The silver chains bit and burned into his wrists. Theo had lost track of how long he had been bound—minutes, hours, perhaps days—but the pain, sharp and gnawing, had settled deep into his bones, and time had ceased to matter. What mattered was the figure standing in front of him: Lucian, smiling, satisfied, as if all of this were nothing more than a game.

But it wasn’t Lucian’s cruelty that gnawed at Theo's soul the most.

It was Isabell.

She was standing just a few feet away. Her eyes, once filled with light, were now hollow, dulled by Lucian’s command, her body standing rigid in a perfect line, motionless but for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

The power Lucian had over her was suffocating. Theo knew it, could feel it in the air—the invisible leash that kept her bound, kept her from defying him, from running.

Lucian’s voice was almost a whisper as he traced a hand down the side of her cheek, his fingers deceptively gentle. “It’s such a pity, isn’t it, Theo? She could have been so much more. But you know, some creatures… they’re meant to serve. To bend.”

His words were laced with venom, but it was the way he spoke them—soft, mocking, as if enjoying the very idea of her submission—that made Theo’s blood boil beneath his skin.

Theo strained against the chains, the metal digging deeper into his flesh, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his sister. She stood there, unmoving, even as Lucian’s fingers curled around her throat, tightening just enough to make her gasp.

“Lucian,” Theo growled, his voice raw with desperation. “Don’t.”

Lucian only smiled, leaning in to whisper something in Isabell’s ear. She winced, her body trembling ever so slightly.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Lucian cooed, his hand sliding down to Isabell’s arm, fingers gripping her. “She’s been such a good little servant.”

Theo’s jaw clenched, his body tensing against the restraints. “Let her go, Lucian.”

A dark chuckle slipped from Lucian’s lips, and he shook his head slowly. “Oh, Theo… you’re still under the impression that you have any say in this. She belongs to me now.”

Isabell winced as Lucian’s fingers dug into her skin, and Theo could see it—the flash of pain in her eyes, the struggle beneath the surface.

Lucian leaned down, his voice low and mocking. “You see, Theo, she would do anything I ask. Anything at all. Isn’t that right, Isabell?”

Isabell's lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out. Theo could see the agony in her eyes, the way she fought against herself. But Lucian’s grip tightened, and finally, she whispered, “Yes.”

Theo's heart cracked at the sound of her broken voice, the single word that bound her more tightly than any chain.

“You see, Theo,” Lucian mused, stepping behind her, his lips brushing her ear, “there are many ways to break someone. Pain is just one tool. But obedience, real obedience, that takes something more… intimate.”

His hand moved to her waist.

Theo could see the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t—couldn’t—shed them. Her body, so used to the abuse, had become numb to it, her mind unable to fight the commands that kept her under Lucian’s rule.

He was breaking her.

Theo strained again, pulling with everything he had against the chains, but it was futile. The metal held fast, cutting and burning into his wrists as he jerked forward, blood trickling down his arms. The helplessness was suffocating, choking him as he watched the life in his sister slowly crumble.

"Is this what you wanted?” Lucian’s voice taunted, now stepping away from her, letting his grip ease. “To see her like this? To know she’ll never be free?”

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“Lucian, please—”

“Please?” Lucian echoed, his smile widening. “Now that’s more like it. Beg me, Theo. Beg me to spare her.”

Theo’s throat constricted, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. The words stuck in his throat, and he could only watch as Lucian turned back to Isabell, his hand brushing her cheek with a sickening tenderness.

Lucian’s smile was cold, triumphant. “She’s been such a good girl. Always obedient. Always willing.”

And then, with a swift, brutal motion, Lucian’s hand lashed out, striking Isabell across the face. She crumpled to the ground, her body curling in on itself, but no cry escaped her lips. She simply… obeyed. Even in pain, she obeyed.

Theo’s chest heaved, the rage bubbling up inside him, but he was powerless. His strength, his will, it meant nothing here, nothing against Lucian’s domination.

Lucian crouched beside her, his hand gripping her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Tell your brother what it’s like, Isabell,” he whispered, his tone soft but filled with malice. “Tell him how much you enjoy serving me.”

Theo’s entire body went cold as Isabell, through trembling lips, spoke words that weren’t her own. “I… I live to serve you, Master.”

The words hit Theo like a physical blow, more painful than any torture Lucian could have inflicted on him. This was his sister, the one person he had sworn to protect, and now she was nothing more than a puppet.

Lucian stood, leaving Isabell on the ground, broken and bleeding. He walked slowly to Theo, crouching down until they were eye to eye.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To see her safe?” His smile widened, cruel and mocking. “Well, Theo, this is the closest she’ll ever get.”

Theo felt the tears burn in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of Lucian. But the pain was there, raw and aching, cutting deeper with every passing moment.

Lucian’s smile twisted into something darker as he stood back up. The room seemed to contract, suffocating with the weight of anticipation, the sound of Isabell’s ragged breathing the only thing breaking the silence.

“You look like you could use some discipline,” Lucian mused, his voice soft, almost tender. He turned his gaze to Isabell, who still lay on the floor.

“Isabell,” Lucian called, his tone low and commanding. “Get up.”

Her body moved almost mechanically, obeying before her mind could even process the command. She rose to her feet, unsteady, her eyes flickering between Lucian and Theo, still unable to defy her master’s will.

“Lash him,” Lucian ordered, his voice devoid of emotion. “Twenty should do.”

The words cut through the air like a blade, and Theo’s breath caught in his throat. He strained against the chains again, his wrists slick with blood. “No,” he whispered, his voice cracking with desperation. “No, Lucian… don’t.”

Lucian’s eyes stayed on Isabell, the corners of his mouth curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “Go on, pet,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “Show him what you've learned under my care. And when you're finished…” His smile deepened, cold and malicious. “ Well, you know how these little exercises work up my…appetite.” “Don’t keep me waiting.”

What little color was left, drained from Isabell’s face as her trembling hands reached for the whip that Lucian had left on the ground. Her fingers curled around the leather handle.

Theo’s heart shattered as she stepped toward him, the whip in her hands, her entire body shaking with the effort to fight against what she had to do.

She raised the whip, her hand trembling violently. Her gaze met Theo’s for the briefest of moments, her eyes filled with a mix of agony, shame, and the unbearable weight of her own helplessness. Crimson tears welled up in her eyes, but she could not stop herself.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The first lash struck Theo’s back, the pain sharp and immediate, but it wasn’t the physical pain that tore at him. It was the look in her eyes, the way her hands shook, the tears that streamed down her face as she delivered each blow.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice breaking with every lash. “I’m sorry…”

Theo bit back a cry, the agony of each strike burning through him, but he couldn’t bring himself to beg for it to stop. Not when Isabell was the one forced to do it. Not when she was suffering more than he ever could.

Lucian watched, his smile growing with each lash, as if he were savoring the sight of Theo’s torment.

By the time Isabell had finished, her hands hung limply at her sides, the whip dropping to the floor with a soft thud. She stood there, her shoulders hunched, her face wet with tears, unable to even look at him.

Lucian’s laugh echoed through the room, cold and triumphant. “Good girl, Isabell. Now go get cleaned up. I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, he turned and left the room, leaving Theo chained and broken, Isabell’s silent sobs filling the emptiness that remained.

Theo slumped in his chains, his body screaming with pain, but all he could think about was the look in his sister’s eyes—the look of someone who had been shattered beyond repair. And the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Not then. Not now.

Not ever.