Bound To The Devil

Mikhail's POV

Mikhail leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of whiskey, eyes dark with irritation.

He was done waiting.

Sebastian's interference had ruined his plans. First, he had Luca and Valarie cornered, and then that bastard had slaughtered his men like they were nothing.

And now, because of some obsessive infatuation, Sebastian had warned him to keep Valarie unharmed.

Mikhail's lips curled into a cruel smirk.

Like hell he would.

He turned his attention to the bloodied figure in the corner of the dimly lit room.

Elijah Carter.

Valarie's lover.

He was barely conscious, hanging limply from the chains binding his wrists to the ceiling. His shirt was shredded, revealing bruised and slashed skin, a map of pain drawn onto his body.

Mikhail sighed dramatically. "You've held up well, Carter. Most men would have broken by now."

Elijah laughed hoarsely, blood dripping from his split lip. "Go to hell."

Mikhail grinned. "Not before I take you with me."

He pulled out his knife, its blade gleaming under the dim light. Without hesitation, he plunged it into Elijah's side.

Elijah gritted his teeth, a sharp gasp of pain leaving him.

Mikhail watched, thrilled at the way he twitched in agony.

"You know," Mikhail murmured, twisting the knife slowly, "you're actually quite useful to me. Even more than I expected."

Elijah spat blood at him. "Fuck you."

Mikhail wiped his face, amused. "Tsk. Such a dirty mouth." He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. "Let's see how Valarie feels when she watches you scream."

Elijah's eyes widened.

Mikhail stepped back, gesturing to the man holding the camera. "Send it."

The man nodded, hitting send.

A torture video of Elijah, bound, bloodied, and screaming, was now making its way to Valarie Ivanov.

Mikhail smirked.

He could already imagine the rage, the horror, that would fill her when she saw it.

She'd come running.

Right into his trap.

And then, after her... Luca.

And finally...

Damien Volkov.

Mikhail threw his head back and laughed.

**
Valarie's POV

Her hands were shaking.

The video played on repeat, Elijah's screams echoing in her ears.

Blood. Chains. His body writhing in agony. The way he tried to stay strong, but his pain cracked through his voice.

Her chest burned.

Mikhail.

That bastard.

Valarie exhaled sharply, pressing her thumb and index finger against the bridge of her nose.

She knew it was a trap.

Of course, it was.

Mikhail wanted her to come running, to walk straight into his hands, and yet...