Page 6 of Sinful Obsession (Broken Vows #3)

Thiago snapped into a fighting stance. Bruno faltered, fear in his eyes, but he mirrored the posture soon enough. He knew—like I did—refusal meant death.

Bruno lunged first.

Thiago dodged easily, slashing across his chest. Blood sprayed, a crimson arc that stained the iron floor.

I fought the urge to flinch, my jaw clenched, my gaze locked forward.

Every instinct screamed at me to shield my eyes from the carnage—but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Weakness here was a death sentence, and I was already the smallest target in the room.

Bruno faked a charge, but Thiago dodged, his blade slicing toward Bruno’s side. Bruno parried, his knife catching Thiago’s cheek, blood spilling down his jaw like a red tear.

Thiago retaliated, driving his blade into Bruno’s ribs. A scream tore from Bruno’s throat, blood and spittle mixing as he staggered, his face contorted in agony.

They were both groaning now, bleeding, struggling to breathe.

I forced myself to keep watching—even as bile climbed my throat.

With five seconds left, Bruno lunged, aiming for Thiago’s neck in a desperate bid to end it. Thiago blocked with his hand, blood pouring from the wound, and in one swift, brutal motion, drove his knife deep into Bruno’s belly.

One second remained.

Bruno sagged against him, limp. A choking sound left his throat as blood poured from his mouth and belly. Then he dropped, lifeless, hitting the floor with a sickening thud.

Thiago stood, trembling, his hand bleeding, his eyes darting to Cassian in terror, unsure if he’d face further punishment.

The tension in the room was unbearable.

Medical personnel emerged from the shadows, swift and silent, whisking Thiago away to treat his wounds.

I stood frozen, my mind reeling.

A knife duel on the first day? This place was a slaughterhouse.

The thought of facing such a fight made my stomach churn, but I buried it, my expression hard as stone.

Cassian’s voice sliced through the silence. “They died because they jogged instead of ran. In here, hesitation gets you killed. Learn your rules. Or end up like them. Dismissed.”

The candidates dispersed quickly, boots scraping against the floor as we scrambled to leave. I was halfway out when—

“Stay.”

Cassian’s voice.

My legs locked. I turned slowly, masking the jolt of panic that ripped through me.

“Your name?” he asked, still standing at the podium, his gaze boring into me like a blade.

“Charles, sir,” I answered, spine straight, voice calm—even as my palms sweat beneath my sleeves.

He descended the platform, each step echoing like a countdown. When he reached me, I could feel the heat of his body—too close.

He towered over me. His scent—dark, expensive, familiar—wrapped around me like smoke.

“Charles,” he repeated, lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, my tone steady despite the tremor in my core.

“Charles, you realize you’re the smallest and slightest here, don’t you?” he said, his words laced with a dark amusement that felt like a challenge.

“Sir, Dmitri told me,” I said, my voice hardening with resolve, my chin lifting. “But I’m here to prove I can hold my own. I’ll survive this, no matter the odds.”

Dmitri and Misha stood at the altar, watching us, their expressions unreadable, perhaps questioning why Cassian had singled me out.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear, and whispered, “You may deceive others, but not me, Charlotte.”

My heart stopped, the air sucked from my lungs.

He knew—not just my disguise, but my name.

How?

I stayed silent, acutely aware of Dmitri and Misha’s presence, my mind racing to keep my composure. “Elodie is dead because of you,” he whispered, his voice a venomous hiss.

Elodie?

The name was a void, yet it struck like a spark, igniting a fog of memory.

A face, blurred and fleeting, flashes that vanished before I could grasp them.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice steady.

His hand shot out, seizing my throat, and he slammed me against the iron wall with a force that rattled my bones.

He lifted me until my feet dangled, my boots scraping uselessly against the steel.

I gasped, clawing at his hand, my lungs burning as I fought for air.

“Don’t play games with me,” he growled, his frown deepening, his blue eyes blazing with a fury that felt ancient. “You betrayed me, Charlotte. You had her killed.”

“I... I don’t—” I tried to speak, but he squeezed harder.

“Don’t play dumb,” he growled.

My vision started to blur. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but the rage in his voice wasn’t just professional. It was personal.

My strength ebbed fast, hands slapping weakly against his iron grip. Just as darkness crept in, he released me. I collapsed, coughing, clutching my throat, my body trembling as I fought to breathe.

He stood above me, looming like a judgment, his face a mask of ice, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Playing dumb won’t save you,” he said, voice like gravel. “You think coming here makes you untouchable? That I’ll forget what you did?”

His jaw flexed.

“I don’t care what name you go by now, or how innocent you pretend to be. I know what you did. And when I’m done with you... you’ll wish you’d never been born—let alone stepped foot in the House of Devils.”

Then he turned and walked off, leaving me gasping on the cold floor with nothing but a single name echoing in my mind:

Elodie.

I stood frozen, his words slamming into me harder than the wall ever could.

Wait... was he talking about the missing years? From early 2024 to late 2027?

A blank stretch in my memory—total darkness.

Had I done something? Betrayed him? If I made an enemy of Cassian, I might as well start digging my own grave.

Did he think I came here to escape him?

Panic crawled under my skin. What the hell happened in those three years?

What could I have done to turn a man like that into an enemy?

To make him look at me like I was a ghost that murdered someone he loved?

Elodie.

He said I killed her.

Who the hell was Elodie?

The hall was silent now—just me and my fractured thoughts.

I bolted.

The DEN’s concrete corridors blurred around me as I rushed back to my room, adrenaline wearing off. Every inch of me ached, but what scared me most wasn’t the bruises—it was the blankness in my head.

I kicked off my boots, ready to collapse. But as I reached my bunk, I stopped.

The mattress was wet.

I stared, confusion morphing into dread.

“What the hell...” I turned to the newest guy—the one who arrived last and barely spoke. “Did you see who did this?”

He didn’t look up. Just jerked his chin toward the bunks across.

“They did.”

Silas—the chubby brute—and Sebastian, the bastard who broke my nose... and whose jaw I broke in return.

The ones who’d threatened to slit my throat in my sleep.

Now they just smirked, lounging on their beds like they were waiting for a show to start.

“Since we need four to qualify,” Silas said lazily, “we figured we’ll keep you alive.”

Sebastian chimed in, lips curling cruelly. “But don’t get comfortable. We’ll make your life hell... unless, of course...” His eyes drifted downward, pausing suggestively at my waistline.

A pause.

Then, with a grin too wide to be sane:

“Drop your pants. Let’s see what kind of dick you’re packing.”

My heart dropped.

“What?” I snapped, fury rising, masking the cold fear behind it.

He tilted his head mockingly. “Come on, it’s only fair. You want our protection? Prove you’re one of us. Let’s see if it’s even real or just something you stuff down there.”

Silas laughed, “Bet it’s the size of a sewing needle.”

My blood boiled. But beneath the anger was terror.

They were testing me. Pushing to see how far they could go.

If I cracked, they’d pounce.

I stood tall, my jaw set, my eyes burning into theirs. “You think a wet bed will break me?” I said, my voice unyielding. “I’ve faced worse than you, and I’m still standing. Try harder.”

Their smirks faltered for a moment, surprise flickering in their eyes, but I didn’t wait for a response.

I turned to the fourth roommate, his dark eyes still watching, assessing.

He hadn’t spoken beyond answering my question, but his silence felt different—not hostile, but guarded.

If I was to survive Silas and Sebastian, to outlast Cassian’s wrath, I needed him on my side.

In the House of Devils, allies were shields, and I was exposed, caught between my roommates’ cruelty and a boss who knew my name, my past, and a crime I couldn’t remember committing.

The competition had begun, and I was already running out of time.