Standing outside Eliza's cell, Linus watched her in silence. Fear was etched deeply into her face, a sensation that thrilled him. She huddled in the corner of the cell, her hands clasped together as if trying to steady herself against the inevitable. The faint, rhythmic shudder of her shoulders betrayed her efforts to stifle the sobs that occasionally escaped her.
Linus recalled his earlier talk with the Mayor, where he had put on a convincing show, suggesting that the Mayor might be shown some mercy if he admitted everything. However, Linus knew the reality behind those words: the Mayor would have no saving grace. The damage caused by the destroyed mines was severe and had consequences that required serious accountability.
The Mayor's death was not just expected; it was essential for Mara to lessen the blame directed at her. They needed the Mayor to be the one held responsible. Anyone who dared to support him or try to reduce his consequences would face the same downfall.
Linus's thoughts shifted to Eliza, sitting helplessly in her cell. The Mayor's wife—now a widow in waiting—was no longer shielded by her husband's influence. Her isolation was absolute, just as Linus had designed it. He had spoken to her gently at first, planting the seeds of doubt, whispering of the Mayor's inevitable fate. By now, the weight of those truths would be pressing down on her.
Linus felt a surge of satisfaction as he recalled the instructions he had given to Marcus. Every phase had been executed flawlessly.
Marcus had raided the house, targeting the secret compartment Linus had uncovered during his earlier visit. He had also followed Linus's orders to the letter, ensuring that the Mayor and Eliza were placed in separate cells to heighten her sense of isolation and helplessness. But the crowning touch was the conversation Marcus had orchestrated among the guards, their carefully scripted words drifting just within Eliza's earshot. The speculations about the Mayor's and her fate—about the likelihood of her being hanged for the disastrous mine collapse—were a calculated blow. The guards' conversation had driven that message home with unrelenting precision, instilling a deep sense of apprehension in her mind.
Eliza's eyes, filled with anxiety, told Linus everything he needed to know. The groundwork had been laid perfectly.
Eliza's eyes widened as Linus approached. Her lips parted to speak, but Linus raised a finger to his lips, his eyes hard and unyielding. The unspoken command silenced her, deepening the worry already evident in her expression. A twisted sense of satisfaction welled up within him as he watched her submit without a word.
With calm authority, Linus summoned a guard. "Open her cell and remove her cuffs," he ordered, his voice steady and emotionless. The guard complied immediately, the sound of the jangling keys and the groan of the cell door breaking the thick, tense stillness in the dim dungeon.
Eliza flinched slightly as the cold metal cuffs were removed from her wrists, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Linus stepped in closer, leaning near her ear, his voice a low, commanding whisper. "Follow me, and don't speak," he murmured, his tone chilling in its finality. There was no room for hesitation. Eliza, too terrified to resist, nodded weakly and stepped forward, her movement heavy with trepidation.
A roar erupted from the opposite cell, deep and anguished. "Eliza!" It was the Mayor strained against the cuffs binding him to the chair, the chains rattling violently. "What's happening? Where are you taking her?" His voice cracked with rage and panic, reverberating in the narrow dungeon corridor.
Eliza froze mid-step, her head turning toward her husband's voice, her lips trembling as if she might speak. But Linus didn't stop. He strode forward, unrelenting, until the gap between them widened.
"Keep walking," Linus ordered, his tone low and deadly, without patience.
As she stumbled forward, tears welled in her eyes. She cast one last helpless glance over her shoulder. The Mayor's shouts grew louder, tinged with raw desperation.
"Wait! Linus, listen to me! Don't do this! I'm the Mayor! Do you think you can leave me here? You can't just—where are you taking her? Why the hell am I not going?" The chains rattled as he thrashed against them, his fear for himself outweighing all else. "Damn it, you need me! You can't leave me like this!"
They turned a corner, his voice fading, and the dungeon grew heavy with an eerie silence once more. The only sound was the hollow rhythm of their footsteps on the uneven stone floor. Linus remained quiet for a few tense moments, allowing the gravity of the unspoken words to hang in the air, thick with anticipation.
Finally, he glanced sideways at Eliza, his voice dropping to a spine-tingling whisper. "He's a dead man. You know that, don't you?"
Eliza's heart stuttered in her chest. She faltered, her breath hitching in a broken sob, but Linus didn't slow his pace.
"If you don't want his fate, you'll follow quietly," he added, his words pressing against her skin like ice.
She swallowed hard, her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to keep moving, each step feeling heavier than the last. As they stepped out of the dark dungeon into the chilly night, Eliza's heart raced. The waiting carriage loomed in the shadows, its surface glinting in the moonlight. Linus opened the door with careful movements and then extended a hand. His fingers brushed hers as he helped her inside, his grip firm, his touch devoid of warmth.
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Eliza hesitated on the threshold, her heart pounding, but his stern stare left no room for argument. She climbed in with a stiff and uncertain movement. Linus followed, his presence filling the small space as the door closed behind him.
The night outside was pitch black, with only the rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves clattering and the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees. Eliza sat rigidly, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. She couldn't look at Linus, her mind racing about what was coming.
The journey felt endless, each second stretching thin under the suffocating tension. When the carriage finally slowed to a stop, Eliza froze; something was wrong when she saw her house. The guards flanking the entrance were strangers—Mara's soldiers, not the familiar faces of her household staff. Their eyes were cold and unreadable, briefly flicking to Eliza before returning to Linus. They nodded at Linus, allowing the pair to pass without a word. Inside, the house felt hollow. The usual hum of servants bustling about their duties was gone, replaced by an unnatural stillness that pressed on Eliza.
Linus walked ahead, and Eliza trailed behind, her eyes darting to every shadow and corner. The familiar halls seemed foreign, the stillness sharpening her every sense. Her legs grew heavier as they climbed the grand staircase, and her heartbeat quickened as they reached the top of the stairs.
Linus pushed it open at the study door with deliberate calm, the heavy wood creaking ominously. He gestured for Eliza to enter. Her body stiffened with fear as she crossed the threshold into the room.
Linus followed her inside, closing the door behind them with a soft but final click. The sound echoed through the quiet room, sealing them in.
Eliza stood trembling in the center of the study, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. Linus observed her closely, his eyes cold and calculating, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t amusement—it was something darker, something that savored the sight of her unraveling.
He could see the terror etched into every line of her face, the way her shoulders hunched as though bracing for an inevitable blow.
In the quiet that followed, Linus could feel the power of his control over her. He relished the moment, knowing that Eliza was entirely at his mercy. This was the power he craved—the dominance he sought—and he intended to ensure that she understood how far his authority extended.
Linus's eyes lingered on Eliza, thinking how, even in distress, she looked beautiful, an ethereal vision standing in the dimly lit study. She wore a deep emerald green dress that clung to her curves, the fabric shimmering softly in the candlelight. The dress was made of luxurious silk, and its texture was smooth and inviting. The bodice was intricately embroidered with gold threads, drawing attention to her slender waist and the gentle swell of her hips. The neckline dipped just enough to reveal the tantalizing curve of her cleavage, a subtle yet provocative detail that made his breath catch.
He allowed himself to admire the vision before him, knowing fully that she was physically and emotionally trapped within his grasp.
As he stepped closer, the faint scent of her perfume reached him, a delicate blend of jasmine and something deeper, richer, that tugged at his memory. As he lingered, his mind flickered back to the first time he had seen her. It had been at a masquerade party, a night full of laughter, intrigue, and stolen glances. She had worn a form-fitting black gown that had captivated him. Her actions had been graceful, her beauty magnetic, and Linus had felt the spark of desire ignite within him.
Now, standing before her, that same desire pulsed through him—more potent, more urgent. He hadn't expected to have her so soon, but circumstances had played into his hands. Her vulnerability, the fear in her eyes, only seemed to amplify her allure. The combination of beauty and fragility intoxicated him, adding layers to his power over her.
He looked at her face, taking in the tear-streaked cheeks, the trembling lips, the way her eyes darted away from his, only to flicker back in reluctant submission.
"Sorry," Linus said softly, his voice laced with a false note of sympathy.
At his words, Eliza's fragile composure shattered. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and the flood of emotion she had held back broke free. She cried openly, her sobs filling the study, the sound of her despair echoing off the walls.
"I'm sorry you had to go through all this," Linus continued, his tone carefully balanced between feigned concern and the manipulative intent he hid beneath. "I will protect you."
He slowly hugged her as he spoke, his arms wrapping around her as if offering comfort.
Emotionally raw and utterly vulnerable, Eliza clung to him, desperate for solace in a world that had turned against her. Her body trembled as she wept, her need for safety and protection consuming her. Linus could feel her fear, her desperation, with every tear that wracked her frame. He tightened his hug, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted her.
Linus stroked her hair, his touch soothing and possessive. His voice was steady in the turmoil, a low murmur to calm her frayed nerves. "It's okay. I will protect you," he whispered, repeating the promise, a mantra designed to weave a deeper web of dependence around her.
As Eliza pressed against him, seeking solace, Linus couldn't ignore the sensation of her body against his, her softness evident through the fabric of her dress. His thoughts darkened, and his desire intensified. "So soft," he mused, "but tonight, it's going to have to endure much more."
Linus felt the last vestiges of his control slipping away. He repeated again, "I will protect you," his voice low and insistent. Gently tilting Eliza's head, he forced her tear-filled eyes to meet his. Her vulnerability only fueled his desire.
"I will protect you," he whispered again, the words barely audible. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, asserting his claim over her. His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer as he deepened the kiss, the taste of her tears mingling with the intensity of his desire.
He knew today was the day he would finally unravel the tantalizing mystery that her dress had so artfully concealed. His imagination had often danced around the seductive thought of what lay beneath those elegant fabrics, and today, he would be granted the exquisite privilege of unveiling her hidden treasures.
Today, every inch of her would be laid bare before him, a canvas of beauty waiting to be traced by his adoring eyes, kissed by his tender lips and caressed by his hungry fingertips.
The tight dress that had been her armor of allure would soon become a gateway to a realm of passionate secrets. He was ready to claim her, leaving no part of her body uncharted, no corner of her soul unexplored.