Isolde winced in pain as Malric treated the wound on her forehead. She let out a sigh and set her medical tools aside.
"Are you stupid or what?" she snapped. "You shouldn't have provoked The Boss. He's not someone you can toy with emotionally. He's not your equal, Isolde."
Malric crossed her arms over her chest. "I've read your file. I know who you are and how you ended up here."
Isolde stared at his face, watching her speak. "If you think you're strong enough to go up against The Boss just because you've committed a few petty crimes out there, you're dead wrong. He's not like your brother, the one you threw acid at. And he's not like your friend Kaela, who you manipulated into doing whatever you wanted. If you want to stay alive, you need to understand who you're dealing with and where you stand."
Malric continued, "You couldn't even ruin your brother's face properly. You failed and ended up in prison as a result. And now you think you can take on Severin? There are already rumours about you spreading around this place. Tiffara's been telling everyone about your pathetic little dream of becoming Severin's favourite. They're laughing at you, Isolde. And the moment you step out of this room, they'll tear you apart."
Isolde bit her lip. "I wasn't trying to go against Severin. He insulted me, mocked my body, and said no one would ever pay to sleep with me. And yet he came to me twice."
"So what if The Boss fucked you two nights in a row?" Malric shot back. "You think that makes you special? Because your face looks like Renata's? Or because he happened to visit you twice?"
She scoffed. "Almost every woman in this place has slept with The Boss, not just once. You're not as special as you think you are, Isolde."
Isolde fell silent, watching Malric as she continued speaking. "Get rid of that main character syndrome of yours. Do you think you're in a movie or a book? Do you think it'll be that easy to steal Tiffara's spot? This place isn't like wherever the hell you came from, Isolde. Maybe out there you were the villain, but here, anyone can get you killed over something as petty as breathing the wrong way."
"The one you should fear isn't just The Boss, it's yourself. Your own damn attitude is what's gonna get you killed. And you already provoked the wrong person. Tiffara isn't someone you can mess with, and you've only made The Boss hate you more after what you did yesterday. The only reason you're still alive is because Liraine wants you to be."
Malric's words struck something profound in Isolde. She was right.
She couldn't control her emotions. And now look at her—broken, humiliated, ruined. If only she hadn't talked back to Severin, maybe he wouldn't have thrown her to his men. Perhaps she would've only had to serve him—and no one else. If only she'd kept her mouth shut and ignored Tiffara…
This wasn't the time or place to make enemies. And now she'd made Tiffara—who was already jealous—hate her even more.
"I'm curious," Isolde said suddenly, trying to shift the conversation. "Why is everyone here so loyal to Severin? Is it because they're afraid of ending up like the two men who helped me get in? Afraid of getting killed?"
What was done was done; she couldn't change it. She always regretted the past. No matter what, she never seemed capable of making the kind of choice she wouldn't end up regretting later.
Malric scoffed. "Most of the people here aren't afraid of dying. They're more afraid of being broke. In a world this fucked up, loyalty is everything. These people? Their lives were already destroyed out there. But here, they rebuilt them. Became something again."
"They serve The Boss because he gives them protection and more money than they've ever seen so long as they don't betray him or fuck up."
"They weren't forced to work here like I was?" Isolde asked, curiosity flickering in her voice.
"You're the only one working here by force because you're a prisoner. The rest? They're all here by choice. But once you're in, there's no getting out unless you die." Malric lifted his hair, revealing the back of his neck to Isolde.
"You're not the only one with a chip embedded in your body. Everyone here has one. Including Liraine."
"To stop people from escaping?" Isolde asked.
Malric nodded. "To track and kill traitors who run. Or to rescue those who've been kidnapped. Depends on how you want to look at it."
Isolde's brow furrowed as she stared at the back of Malric's neck. Now she was curious: what kind of life had Malric lived out there? Was her world out there destroyed, too? Is that why he ended up working for Severin? Trading her old life to become a man who dealt with corpses and cleaned up Severin's messes?
As if he could read her thoughts, Malric spoke before she could ask. "I'm a fugitive. Officially, I was accused of malpractice at the hospital where I worked. A lot of lives were lost. But I wasn't the one responsible. It was a new doctor, one whose family had powerful connections. They pinned everything on me, and I ran, of course. The hospital's name was cleared with a small amount of compensation money. But me? I wasn't cleared. I couldn't get work anywhere. The victims' families went after me, stalked me, attacked me. So I joined Severin."
"The money Severin pays me is far more than what I earned at the hospital. And here, I'm free to experiment on the corpses Severin sends to the underground. No one cares what I do to them. I'm free here."
.
.
.
"Are you feeling better? Did Malric treat all your wounds?" Liraine returned with food and sat at the edge of the bed.
"Severin's gone to Mexico. You can relax for the next few days—he won't bother you."
She gently fed Isolde, spoonful by spoonful.
"Tiffara won't be able to lay a hand on you as long as you stay close to me," Liraine said. Isolde straightened her posture, though she immediately winced in pain—her lower body still aching.
"Liraine… can I ask you something?"
"If you're about to ask me to help you escape this place, then forget it," Liraine said flatly. "Nikhael watches my every move."
"It's not that. I know I can't escape from here," Isolde replied. "I want your help with something else. I want you to tell me about your brother."
Liraine's hand froze midair, spoon in hand. Then, she slowly set it down on the plate. Her friendly expression shifted gone in an instant. Her face turned cold, and her gaze pierced straight through Isolde like a blade.
"So you can feed it to Lucien? You're still thinking about your mission with him, even though you know damn well you could die here any day?"
She gripped the plate tightly. "I might care about you, but that doesn't mean I'll betray my brother for you."
"I'm not asking you to betray him."
"Oh, really?" Liraine snapped. "Then what do you call digging for information about him from me? You're trying to figure out his weakness so you can hand it to Lucien!"
"I never said I wanted to know his weakness. I want to know what he likes."
Liraine's brows furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"
"You heard what I said to Tiffara earlier. I want to take her place. I want to bring her down, and for that, I need your help. If I can become your brother's favourite, I'll be farther from death."
Liraine shook her head. "Being Severin's favourite won't save you from death. Maybe you'll get your revenge on Tiffara, but you'll only be walking closer to your grave. Becoming his favourite isn't easy. Tiffara didn't get to where she is by luck. She's fucked more men than you can count—some were allies Severin wanted to use, and others were enemies he wanted to be destroyed. Being the favourite means being the most valuable piece in the game of death, my brother plays. You're not built for that."
She set the plate down beside Isolde. "Tiffara has extracted information for my brother. She's killed for him. You won't be able to replace her."
"There's no harm in trying."
"My brother would never give you a mission. You're a prisoner. In his eyes, you're the enemy."
"Then I'll do it without a mission. Just tell me what your brother likes, what pleases him in bed, so that when he comes back, I won't disappoint him again."
"I don't know anything about Severin's sex life."
"I'm not about to ask Tiffara."
"Then figure it out yourself. When my brother returns, don't provoke him. Obey. Don't speak unless you're told to. Learn what pleases him your own way if he even wants to see you again after Mexico. Because last night, you truly made him furious."
Isolde exhaled slowly, her voice bitter with determination. "I'm sure your brother will come back to me at least once—if only to look at my face that reminds him of his dead lover or to check whether I'm still alive or if I've finally killed myself. But if he doesn't come to me…"
She smirked. "…then I'll go to him. After I finish dancing in front of Tiffara, I'll walk right up to your brother and sit on his lap."
…