CHAPTER:-6

The red light in the room, harsh and unforgiving, pulled Elena back to consciousness. Her body ached, a dull, throbbing pain that spoke of days of cruel treatment. Her cheeks stung, a fresh reminder of the rough touch that had awakened her. Dante stood over her, his face a mask of cold amusement, his eyes gleaming with a dark, predatory light.

"Time's up, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice a low, menacing purr. "It's time to play."

A wave of fear washed over Elena, but beneath it, a more urgent, desperate need surfaced. Two days of starvation, coupled with the brutal torture, had reduced her to a fragile, broken thing. Her stomach gnawed at her insides, a constant, agonizing reminder of her emptiness.

"I... I'm hungry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please... give me something to eat."

The words, a plea for basic sustenance, were a stark contrast to the strength she once possessed. But her pride had long since crumbled under the weight of her suffering.

I can't believe I'm begging, she thought, a wave of shame washing over her. I've been reduced to this.

"Please, Dante," she begged, tears welling up in her eyes. "Just a little food. Even a grape. Please."

She felt utterly humiliated, reduced to pleading with the very man who was inflicting her pain. Tears streamed down her face, a testament to her desperation and the crushing weight of her helplessness.

This hunger is unbearable, she thought, her mind clouded with pain. It's like a beast inside me, tearing me apart.

Dante's lips curled into a cruel smirk. He watched her with a detached amusement, relishing her suffering. He saw her as the woman who had taken his brother's life, and he found a twisted satisfaction in her degradation.

"Nothing in this world comes for free," he said, his voice laced with malice. "Earn your food."

He enjoys this, Elena thought, a flicker of anger mixing with her fear. He wants to break me, to strip me of everything.

She felt a surge of defiance, a refusal to let him completely destroy her.

I won't give him the satisfaction, she thought, even as her body trembled with weakness. I won't let him see me completely broken.

Dante, convinced he was enacting justice, remained blind to the full truth. He clung to the idealized memory of his brother, refusing to acknowledge the possibility of his flaws. His hatred for Elena had become an all-consuming force, blinding him to reason and compassion.

He's so consumed by grief and anger, Elena thought, her heart aching for the man he once was. He can't see the truth, even if it's staring him in the face.

She knew that his perception of her was distorted by his pain, and that he was trapped in a cycle of vengeance. She felt a strange mix of pity and loathing for him.

He's as much a prisoner as I am, she thought, her mind drifting. A prisoner of his own hatred.

Despite her physical weakness, a flicker of resolve remained. She would endure, she would survive, even if it was just to spite him. She would not let him extinguish the last spark of her spirit.

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