Page 14 of Violent Love: Viktor

He didn’t need to hit me or even shout. He simply showed me who he was.

A fucking monster.

“Good, bitch,” Viktor said, voice tinged with amusement.

I flinched.

But somehow, it was better than the voice he used in the operating room—cold, surgical, inhuman. He was enjoying this—my fear, my surrender, just like he’d enjoyed mutilating a man piece by piece, like it was performance art.

Something dropped beside his feet. My blurred vision took a moment to make sense of it. Then I saw the long, dark leash coiled against the floor.

I looked up at him slowly—dread blooming in my chest. The urge to beg swelled in my throat, but I knew better.

Begging had only made him rougher before.

He dangled the dark brown leather collar from his fingers. Small golden flowers dotted the collar, and a round, polished gold tag was at its centre.

One word engraved in elegant script:Suka.

I froze.

He crouched beside me. My body screamed to recoil, but I stayed still. Not from obedience—just… pure shock.

He slid the collar around my neck, slipping it beneath my wet hair, his fingers grazing the nape of my neck like he had a right to touch me. The leather was soft, cool against my clammy skin. His hand brushed against the snake tattoo coiled over his own, the eyes seeming to watch me even as he buckled it tight.

I couldn’t breathe.

Then his fingers lifted my chin.

“Feel that,Suka?” he murmured, voice low and final.“That’s your last breath as a free woman. This is your new life now.”

His eyes were nearly black. Bottomless. And I saw it there—the promise. He would strip every shred of humanity from me. Piece by piece. Until nothing was left.

A sob caught in my throat.“Please—”

The word came out strangled, breaking into a choked whimper as my eyes squeezed shut. I didn’t want him to see. Not my weakness. Not my tears.

But he did see.

And he liked it.

I saw it in the glimmer of cruel satisfaction on his face just before my eyes closed.

He stood. The leash tugged—the collar bit into my neck.

I scrambled forward, compelled by pain and pressure. I didn’t look around. Didn’t lift my head. I crawled behind him, shame painting my cheeks in searing heat.

He opened a door.

Another cell.

But this one…it was different. There was a barred window. A bed. No rotting stench—just faint bleach and silence.

“Is my pet hungry?” he asked, yanking the leash until I stumbled forward.

He sat on the bed, pulling me toward him like an obedient animal.

“Yes,” I whispered, barely able to get the word out.