Chapter 73 Pierce

Maya Pierce went home that night in a state of shock, her mind still reeling from the horrors she had witnessed.She barely remembered the journey; the streets, the turns, even her own front door seemed to blur past her in a haze.

When she finally stumbled through her doorway, she felt as though she had just awoken from a fever dream, her body numb, her thoughts muddled.

It was only in the quiet isolation of her room that the night's events began to seep back into her mind, creeping up like shadows and filling her with a sickening dread.

When she awoke the next morning, Maya's first instinct was to believe that everything had been nothing but a horrific nightmare.

Yet, as she lay still, unwilling to open her eyes, the faint echoes of tortured screams and unhinged laughter began to haunt her, each sound sharp and visceral, as if it were happening right there in her room.

She could practically hear the cries of pain, the twisted satisfaction that followed—sounds that seemed to scratch at her soul.

She shuddered, feeling her pulse race, and finally opened her eyes, only to realize that the terror was not a figment of her imagination. Last night had been real.

The torture room. That cursed, wretched place. It had been designed to break the human spirit, and it nearly broke hers.

Little did she know that this place of nightmares was actually a hidden hideout on an abandoned farm, once belonging to the dumb and dead James Sullivan.

Now, with James rotting beneath the earth, his assets should have perished with him—except that Ross had placed a puppet in James's stead, someone who would follow his orders without question.

This allowed Ross full control over everything James had once possessed, including this hellish hideaway where Maya had witnessed so much horror.

But none of this mattered to her right now. The only thing that mattered was the fear that gripped her, paralyzing her every thought and action.

Her hands wouldn't stop trembling, her heart pounding with the certainty that something even worse lay ahead. She could feel it, like the calm before a storm.

And then, as if summoned by her own dread, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was short, brutal, and to the point, and reading it felt like a punch to the gut:

"Dress properly tonight. I'm going to fuck my new bitch."

Maya's stomach lurched, her mind scrambling. She didn't need to see the number to know who it was from. Only one man would send such a message without fear, without hesitation. Ross Oakley.

The very name sent a chill through her, leaving her feeling like prey under the gaze of a predator.

For a split second, Maya considered running. Maybe she could escape, hide somewhere far away where Ross could never find her. But the thought dissolved as quickly as it came.

If Ross had the power to capture Don Garcia, a notorious criminal with an empire of his own, what chance did she stand? What could she possibly do against someone who had such terrifying reach?

Her chest tightened as despair settled in, but Maya forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath.

No matter how scared she was, she had only two options: run and be hunted down, or stand her ground, no matter what fate awaited her.

She chose the latter, clinging to a shred of resolve amidst the waves of fear. Whatever lay ahead, she decided, she would face it head-on—even if it meant confronting her darkest fears.

Maya stayed in her condo and followed the instructions she had been given. Her body moved on autopilot, her mind unable to break free from the weight of fear and disgust that had settled over her.

She ran a hot bath, sinking into the steaming water and letting it envelop her trembling frame. For an hour, she scrubbed at her skin as though trying to erase the memories of the night before.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't rid herself of the lingering sensations—the screams echoing in her ears, the smell of blood that seemed to cling to her, and the haunting look of agony on the faces she had seen.

When the water grew cold, Maya dragged herself out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. Her movements were sluggish, as though her limbs were weighed down by the sheer effort of existing.

She padded over to her closet and hesitated for several moments before selecting the dress. It was a black mini dress, short and tight, showcasing every curve of her body with unapologetic boldness.

It wasn't something she would have worn willingly, not under these circumstances, but she had no choice.

Standing before the mirror, she stared at her reflection. The dress was seductive, daring, and utterly inappropriate for the way she felt inside. She hardly recognized herself.

Her pale face, hollow eyes, and trembling lips betrayed the inner turmoil she was desperately trying to mask. But this wasn't about what she wanted. It was about doing what was right.

She did not want any collateral damage to happen or other people to suffer because of her.

She ate sparingly, each bite of food tasting like ash in her mouth. Her stomach twisted violently, bile rising in her throat every time she remembered the horrors of the previous night.

The images replayed over and over in her mind, making her feel nauseous and faint. Time became meaningless as she sat in her condo, waiting for the inevitable knock on the door.

Minutes felt like hours, and hours like days, as the oppressive silence pressed down on her.

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At exactly 7:00 p.m., the doorbell rang, cutting through the suffocating tension. The sound was sharp and jarring, making her jump.

Her heart began to race, hammering against her ribcage as though trying to escape. She stood up on unsteady legs, her palms clammy and cold.

For several minutes, she couldn't bring herself to move. She stared at the door, the weight of dread pressing down on her shoulders.

Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, to hide, to do anything but answer it. But she knew there was no escape. There never had been.

With a deep, shaky breath, she forced herself to approach the door and unlock it. When she opened it, she was greeted by a face she didn't expect.

"Peter? What are you doing here?" Maya's voice trembled as she stared at the tall, handsome man standing in her doorway.

His presence was so unexpected that, for a moment, she wondered if she was hallucinating.

***

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