man stood near the doorway. He was tall and lean, wearing a long black coat that seemed to swallow the light around him. His hair was the color of spilled ink, messy but somehow perfect. His eyes were the strangest part. They were so pale that they almost looked like glowing silver in the dim light of the room. He did not smile. His lips stayed in a straight line, giving him an expression of quiet menace. Everything about him looked like it was made of cold, hard bone and expensive fabric.
"System," I whispered, my voice sounding like sandpaper. "Who is this one?"
The red text appeared in front of my eyes immediately. It floated right next to the man's head.
Host, this is Mick. The Second Prince. He is the quietest of the seven brothers. He is also the most dangerous. Recommendation: Stay far away. Do not provoke him.
I felt a small, rough chuckle build up in my chest. I didn't care about the warning. If he was the most dangerous, he was exactly what I needed. "Wow," I muttered under my breath. "Why are they all built like sin and death at the same time? It is really unfair."
System: Host is displaying concerning enthusiasm.
"Just watch me," I whispered back to the empty air.
Mick took a step forward. His boots were silent on the stone ground. He moved with a kind of grace that made him look like a predator. He stopped right next to Felix and looked down at me. His gaze flicked between me and his younger brother as if he were reading a boring report or looking at a piece of broken furniture.
"What is going on here?" Mick asked. His voice was low and smooth. It sounded almost gentle, but it was the kind of gentle that made my skin crawl. It was the voice of someone who knew the knife was already in your back before you even felt the pain.
Felix opened his mouth to explain, but I didn't give him the chance. I needed to keep the heat on. I needed one of them to lose their cool and finish me off. I cut in, making my voice as loud and sharp as possible.
"Why does he even want to know?" I sneered, looking at Felix but talking about Mick. "Is he really that bored? Did he come running down here just to gossip like some lady at a royal court?"
Mick's head tilted slightly to the side. For a split second, I saw a flash of confusion on his cold, flawless face. He wasn't used to slaves talking. He certainly wasn't used to slaves insulting him. Then, those silver eyes settled fully on me. They felt like two ice cubes pressing against my skin.
I did not stop there. I had to keep going. "What? Why is he staring at me like that? Is every prince in this mansion this dull? Can you not even handle a little conversation without looking lost and confused?"
Felix let out a low snarl, but Mick ignored him completely. Mick moved then. His steps were slow and deliberate. He closed the distance between us until he towered over me. I felt small on the floor, but I kept my chin up. One of his hands shot out, his fingers wrapping around my throat. It was the same move Felix had used, but it felt different. Felix had been brutal and messy. Mick was controlled and precise. He held me with just enough force to let me know he could crush my windpipe with the tiniest flex of his fingers. He didn't even seem to be trying.
"A low slave," he said softly, his face inches from mine. "You dare to speak to me like this. Are you not afraid of death?"
I met his stare. I didn't blink, and I didn't let my hands tremble. I didn't feel like a victim anymore.
For a heartbeat, I felt a flicker of the old Ethan. I remembered the old fear. I remembered how my stomach used to twist into knots when the bills piled up on my kitchen table. I remembered the way my heart would race when the phone wouldn't stop ringing with debt collectors on the other end. But that Ethan was gone. That Ethan had died the moment I woke up in this stone room. This body did not belong to him anymore, and neither did the fear.
"Then kill me," I said. My voice was steady. I even made myself sound a little bit bored. "Go on. Do it. If you do not kill me right now, it just makes you look like a coward. You do not want to look weak in front of your baby brother, right? That would be embarrassing."
Mick's eyes changed. The silver started to bleed into red. It happened slowly at first, and then his eyes turned into a full, glowing crimson. His hand tightened on my neck. I felt the cartilage in my throat shift again. The pressure was intense. Black spots began to dance at the edges of my vision, and my lungs screamed for air.
Yes, I thought. This is it. Come on. Do it.
"Mick," Felix said from the side. His voice had a new edge to it—something that sounded like dark amusement. "Do you not think killing him is too easy? Look at him. He actually wants it. He is begging for you to end it."
Mick's grip loosened. It was only a fraction, but it was enough for a tiny bit of air to reach my lungs.
No. No. Do not you dare stop now, I thought. I felt a surge of panic. I couldn't let them change their minds.
I forced the words out past the pressure of his fingers. "Please. Do not stop now. Finish it. Prove you have the guts."
Felix stepped closer, a grin spreading across his face. He looked like a shark that had just found a new toy. "Why do we not lock him up instead? We can give him two days in the dark. No food. No water. Let us see how mouthy he stays after he has spent forty-eight hours with his own thoughts."
I laughed. It was a hoarse, ugly sound, but it was real. "That is your best idea? You are going to try and starve me? That is pathetic. If you do not kill me right here and right now, I am making a promise. The second I get free, I am coming for both of your throats. I swear it."
Both of them stared at me. The room went silent.
Mick's red eyes searched my face. He looked like he was trying to peel back my skin to see what kind of broken, strange thing lived underneath. He looked for fear, but he didn't find any.
"Dying would be too easy for you," Mick said finally. His voice was quiet and final. He let go of my throat, and I slumped back against the stone.
Before I could spit another word or try another insult, hands grabbed me from behind. It was Felix this time. He was rough and angry. He yanked my arms back, pinning them hard against my spine. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulders. Then, his fingers caught my chin and forced my head up. I had no choice but to look into his furious eyes.
"You will regret every single word you just said," Felix hissed. "I promise you that. You will wish for death, and I will not give it to you."
The next thing I knew, I was flying. Felix threw me like I was a piece of trash. My back hit the cold stone wall of a cell, and I tumbled to the floor. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind me with a loud, ringing sound. I was in total darkness. There was no torch, no window, and no sound except for my own ragged, heavy breathing.
I pushed myself up on shaking arms. My body ached, and my throat felt like it was on fire.
"System," I rasped into the dark. "Since they will not kill me… what happens if I just die now? If I starve to death or find a way to choke myself? Does that count? Can I go back home?"
The system response appeared in faint red letters. The light from the words was so dim it barely lit the area around my hands.
Negative. Death outside of task parameters results in permanent termination. No return to original world. Host body will cease to exist. Game over.
I felt a surge of pure rage. I slammed my fist into the stone floor. A sharp pain shot up my arm, making me wince. I wanted to scream, but I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of hearing me.
"How hard can it be to die?" I whispered to myself. "People drop dead every single day. They get into car accidents. They have heart attacks. They choke on a damn grape. Why is my death this complicated? Why can I not just get someone to kill me?"
I dragged a hand through my hair, pulling on the strands hard enough to hurt. I was stuck. I was in a body that wasn't mine, in a world full of monsters, and I couldn't even manage to lose a fight properly.
Before I could finish the thought, the cell door groaned open again. The light from the hallway spilled into the dark room, making me squint.
I heard the sound of heavy boots. A guard walked in. He was the same stone-faced man who had dragged me earlier. He didn't say anything. He just reached down, grabbed my arm, and hauled me up as if I weighed nothing at all.
He did not speak. Just dragged me out into the corridor. I stumbled after him, chains rattling, wondering exactly where the hell they were taking me now.