Chapter 6

Cade POV:

They dragged her out, her small, frail body limp against the burly orderlies. Her eyes were wide, staring at me with a chilling emptiness. I watched as she was taken, the sight twisting a knot in my stomach that I couldn't name. It wasn't pity, not exactly. It was more like a perverse sense of ownership mixed with a searing guilt.

The air in the private wing of my house, where I'd ordered her confined, was heavy and cold. The scent of disinfectant mingled with something coppery, metallic. Blood. Her blood. My blood. The walls felt like they were closing in.

"Cade, what are you doing?" she rasped, her voice weak but laced with defiance. She struggled against the men, her slender wrists leaving red welts against their grips. "You can't do this! You can't just imprison me!"

I stepped closer, my face inches from hers. My own pain, my own regret, manifested as a cruel, cold anger. "You should have known your place, Blaire," I snarled, my voice low and menacing. "You should have stayed quiet. You should have accepted your fate." I watched her face, searching for a flicker of fear, a sign of her breaking. But she only stared back, her eyes burning with an unsettling resolve.

"My place?" she scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "My place was to be your lover, your confidante, your support. My place was to be the mother of your child. But you threw it all away for status. For a name that isn't even truly yours!"

Her words, aimed like venomous darts, struck a nerve. The truth of my illegitimacy, the Dyers' conditional acceptance, festered within me. My hand shot out, slapping her hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the cold corridor. Her head snapped back, a thin trickle of blood appearing at the corner of her mouth.

"You will regret that, Cade," she whispered, her voice surprisingly steady, her eyes still fixed on mine. "You will regret every single moment of this."

I scoffed, my heart a block of ice. "Take her to the cellar," I commanded the guards, my voice devoid of emotion. "Keep her in the old storeroom. And make sure she can' t leave."

They led her down, the sound of her dragging feet fading into the oppressive silence. I followed, a chilling curiosity driving me. The storeroom was dank, cold, and dimly lit, its stone walls slick with moisture. A faint, repulsive smell – something metallic mixed with earth – clung to the air. It was a place where things were forgotten.

She stumbled as they pushed her inside. My eyes scanned the shadows, and a knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach. Spiders, their webs shimmering like ghostly lace, clung to the corners. And then I saw them: the rats. Small, beady eyes glinting in the gloom, their whiskers twitching.

Blaire froze. I watched her, a sudden, vivid memory flashing through my mind. Years ago, a small field mouse had scurried across our apartment floor. She' d shrieked, jumping onto a chair, her face contorted in a comical mask of terror. "I hate rats, Cade! They're so gross and creepy!" she'd cried, burying her face in my shoulder. I' d laughed then, comforting her, promising to protect her from every fear.

"I'll always protect you, Blaire," I' d whispered, holding her close beneath the starry night sky. "From every shadow, every fear. You'll never be alone." The words, once spoken with genuine affection, now tasted like bile.

The contrast between then and now was a gaping chasm, a stark reminder of the man I had been, and the monster I had become. The Blaire of that memory, so innocent and trusting, was gone. Replaced by a woman whose eyes held a terrifying emptiness, a cold resolve that mirrored my own. I had destroyed her. And in doing so, I had destroyed myself.

"You're a truly evil man, Cade," she said, her voice cutting through my thoughts, devoid of all emotion. "To use my deepest fear against me... you truly are a coward."

The rats, emboldened by the stillness, began to emerge from the shadows, their tiny feet scuttling across the damp floor. Blaire's breath hitched. She took a step back, then another, until her back hit the cold stone wall. Her eyes were wide, dilated with terror. One of the larger rats scurried closer, its nose twitching.

She screamed, a raw, primal sound that tore through the silence. She stumbled, falling to the floor, her hands outstretched defensively. The rats, sensing her distress, swarmed. They crawled over her legs, her arms, their tiny, sharp claws scratching at her skin. She thrashed, a guttural cry escaping her lips, her body convulsing with fear and revulsion.

"Get them off me! Get them off!" she shrieked, tears streaming down her face, mingling with the blood from the cut on her forehead. The pain, the terror, the sheer violation, was overwhelming. I watched, my heart a cold stone in my chest, a perverse satisfaction mixing with a chilling fear. This was my doing. All of it.

Her struggles grew weaker. Her screams dissolved into ragged gasps. Her eyes fluttered, her body going limp as consciousness threatened to abandon her again. The cut on her head, reopened by her thrashing, bled freely, painting a dark streak across her pale skin. Her breath came in shallow, ragged bursts.

A sharp, stabbing pain erupted in my chest, a familiar pressure that signaled an impending heart attack. My congenital condition. Was this fate's ironic punishment? My heart, the very thing I used to garner sympathy, now betrayed me in this moment of pure, unadulterated cruelty.

I staggered back, clutching my chest, the pain a searing agony. But even through the haze of my own suffering, I couldn't tear my eyes away from Blaire. Her body was still, her eyes closed, her breathing almost imperceptible. She was dying. And I was letting it happen.

The door burst open. It was Alessandra, her face a mask of feigned concern. "Cade, darling, what's happening?" she said, her eyes quickly darting to the unconscious form of Blaire on the floor, surrounded by the scurrying rats. A triumphant smirk, quickly masked, flickered across her lips.

"She's fine," I gasped, clutching my chest, the pain intensifying. "Just... being dramatic." My voice was strained, my body trembling.

"Dramatic?" Alessandra scoffed, her gaze fixed on Blaire. "She looks rather pathetic if you ask me. I guess some people just can't handle a little... setback." She walked closer to the edge of the storeroom, her eyes gleaming. "Perhaps a night down here will teach her a lesson in humility."

"No!" The word tore from my throat, raw and desperate. "Get her out of here! Now!" The pain in my chest was unbearable, blinding. I couldn't let Blaire die here. Not like this. Not our baby.

Alessandra looked at me, a cold amusement in her eyes. "Oh? Are you finally regretting your decision, Cade? Thinking about your precious Blaire now?" She laughed, a chilling, mirthless sound. "How very sentimental. I thought you said she was a 'disposable stepping stone'?"

Her words, so casually cruel, were a direct echo of my own. My own words, thrown back at me, twisting the knife in my heart. The irony was a bitter, choking taste in my mouth. I had condemned Blaire, and now, karma was collecting its due.

"Just... get her out," I gasped, collapsing against the damp wall, the world spinning. My last coherent thought was of Blaire, lying lifeless amidst the shadows, and the crushing weight of my irreversible mistakes.