Chapter 13: The Price of Silence

The hospital corridor was in chaos.

Five families, once wealthy and powerful, had been reduced to desperate souls.

The moment the boys were admitted anonymously, their parents had been alerted.

And now—

They stormed into the hospital like madmen, their faces pale with fear and rage.

They pushed past doctors, nurses, demanding to see their sons.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared them for what they saw.

Inside the hospital room, their sons lay in different beds, each wrapped in bandages, each scarred for life.

One was missing a leg.

Another’s fingers were gone, wrapped in thick, bloodstained gauze.

One had crushed bones, his body restrained with plaster and stitches.

Another had deep scars slashed across his face, permanently disfigured.

And the last—his nails had been ripped off, his hands trembling even in his sleep.

The parents froze.

Their breaths hitched.

For the first time in their entire lives, they felt something they had never truly experienced.

Fear.

Their blood ran cold as they looked at the remnants of what were once their proud, arrogant sons.

Their voices trembled with rage and disbelief.

“Who did this to you?!”

They grabbed their sons, shaking them desperately.

“Tell us! We will kill them! We will make them suffer!”

The boys stayed silent.

Their eyes were empty, lifeless—they were no longer the arrogant brats they had been before.

And their silence was deafening.

The parents turned to the doctors, demanding answers, but none of the staff knew who had brought the boys in.

They had simply appeared, dropped off at the hospital without a trace of their captor.

And then—

The police arrived.

The officers barged in, their boots heavy against the tiled floor.

A senior officer, a man in his late forties, stepped forward, his sharp gaze scanning the boys.

“We need answers.”

His voice was firm, his patience thin.

“Who did this to you?”

Silence.

“Where were you taken?”

Silence.

“Who is behind this?”

Still, silence.

The parents lost their composure.

“Why aren’t you speaking?!” one of the fathers roared.

“You expect us to sit back and do nothing?!” another mother screamed, her hands gripping her son’s bandaged arms.

But the boys simply stared ahead, their lips pressed tightly shut.

Their eyes darted nervously—as if even the mere mention of her name would bring her back.

The police officer’s jaw clenched.

“Enough of this nonsense.”

His anger was boiling now.

“We can’t do anything if they won’t talk,” he snapped at the parents.

“You want justice? Then tell your sons to open their damn mouths!”

He slammed his notebook shut and turned to leave.

His colleagues followed, their footsteps heavy with frustration.

“We’ll come back.”

And then they were gone.

The parents chased after the officers, their voices desperate.

“Wait! You can’t just leave! You need to investigate!”

But the senior officer whirled around, his patience snapping.

“Investigate what?!” he barked.

“Your sons won’t say a damn word. How the hell do you expect us to find anything?!”

The parents fell silent.

Their hands trembled.

Their rage was quickly turning into helplessness.

And the officer knew it.

“If they ever decide to talk,” he said coldly, “we’ll listen.”

And with that, the police were gone.

The parents stormed back into the hospital room, their frustration boiling over.

They grabbed their sons, their voices sharp with desperation.

“Tell us what happened!”

“Who did this to you?!”

“We will protect you!”

But the boys simply shook their heads, their bodies trembling.

“You don’t understand,” one of them finally whispered.

His parents froze.

“She is not someone you can fight,” another boy murmured.

His lips quivered, his face pale.

“You can’t do anything to her.”

The parents stared.

They didn’t understand.

Who was this ‘she’?

Who had shattered their sons so badly that they wouldn’t even seek revenge?

One of the fathers clenched his fists.

“Then we leave,” he declared. “We get out of this city, right now.”

For a moment, it looked like the boys might agree.

They had seen hell itself—leaving would be the safest option.

But then—

One of them lifted his head, his eyes hollow.

“No,” he whispered.

The parents froze.

“What?”

“We will stay,” another boy murmured.

“We have learned.”

Their voices were low, monotone, obedient.

Their parents couldn’t believe it.

Their once spoiled, arrogant sons—who had tormented the weak, who had feared no one—

Had now been reduced to obedient dogs.

They weren’t just traumatized.

They had been tamed.

They were good boys now.

And good boys do not disobey.

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