Tied In Silence

He was done being patient.
Done waiting.
Done thinking.

All that was left was blood.

Victor stormed toward the fifth floor like a demon unleashed, his rage blinding and feral. Every man who dared to step in his path fell without a second thought. Bullets. Blades. Bare hands. It didn’t matter.

He wasn’t human right now.
He was fury. He was vengeance.
He was a husband looking for his wife.

And he would burn the world to see her face again.

His heart beat in sync with the echo of gunfire.
Her face. Her voice. Her scent.
He needed her in his arms. Needed to know she was alive. Needed to feel her breathe.

He kicked open a room on the fifth floor. The stench of blood hit him like a punch. Thick. Metallic. Fresh.

His pulse spiked.

What if—

No.
His jaw clenched, hard enough to crack bone.

She’s not here.

But someone was.

A man stood in the corner, trembling, as if he knew his death had arrived. Victor’s eyes narrowed. And then—he saw it. A small iron gate, half-concealed behind broken crates.

Without hesitation, he yanked it open.

“Here you are, you bastard!” Victor roared, his voice shaking the room.

He launched forward, fists landing like thunder.

One.
Two.
Three.

He didn’t stop.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t care.

The man’s face was unrecognizable, smashed beyond human.

Victor kept hitting. Blood soaked his knuckles, but it wasn’t enough.
Nothing was enough.
Not until he had her.

Breathing heavily, he finally gripped the man’s collar, yanking him up as if he weighed nothing.

“I will ask only once,” Victor said, voice calm, cold, death itself.
“Where. Is. My. Wife?”

The man sobbed, blood dripping down his face. “M-My father ordered it. I just obeyed. Please—please don’t kill me—”

Victor inhaled slowly.

“Wrong answer.”

Bang.
Bang.

Both his legs shattered with two clean shots. The man screamed, crumpling, convulsing in pain.

Victor crouched beside him, eyes void of mercy.
“I’m not killing you,” he whispered. “Not yet. You’ll be screaming for death by the time I’m done in my basement.”

He stood and grabbed his phone.
“Fifth floor. Now.”
His guard knew what that tone meant. No delays. No mistakes.

Victor’s patience was rotting—just like the soul of every man who dared to touch what was his.

-----------

Adrian’s fingers flew over the keyboard, sweat glistening on his forehead. “C’mon, c’mon—”

The screens blinked. One by one, security feeds filled them.

“Got it,” he breathed.

Basement camera.

A blurry image.
A girl.
Still. Tied.

Adrian’s heart dropped.

He snatched his phone.

“Victor—she’s not on the fifth floor. She’s in the basement.”