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Ivy flinched away from his touch, her eyes flashing with anger. "I'm not you're little mouse," she spat, her voice trembling. "I'm a person, with a life and a daughter." "That you took away from," She hissed. Before she could finish his hand was wrapped tight around her throat.

"You begged for this," he growled, his grip tightening almost to the point of cutting off her air completely. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity that made her knees go weak. "You begged for the life of the man who sired you're child," hereminded her, his voice a dark rumble that filled the chamber. "You offered you're life in exchange. And now, you will obey me or face the consequences."

Ivy's chest heaved with the effort to breathe, her eyes wide with terror and defiance. But she knew he was right. She had made a deal with the devil, and now she was paying the price. She could feel the brand on her wrist burning, a constant reminder of the bargain she had struck. "You're a monster," she rasped, her voice barely audible.

Vice's smile was cruel, his eyes gleaming with a dark light. "Perhaps," he agreed, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with a disturbing gentleness. "But you came to me, Ivy. You sought me out, begged for what I could give. Don't forget that."

Her throat tightened, both from his grip and the bitter truth of his words. She had been desperate, willing to do anything to save James. And now she was paying the price, trapped in this twisted dance of power and desire. "Let me go," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Vice's grip loosened, but his hand remained on her neck, his thumb tracing a gentle path along her pulse point. "Make no mistake," he said, his voice a dark whisper that sent shivers down her spine, "you are mine now. Your life is forfeit to me."

His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of submission, of acceptance. But all he saw was anger and fear, a fiery determination that only served to stoke the flames of his desire. "You can only deny me for so long," he said, his words a promise and a threat all rolled into one. "You will serve me, pleasure me, and maybe, if you're a good little mouse, I'll let you live to see another day."

The cruelty in his voice was like a slap across the face, snapping her out of the haze of fear and passion. "You enjoy this," she hissed, her voice filled with revulsion. "You enjoy hurting people. All because of an accident."

Vice's smile faded, his eyes like twin pools of black ice. "Is that what you think?" he asked, his tone mocking. "That I'm just some monster who stumbled into power?" He took a step closer, the heat of his body almost a tangible presence in the frigid room. "No, Ivy, it was no 'accident' about what I am," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Every scar, every power, every drop of darkness in my soul was meticulously crafted by the very people who claim to protect us."

With a sudden, violent motion, he grabbed her arm and yanked her from the wall, throwing her to the cold, hard floor. She landed with a thud, the impact stealing the breath from her lungs. He stood over her, his shadow a looming specter on the stone. "You see," he continued, his words dripping with malice, "I was born into this world, a human, only to be stolen away by you're government and turned into their weapon." His grip on her arm tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh.

Her vision swam, the edges of her consciousness blurring into darkness. And then, without warning, she was standing in a stark white room, the sterility of it making her skin crawl. In the center was a chair, and in that chair, a little boy no more than five years old, strapped down with cold metal restraints. His face was a mask of terror, eyes wide and pleading.

"What are you doing to him?" Ivy's voice was a hoarse whisper, the horror of the scene stealing her breath. "He's just a child! Stop it, please! She screamed. Vice stood silently staring at her. An unreadable expression on his face. She couldn't juststand here and let him hurt this poor boy. She sprinted towards the horror in front of her.

The child in the chair his wide terrified eyes and trembling lips. Ivy's heart shattered at the sight. "No, please, don't hurt him!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the room. She didn't know how she could feel such pain for a stranger, but it was as if she could see her own daughter's fear in his eyes.

But as she reached towards the boy, her hand passed through the restraint as if it were made of smoke. She stumbled, her hand touching nothing but cold, empty air. The scene around her flickered, and the boy began to fade, his cries for help becoming more distant. Ivy spun around to meet Vice's gaze. His eyes were now filled with a rage that seemed to burn through her very soul.

"What was that?" she choked out, her voice trembling.

Vice's smile was cold. "A glimpse of the truth," he said, his voice a low growl. "The truth about what you're government did to me." He lifted his arm, revealing the thick black wristband that had been hidden beneath his sleeve. With a sharp tug, he pulled it free, and Ivy gasped as she saw the scars beneath, a gruesome reminder of the metal restraints that had once held him captive.

The room shifted again, and the images of the little boy grew clearer. He was older now; his face twisted with pain and anger as he struggled against the very same straps that now held Ivy's gaze. She watched, horrified, as needles pierced his skin, as lights flashed in his eyes, as his screams filled the sterile space.Each new image brought with it a fresh wave of nausea and despair.

"Vice," she choked out, her voice barely more than a whisper, "stop, please." But he didn't move, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before them, his hand tightening around the wristband.

Her eyes were wide with horror as she watched the boy's transformation into the monster before her. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the images of his torment, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. "Please," she begged, her voice cracking with emotion. "I didn't know."

Vice's expression didn't soften, his grip on the wristband tightening even further. "Of course you didn't, they covered it up" he said, his voice a low growl.

The scene shifted again, and the boy was now a young man, his body a canvas of scars and bruises. Ivy could see the anger building in his eyes, the spark of power that had been buried deep within him. The room was a cacophony of pain, of screams that seemed to echo through the very fabric of time. The scientists around him had gone from being his captors to his prey, their once cold, calculated gazes now filled with fear and desperation as he ripped them to pieces, he tore through the lab like a tornado of rage.

They had pushed him too far. They had tried to control him, to use him as a weapon, but they had failed. His power had grown too great, too uncontainable. The walls of the chamber trembled as he broke free from his bonds, his eyes burning with a fierce determination that seemed to light the very air around him.

The scientists in the room scurried like rats, desperate to escape the wrath of the creature they had created. But there was no escape. One by one, they fell before him, their screams of terror a sweet symphony to his ears. He had been a pawn in their twisted game, but now he was the player, the one dictating the moves. And he played with a ferocity that left no room for mercy.

Ivy couldn’t look away.

He moved like something unchained—feral, unstoppable. The first scientist didn’t stand a chance. Vice slammed him against the wall with bone-snapping force, and Ivy flinched as the man’s skull split open, a burst of blood and brain matter painting the sterile white tiles. Another tried to run. She saw him scramble—saw the raw panic in his eyes—but Vice was faster. He caught the man by the throat, lifting him effortlessly, fingers digging in. The wet crunch of cartilage giving way turned her stomach, and the limp body fell with a thud.

Screams erupted around her, but none of them came from her own mouth. She was silent. Frozen. Watching. Bleeding from the inside out.

Vice didn’t stop. He grabbed a scalpel from the tray and plunged it into a man’s chest, again and again, until the body twitched and then finally went still. Blood ran in rivers, pooling at his feet.

A female scientist staggered backward, slipping in the gore. She fell hard, elbows smacking the tile, and crawled against the wall, her lab coat soaked crimson. Blood poured from a gash above her brow, running into her eyes as she stared up at him, sobbing.

“I didn’t touch you,” she cried, choking on her own fear. “I never touched you—I swear, I never—”

Vice towered over her. For a moment, he said nothing. He only stared—deep into her eyes. Ivy could see the stillness in him, the awful silence before the storm. There was no rage in his face now. Just something colder. Final.