Page 32 of Discordant Cultivation

“Brush your teeth.”

Kieran tried to turn his head. Vale’s hand kept him facing the mirror, facing his own helplessness reflected back at him.

“I’ll hold you here all day if necessary. Or you can brush your teeth and we can move on.”

The worst part was how Vale’s voice stayed gentle. Like this was reasonable. Like forcing someone to perform basic hygiene while holding them by the hair was just good time management.

Kieran’s hand shook, reaching for his toothbrush.

Vale kept his grip until Kieran finished brushing, rinsing, and spitting. He released him when Kieran was done, turning toward the door like he expected Kieran to simply follow.

“Shower. Ten minutes.”

The door closed. Locked from the outside with a quiet click.

Kieran sank against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, trying to find his anger under the exhaustion and fear. It was there—had to be there—burning in his chest like a swallowed coal.

I won’t let him break me. I’ll fight every single time.

The anger felt like the only thing keeping him human.

Kieran knew it was coming when Vale appeared in the living room doorway at precisely two o’clock.

“It’s time to go downstairs.”

Every muscle in Kieran’s body locked. “No.”

Vale’s expression didn’t change. “Sweetheart—”

“I s-said no.” Kieran pressed himself further into the couch, hands gripping the cushions like he could anchor himself to safety through sheer force of will. “I’m n-not going down there. You c-can’t make me.”

Vale crossed the room in three strides.

Kieran tried to bolt, but Vale was faster. His hand closed around the back of Kieran’s neck, his fingers digging into muscles and tendons hard enough to make Kieran’s vision go white at the edges. The pressure was precise, controlled, and intimate in its knowledge of exactly where to press to make his body stop listening to him.

“Let go—” Kieran clawed at Vale’s wrist.

Vale hauled him off the couch, that grip on his neck steering him like a puppet until they reached the basement door. Kieran grabbed the doorframe with both hands, his knuckles white, every ounce of desperate strength focused on not moving forward.

“Last chance to cooperate.”

“F-fuck you—”

Vale drove a fist into Kieran’s stomach.

The air punched out of his lungs in one violent exhalation. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate, stealing his breath, hisvision, his ability to do anything except try to double over around the agony.

Vale’s hand on his neck kept him upright, exactly where he wanted him.

“Be careful.” Vale’s voice stayed perfectly calm, conversational even, while Kieran gasped like a drowning man. “These stairs are old and steep. I wouldn’t want you to break your neck.”

He shoved.

Kieran’s hands lost their grip on the doorframe. His body lurched forward into darkness, feet scrambling for purchase on stairs he couldn’t see, couldn’t anticipate—

His shin cracked against a step. His hip caught the next one. Momentum carried him down, tumbling until he landed hard on the concrete floor halfway down, ass and tailbone taking the brunt of the impact that shot fire up his spine.

He lay there gasping, everything hurting, his throat still working to pull air back into his lungs.