Page 10 of Trained In Sin

I break the middle finger next, then the index. Marcus is sobbing now, his body shaking with shock and agony. But in my mind, it's Damon Phillips crying, Damon Phillips paying for having what should be mine .

"She looks at you like you're safe," I say, reaching for the knife. "Like you're the answer to all her problems. But what happens when she realises how weak you really are? How easily you break?"

The blade is sharp, designed for precision rather than brutality. I make shallow cuts along the joints of his fingers, each one deliberate and measured. The blood flows steadily, and I wipe it away after each incision, maintaining my rhythm.

"She deserves better than mediocrity," I murmur, making another cut. "She deserves someone who understands power. Someone who can protect her from the world." I pause, studying Damons agonised face. "Someone like me."

The control I exercise here, in this moment, is absolute.

Marcus's pain, his fear, his very breath, all of it exists at my discretion.

This is what real power looks like. Not Damon's safe little IT job or his comfortable suburban aspirations.

Not Dawson's crude thuggery and blunt force tactics.

True power is surgical, precise, inescapable.

Marcus tries to speak, but only whimpers emerge.

Good. Words are overrated anyway. Actions matter.

Consequences matter. The lesson being taught here will resonate far beyond this basement, far beyond tonight.

Marcus will remember this for the rest of his life.

He'll remember who truly holds power, who deserves respect, who should never be crossed.

I raise the knife again, preparing to work on his other arm, when the door opens behind me.

"Seb." Matthew's voice cuts through my focus like a splash of cold water. Damon is gone. Marcus stares at the floor, tears mixing with the sweat that forms on his face .

I turn, the knife still in my hand. Matthew takes in the scene, Marcus bound and bleeding, the tools, the bloodied cloth, he frowns. I don’t know why, he's seen worse.

"What is it?" I ask, irritated by the interruption.

"Wilson's here. Says it's urgent. Something about the planning meeting being moved up."

I look back at Marcus, who's staring at me with terror filled eyes.

The spell fully breaks, and I see him clearly again, just a frightened man who made a very poor choice.

The transition back to reality is jarring, like surfacing from deep water.

For a moment, I'd lost myself completely in the fantasy of punishing the man who dares to touch what's mine.

But Marcus isn't Damon. And this basement isn't Saphy's flat. This is business, not personal, no matter how much the two have become entangled in my mind.

"You're lucky, Marcus," I say, taking a deep breath and setting the knife aside. "It seems I have more pressing business to attend to."

The irony isn't lost on me. Here I am, teaching Marcus about the consequences of divided loyalty, while my own focus has been compromised by an obsession with a woman who wants nothing to do with me. The realisation should disturb me more than it does.

I untie his ankles first, then cut the zip ties binding his wrists. His mangled hands hang uselessly at his sides.

"Here's what's going to happen," I tell him as he struggles to stand on unsteady legs. "You're going to continue working for Dawson. But from now on, you also work for me. You feed him information I want him to have. You report back everything he tells you. Do you understand?"

Marcus nods frantically.

"And Marcus?" I step closer, close enough that he can smell the blood on my clothes. "If you ever betray me again, if you even think about running to the police or anyone else, I will kill you.”

"I understand," he whispers.

"Good." I move to the sink in the corner, washing the blood from my hands with practiced efficiency. "Matthew will take you to a private clinic. Get those fingers looked at. Tell them it was an accident. A machinery malfunction or something.”

Matthew steps forward, supporting Marcus as he stumbles toward the door.

“Wait,” I dry my hands methodically, and walk over to them.

Opening my wallet, I take two ￡50 notes out and tuck them into Marcus pockets.

“For your time tonight.” Marcus looks up at me, confusion on his pale face.

“Oh, and your father's care home fees, I'll cover them.

Consider it a signing bonus for your new position. "

The confusion in his eyes almost makes me smile.

Even in pain, even terrified, he can't understand how I can hurt him and help him in the same breath.

It's a lesson everyone learns eventually: I am capable of both extreme cruelty and unexpected generosity.

The key is never knowing which you'll receive.

After they leave, I stand alone in the basement, looking at the blood on the concrete floor.

The release I'd sought, the outlet for my frustration over Saphy, over Damon, over my own inability to simply take what I want, feels incomplete.

Marcus's pain had helped for a moment, channelling my rage into something productive, but the underlying tension remains.

The truth is, I'm not myself when it comes to Saphire Jenkins.

For the first time in my adult life, I want something I can't simply acquire through force, money, or intimidation.

She represents a challenge I'm not equipped to handle, and that realisation is more disturbing than any physical threat I've ever faced. She’s just an ordinary woman, with an ordinary job, in an ordinary home.

Nothing about her should stand out of a crowd. So why is she all that I can see?

With business rivals, political contacts, even the police, I know exactly how much pressure to apply and where to apply it. But Saphy operates in a world where those rules don't apply.

It's maddening. And fascinating. And completely fucking dangerous to everything I've built.

I gather the bloodied tools, cleaning each one meticulously before returning them to their designated places.

I open the mirrored cupboard, and grab a comb, meticulously fixing my hair.

Appearances always matter. Order restored, I head upstairs to meet with Wilson, to discuss business that will ultimately bring me closer to Saphy's world.

The riverside development project isn't just about money anymore, though the profits will be substantial.

It's about positioning myself in her professional sphere, finding legitimate reasons to interact with her, building a foundation for something that goes beyond these crude games of pursuit and rejection.

Marcus will feed information to Dawson, but he'll also be my eyes and ears in the man's organization .

Marcus had been a message, to myself as much as to him. That betrayal has consequences. That I don't forgive easily. That when someone takes what belongs to me, there's always a price to pay.

Saphy doesn't know it yet, but she belongs to me now. And soon, she'll understand exactly what that means.