HELLBOUND BY HIM

Ivory's POV

The clock ticked relentlessly, pulling me from the depths of a restless slumber. I fumbled to silence the alarm, "Just a few more minutes," I mumbled to myself. I can't help it. Last night had been a nightmare, the shadows of my past still clung to me like a heavy fog.

Memories crept into my dreams, vivid terrorizing and haunting me. I woke up gasping, heart racing, drenched in sweat. I fought to escape the nightmare. Crying, begging. It felt so real. Each moment was a reminder of what I couldn't shake off.

FLASHBACK

My childhood was a nightmare. My father found joy in hurting me. Anything within reach became a weapon in his hands. I'd hear him laugh as if my pain amused him. Every strike was a reminder of his disgust for my very existence. My mother watched from a distance, trapped in fear, knowing that if she stepped in, she'd be next. The fear of his wrath kept her silent.

After each brutal beating, she would come to me, her hands trembling, as she gently dabbed my wounds with hot water and applied ointment, to soothe my wounds.

Each time, I often begged her, "Let's run away. Anywhere but here." Her eyes would flash with anger. "Shut up," she'd snap, Anger flaring in her eyes.

One evening, the familiar dread washed over me as my father, drunk as ever, stormed inside. He burst into my room and yanked me to the living room. I braced for the usual punches, my scream echoing a silent plea for help, but deep down, I knew no one would come.

Then, out of nowhere, my mother yelled, "Kai Anderson, stop! You'll kill her!" I couldn't believe my ears. Even my father paused, shocked by her defiance. But that moment of hope shattered quickly as he resumed his assault.

My mother lunged to pull him away from me, but rage blurred his vision. He turned on her, slamming her head against the wall. Terror seized me, Was he going to kill her?

Then I saw it. A broken bottle on the floor. I grabbed it, ready to defend my mother. Just as I was about to strike, she pushed my father away. The bottle pierced her stomach instead.

Silence fell over the chaos. I froze, heart racing, as my father fled the scene. I rushed to my mom's limp body, panic consuming me. "Please wake up!" I screamed, but the room offered no comfort. No one came to my aid.

End of flashback

That day changed everything. Since then, I haven't heard anything or seen my dad. Now, at 20, I navigate this tough world alone. No family, no friends. Just me. I faced each day with determination, Juggling jobs to survive.

Today felt different. When I remember I had an interview very early at Le Clair de Lune, a fancy restaurant known for its affluent clientele. This could be my big break. I jumped out of bed and rushed to shower. Time was ticking.

After a quick wash, I rifled through my closet for the perfect outfit. What should I wear? I picked an outfit that screamed professionalism. I styled my long, shiny brown hair into a sleek ponytail, applied a hint of lip gloss, and checked myself in the mirror. I looked ready-until my stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten breakfast.

I glanced at the clock. Panic set in as i realized I was late. I slipped into my heels, grabbed my bag and shot one final look at my reflection. No time for breakfast. I bolted out of my room. This opportunity was worth the rush.

I arrived at the restaurant, adrenaline pumping. I jumped out of the cab and rushed to the entrance as I was already running late, only to collide with a solid figure. A man. His face twisted in anger, was on the phone arguing loudly, not noticing me as well.

His phone slipped and hit the ground. I quickly picked it up, scanning for any damage. Just a small scratch, thankfully. I turned to hand it back, "Sorry," I mumbled, extending the phone toward him, but then I noticed his face. His face was grim, with no hint of humor, almost menacing. Cold eyes, tense jaw-he radiated intimidation. I felt a chill run down my spine. This guy looked scarier even than my dad.

Fear gripped me, I fumbled out apologies, my hand outstretched, hoping he'd take the phone, so desperate to escape his intensity . But he just glared at me, still fuming, anger etched on his features.

There was no time to linger. My interview awaited. In a rush, I dropped the phone in his hand, stuttered out another apology, and bolted toward the restaurant. Time was ticking, and I couldn't afford to be more late than I already was.

After the scan, I stepped inside the restaurant and was instantly taken aback. Wow! It was stunning. The decor sparkled; it was the kind of place you dream of working in.

I spotted a female attendant passing by and rushed over. "Excuse me, I'm here for an interview," I said eager yet nervous. She smiled and directed me to the fourth floor. I returned her smile, murmured a thank you, and headed to the elevator.

Once I arrived on the fourth floor, confusion hit me. Which office was it? Just then, a lady left one of the rooms. She seemed like another candidate. I approached her. "Hi, is this the right office for the interview?" She nodded and walked away. I took a deep breath, reminding myself I could do this.

Seconds later, I pushed open the door. A man, probably in his forties sat at a cluttered desk, surrounded by files. I greeted him, trying to catch his attention. He looked up. "How may I help you?"

"I'm Ivory Anderson, here for an interview," I replied confidently.

He raised an eyebrow, "Did you check your watch? You're a bit late." I quickly apologized. He gestured for me to take a seat.

As the interview unfolded, I focused. I answered every question, pushing past my nerves. I wanted this job badly.

When he finished, he leaned back, impressed. "You're quite outspoken! I appreciate your courage."

"Thank you, sir !" I beamed, hope igniting within me.

He assured me they'd be in touch. "Thank you, Miss Ivory," he said as I exited the office, heart racing, but happily optimistic about the outcome.

Tristan pov

Inside Le Clair de Lune,my irritation simmered as I sat alone in the dimly light corner of the restaurant . The soft glow of the chandeliers flickered above , casting shadows on the marble floor . The irritation bubbled up. Ever since I stepped through the door, I noticed the waitresses had been stealing glances my way. Didn't they have better things to do?

They tried to catch my eye, but one look from my cold stare, my face like a stone-sent them scurrying , fear flickered in their eyes. Just what I wanted.

As a mafia leader, and I've been trained to show no mercy, ruthless and cold . I knew how to command respect. I had no room for softness. Emotion? That was a foreign concept, one I had long buried beneath layers of ice .

For me Women? I see them as nothing more than objects for my pleasure, easily discarded when no longer needed . I've never bothered with emotional connections , as they were a distraction I couldn't afford . It's all physical for me. Love held no appeal

I thrive on fear, relished by the sight of my victims trembling in fear and pleading for their lives. Their desperate pleas? The power to determine their fate rested with me, in my hands .They fueled me.

As for women? women were just tools. Tools that could be discarded at will. And there is no doubt about that .

My phone buzzed on the table . It was Elijah, my trusted right hand guy. I answered, irritation boiling over. "What's wrong?"

He replied with grim news. "Petrov's gone . He run off with the money and the drugs ."

Anger surged through me. how dare him just vanish! "Where is he now?" I demanded.

"We can't track his location," Elijah said, his voice steady but unhelpful.

"Are you really this dumb? You couldn't manage such a simple task?" I stood up abruptly, storming out of the restaurant, the phone still pressed to my ear. "Find any of his relatives. How dare he vanish with my money or stash?"

Lost in my call, I bumped into someone. A girl. I glared at her, my face hard as stone and cold. But, something shifted in me, something I wasn't ready to face.

Normally, I would've dragged her to the basement for crossing my path. Instead, I just stood there, dumbfounded. She muttered apologies, handing me my phone, but I didn't react.

I watched as she slipped the phone into my hand and rushed away. As soon as she was gone, clarity returned. I shook off the strange feelings and continued on my path to the basement.

The basement- an underground lair where fear reigned supreme. I stepped into the basement. The air crackled with tension. Fear gripped everyone. It's a rush to see that; it keeps them in line. Everyone scrambled to focus on their own tasks, eyes downcast, avoiding my gaze.

Then, Elijah approached. I couldn't hold back my anger. "How could you let him slip away with the drugs and cash? Have you found any of his relatives?"

"Not yet," he said. "We're on it."

"I'm really disappointed, Elijah."

His eyes dropped. "I'm sorry, Tristan. I promise we'll get him soon."

"That better happen. "I'm letting this slide because it's you. Don't mess up again." I warned , my tone icy .

Elijah, my trusted right-hand man . We are like brothers. We grew up together and now he works for me , understood my zero-tolerance for mistakes.. Every job needs to run smoothly.

He nodded, "Yes, boss," and walked away.

I retreated to my office, sank into my office chair, decided to drown myself in work. But her face kept creeping into my mind. It boiled my blood. I shot up from my seat, Restlessness consumed me as I scanned the room, searching for someone to vent my irritation on. Who could I unleash on? I needed to distract myself.

How could I waste time thinking about a girl?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, I stepped into my quiet home. Silence enveloped me , Just how I like it. My parents and siblings were away, and the maids had retreated to their quarters. They only ventured into the main house for chores , they dare not come without reasons .

I dragged my tired self to my room. Thank goodness, my mom wasn't here. A rare chance to relax. No one was around to nag me about finding a wife, at least for a bit. . My mother didn't seem to grasp that I was a loveless guy. She really knows how to get under my skin.

I unbuttoned my shirt, letting it fall to the floor. My trousers followed suit. A hot shower was next. The steam wrapped around me like a comforting hug. After drying off, I threw on some shorts and planned to dive into work before hitting the bed.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Isaac, my brother. I answered it. "We've arrived safely," he said.

Great , send my regards to everyone, but then I heard my mother's voice cutting through the conversation .

"Is that Tristan? Hand me the phone!"

Once she had it, she wasted no time. "Tristan, I don't want to come home to see that you still haven't brought a girl to show me as your girlfriend."

My irritation flared. Seriously? This again? I sent my regards to others and hung up.

Annoyed, I could still hear her voice echoed in the background, "Tristan, don't you dare hang up on me!" What a whirlwind.

I dropped my phone in frustration. My mom just doesn't get it. Why can't she stop pushing the marriage thing? Every time brings home a potential wife, it drives me nuts. Can't she see I'm not ready for that? Love? Commitment? Not on my radar right now.

I needed a distraction. So, I buried myself in work. It was easier than dealing with her expectations or the unsettling memory of the girl who had dared to cross his path . My tasks absorbed my mind, allowing me to vent my frustration and anger without saying a word.

Ivory's pov

I sat alone in the quiet room, munching on my cereal while a movie played in the background. This has been my routine for two years now. No friends, no family. Just me and the silence. Living alone in this harsh world, I've grown accustomed to the silence.

At first, it was terrifying. Memories of my father's violent outbursts haunted me, his rage echoing in my mind, The fear of him returning to this home never faded. And my mother's death? That still torments me, creeping into my dreams, and turning my nights into restless battles. I would scream and cry for help. But the only response was silence.

A few months ago, I started taking pills. They help me cope with the trauma. They became my refuge, a way to escape those relentless memories. When dark thoughts creep back in, I take the pills. They dulled the pain and soothed my anxious mind until sleep finally came. I've become dependent on them. Without those pills, I doubt I could make it through the day.

Today feels empty. But yesterday, When I recall how my interview at le Clair de Lune went, feeling confident. I nailed every question. A smile crept onto my face at the thought of working there. I hope they call me back. I can't wait to start that new chapter in my life.

I turned my focus back to the movie, letting the scenes pull me in again. Crunching through my cereal loudly. Each bite echoed in the room as the characters unfolded their drama on screen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was deep in my work when a knock broke my concentration. It was Elijah.

"what's wrong, Elijah ?" I asked, barely glancing up from my laptop. He settled into the office chair, a hint of urgency on his face.

"We found Petrov's location," he said.

"Good for you," I replied, still focused on the screen. "Where is he now?"

Elijah leaned in. "He's getting protection from the Russian mafia. That's why tracking him was tough. But we've got a lead on a relative of his."

I looked up, my mood shifting, my irritation rising. The Russian mafia? Even after everything we'd thrown at them, they dared to think they could strike back now. "Make sure you keep tabs on all their movements," I instructed. "I don't want any mistakes this time.

"Got it, boss," he replied, nodding.

I pressed, "Which relative did you find?"

He hesitated. "His wife's already gone. Just a daughter left. We've got info on her." He slid a picture across the desk.

I picked it up, examining the face. Familiar. But where had I seen her? I returned the photo to him.

Elijah continued with updates about the casino, and other operations. Then casually mentioned, "Oh, the Greeks send their regards. They're hoping to arrange a lunch date with you and your girlfriend." he added with a grin.

I shot him a serious look. "You too, Elijah?"

He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself, and left my office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The beep of my phone sliced through my sleepy haze. Groggy, I snatched it up and saw it was an email from le Clair de lune. My heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. Could this be the good news I'd been hoping for?

I opened the email, and there it was-a positive response! Joy bubbled up, and I couldn't help but scream, ecstatic to have landed a job at that fancy restaurant. Finally!

The pay was $10 an hour, stacking up to $50 for a five-hour shift. I couldn't contain my excitement and let out another happy shout. This called for a celebration.

What could I do to celebrate the good news? A trip to the store would be the best, I needed something special. Groceries! I craved a delicious homemade meal tonight. I quickly changed my clothes, my mind racing with ideas for what to cook. Ready to celebrate, I dashed out of the house, buzzing with joy. Off to the store I went!

As I made my way to the store, curious eyes followed me. I recognized that look, though its meaning always eluded me. Was it pity? Maybe they saw my thin frame and thought of hunger and struggle. I am indeed a slender girl-no curves, no shape. I even wonder if my reflection broadcasts my hidden battles.

But today, I chose not to dwell on those gazes. Today was meant to be joyful. I took a deep breath, pushed aside their stares, and kept moving forward. I wouldn't let anyone spoil this moment.

I arrived at the grocery store, ready for my shopping journey. I grabbed a trolley and rolled it through the aisles like a kid in a candy store.

First stop? Ingredients for tonight's special dinner. I carefully picked fresh veggies and spices, and all the right flavors danced in my head. But then something funny happened. I started tossing in items I didn't need. Snacks, gadgets, and a few random picks made their way into my cart.

Why? I had a little daydream about becoming rich soon. The thought fueled my excitement, so I kept adding more.

After an hour, I was finally satisfied with my collection. I steered my trolley to the checkout, ready to pay.

I paid for my groceries, excitement bubbling inside me. Bags in hand, I strolled home. I thought about My plan for tonight. A special dinner followed by a movie night. But which film to pick? The questions spun in my mind.

The street was eerily quiet, almost too quiet. Anyone passing by might have thought I was losing it.

Suddenly, a bus careened toward me, blocking my path. Before I could react, the door swung open and Men in masks came out from the bus. Panic surged through me as they grabbed hold and pulled me inside.

I fought and yelled, desperation clawing at my throat, but they were too strong. A sharp sting in my arm stole my voice, and then? Everything faded to black.