Page 12 of Sinful Obsession

Just predatory names.

Ten rooms in total. Four people per den.

Forty mafia heirs thrown into a cage together like dogs bred for war.

As I walked the corridor, the air felt too still.

Surveillance cameras blinked in every corner, their red lights a constant reminder that eyes were always watching.

I passed towering figures—men built like tanks, some already shirtless, tattoos snaking across muscles like war paint, their muscles straining against their clothes, their eyes cold and assessing.

They barely glanced at me, too busy navigating this new hell.

We were all fresh meat.

The corridor stretched ahead.

Above each door, words were scrawled in blood-red lettering. Not numbers, or names.

DEN OF SERPENTS.

DEN OF COBRAS.

DEN OF JACKALS.

DEN OF REAPERS...

Each name reeked of venom, betrayal, and death.

My destination? DEN OF VIPERS. Fitting, I thought grimly.

The black-plated name was bolted to the door like a warning sign.

My fingers trembled as I pushed it open.

Inside was nothing like the gleaming white corridors.

The room swallowed me in black.

Black walls. Black floor. Even the ceiling was a void. Painted like death.

The DEN was a nightmare of design. No privacy. The walls were paper-thin, every whisper and footstep carrying to the next room.

Beds were slabs of cold metal, barely softened by thin mattresses. No curtains. No wardrobes. No drawers. No doors to the bathrooms—hell, there weren’t even proper bathrooms. Everything was open, exposed. This was not a place that believed in comfort.

This wasn’t housing.

This was survival.

Two bunk beds stood against the walls, their metal frames gleaming dully under a flickering overhead light.

The first bunk was already claimed—both top and bottom—bags and scattered clothes marking territory like a silent warning. The second bunk, though untouched, offered options.

I chose the upper bunk. Not because it was safer—there was no such thing here—but because I liked the height. The vantage. Easier to see who was coming. Harder to be caught off guard.

I headed for the top bunk on the right and dropped my bag.

Reaching into my pack, I pulled out a small compact mirror, my hands trembling slightly as I angled it to inspect my nose.