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With a sudden, violent yank, he pulled her away from the wall and dragged her through the castle. The corridors flew by in a blur of torchlight and shadows, the sound of his boots and her stumbling steps echoing through the empty halls. Ivy tried to dig in her heels, to fight back, but his grip is like iron, unyielding and unbreakable.

He stops abruptly, shoving her into a chamber she's never seen before. The walls are lined with weapons, some ancient and others disturbingly modern, each one gleaming with malicious intent.

The smell hit her like a ton of bricks, a nauseating mix of iron and death. It clung to her nostrils, thick and oppressive, turning her stomach. She looked down at the floor it was stained brown, she looked around to see the bones of countless souls who never left this room.

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, and she stumbled backward in shock and horror, her eyes wide. The room was a grim testament to the darker side of Vice's nature, and she felt a deep sense of dread wash over her.

He grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him, his grip was crushing. "Do you still think there's more to me?" he snarled, his eyes blazing with fury. "Look around, Ivy. This is who I am."

Before she could answer he yanked her from the room. He slammed the door with a thunderous finality, cutting off the stench and the grisly sight.

Ivy stood in the hallway, trembling. She felt like she'd been dunked in ice water, the reality of her situation sinking in like a cold, heavy weight. She didn't know what to say. How could she possibly respond to that? The walls felt like they were crushing her.

Vice turned and looked at her “You run from me again, and I’ll tie you to the bed and make you scream every second you were gone.” He says, his face devoid of any emotion. Without another word he turned and walked away leaving her alone.

Ivy's legs gave out, and she sank to the cold floor, her body trembling as sobs racked her frame. She brought her knees up to her chest and laid her head on them, the true reality of her situation crashing down on her. She was trapped in thisnightmare with a monster. She had to find a way out of this before she became the next victim who didn't leave.

Chapter 12:

As the days war on each day felt like an eternity in his castle of despair. The silence was deafening; the emptiness of the stone corridors was maddening. The only company she had was Spicy and the ghosts of her past, their whispers haunting her every move.

Her mornings began with the same breakfast every day, the delicious taste of the food had become bland, mirroring the bleakness of her days. Afterward, she’d make her way to the library, her steps echoing through the halls like a funeral march. The books were all in languages she couldn’t read, a cruel twist in her quest for escape. She’d spend hours staring at the foreign words, her eyes glazed with unshed tears, willing them to make sense, to offer some respite from her reality.

Her mind was her only sanctuary, a place where she could lose herself in her own fantasies. Something she had done since she was little. Each story she’d make up was always about finding true love. She’d go to the library and write them down as she thought of them. The musty smell of old parchment and the comforting silence were the only constants in a world ruled by fear and uncertainty. She’d sit there all day sometimes, her mind wandering, trying to find peace in her stories. But even there, the looming presence of Vice’s power was inescapable, his shadow darkening every single one of her stories.

One evening, as the sun cast its last dying rays through the castle’s stained-glass windows, she found a book hidden in a dusty corner. It was worn and tattered, its pages yellowed with age. It was written in a language she recognized – English. A spark of hope flared within her chest as she read the title: “TheArt of Seduction.” The book spoke of power and control, of how to bend others to you're will. It was a manual for a game she never thought she’d play, but she felt a strange compulsion to read on, as if the pages held the key to understanding her captor.

As she delved deeper into the ancient text, she found herself drawing parallels between its content and her own life. The strategies within, though twisted and manipulative, resonated with the way Vice had wormed his way into her psyche, making her crave his touch despite the horror of her situation. It was as if the author had penned a roadmap to the heart of a monster, and she was following it step by step, hoping it would lead her to some semblance of freedom.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching her chamber. She hastily shoved the book under her pillow, her heart hammering in her chest. The heavy door swung open, and in strode Vice, his hooded coat billowing like a dark cloud. His eyes searched hers, looking for something she wasn’t sure she wanted to reveal.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time in the library,” he observed, his tone curious. “What do you seek there, Ivy?”

Ivy’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. She couldn’t let him know she’d been reading about the very tactics he used on her. “Nothing important,” she said, with no emotion in her voice. “Just stories,”

Vice stepped closer, his boots clicking against the stone floor. He grabbed his jaw, slowly dragging his fingers down to his chin. “And what do you find in these stories that you can’t find here?”

Ivy swallowed hard, her heart racing. “Freedom,” she said, hoping her answer would satisfy him. “They offer a world where I’m not a…. prisoner.” Vice’s gaze narrowed, his eyes searching hers. “So that’s what you want, Ivy?” he asked softly. “To escape?”

Her eyes met his, and she felt a flicker of anger. “Yes,” she said, her voice steady, “you know that I want to go home.”

Vice leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “Home,” he murmured, his gaze traveling over her, as if he could see straight through to her soul. “But what is home without someone to share it with?”

Ivy felt a shiver run down her spine. “I have Alice and James,” she said firmly, her voice unwavering.

Vice chuckled, a cold, mocking sound. “Do you really?” He stepped closer, his breath hot against her cheek.

Ivy’s eyes flashed with anger, but she remained silent, refusing to take the bait.

“Ivy,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “You’re so naïve to think you can outsmart me.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for any crack in his façade. “What do you mean?” she demanded, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. Vice reached out and grabbed Ivy by the chin forcing her back against the bed. Causing the book to fall from beneath her pillow onto the floor.

Vice’s smirk grew wider as he watched the book fall to the floor. He bent down and picked it up, his eyes scanning thetitle with amusement. “The Art of Seduction,” he read aloud, his eyes meeting hers with a knowing look. “Interesting choice.”

Ivy’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “It’s just a book,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s also the only book written in English in the whole damn library.”

Vice’s eyes remained on her, unblinking. “You’re not fooling me, Ivy,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You think you can learn how to seduce me?” He flipped through the pages, his expression one of amusement. “I’m afraid I’m a bit beyond the basics.”