Chapter 6 Intense

Liyana's POV

The woman didn’t even stop to check if I was still following willingly—which, for the record, I wasn’t, I was just… being dragged with dignity.

“Okay—seriously,” I tried again, half jogging to keep up. “Where are we going? Because if this is where I die, I’d like a heads-up.”

She just laughed softly and pushed open a door at the extreme end of the hallway.

And then she playfully pulled me inside,like we were about to play hide and seek.

I stumbled a step forward and—“…what the hell is this?”

The room was a weird place.Not exactly creepy.But definitely not… normal.

The lighting was dim.Soft.Almost golden.The kind that made everything look… intentionally intimate.

The walls were darker than the rest of the penthouse—matte, almost charcoal—and lined with things I couldn’t immediately make sense of.Metal fixtures. Hooks. Bars.

There was a large bed in the center.But not like the one in a normal bedroom.This one was lower, wider… structured differently.

My eyes moved around slowly.There were shelves that looked too organized.Were those straps?Yeah,leather ones.Different sizes.Different shapes.

“…okay,” I whispered. “That’s… interesting.”

There were chains—light ones, not heavy like in movies—but still very much ‘chains’ that hung neatly on one side.There was even—Was that a swing?

I blinked hard.“What—” I walked a little closer, squinting at it. “Is this some kind of… fancy gym equipment?” The woman said something behind me—definitely amused—but I didn’t get a single word.

But by now I was curious.Very curious.

I reached out, poking one of the leather straps.“…hhmm.” It was softer than I expected.I pulled it lightly.It moved.“Oh!” I said, a little surprised. “Okay, so it’s not decorative.”

I moved to the next thing.A metal bar attached to the wall.I tapped it.“Right,” I nodded to myself like Newton discovering gravity. “Very… industrial chic.”

The woman laughed again behind me.

“Do you know how to use this stuff?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.She said something in Russian.

“Yeah, still not helping much,” I muttered. I turned back, wandering further into the room like a kid in a museum.There was a drawer.

I opened it.Jaw dropped.Then slowly closed it again.

“…I’m not even going to ask.” My cheeks felt a little warm now.Was Uncle Mat a clinical psychopath?The drawers were filled with what looked like torture devices. “This is definitely not a gym,” I concluded under my breath.

I walked back towards the center, looking around again.More carefully this time.

The woman was smiling the whole time. “Okay, you’re enjoying this way too much,” I muttered, glancing at her.She said something in Russian again, gesturing towards one of the walls.

“Yeah, yeah,” I nodded. “Very informative.Thank you.”

“Okay, now this,” My gaze wondered,stopping near a set of chains attached neatly to the wall she was pointing at.

I said, turning to her with a grin, “this is where I draw the line. What is this—some kind of medieval décor choice?”

She tilted her head, watching me.I reached out, tugging one of the chains harder this time.It clinked softly. “I wonder if they even have any practical use,” I added, amused.

She said something quickly, her eyes lighting up like she’d just understood something important.

She stepped forward,and pulled my hands- “Wait—what?” I frowned. “No, I was joking—”

Too late. “Hey—!” Her hands moved fast.

Click!

Too fast. My wrists were secured.

“…oh.” I blinked. “Okay—wait—hold on—” She stepped back, admiring her work like she’d just completed a masterpiece.“Uh—no, no,” I laughed nervously. “This is funny. Great joke. Love it. But you can undo it now.”

She giggled.And then she waved.

And then simply walked out.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence.

I stared at the door.

Then at my wrists.

Then back at the door.

“…you’ve got to be shitting me.”

I tugged.Nothing!

I tugged harder.Still nothing.

“Okay—haha—very funny,” I called out, raising my voice slightly. “You can come back now!” No response.My smile faded.“Alright,” I tried again, a little louder. “Joke’s over!”

Still nothing!

The room suddenly felt a lot less interesting.And a lot more… concerning.

I pulled again.This time with actual effort.The chains didn’t budge. “Shit.”

I shifted my stance, trying to twist my wrists free.Didn’t work.

“Okay, okay, okay—this is fine,” I muttered. “This is still fine.”

It wasn’t fine.

My breathing picked up slightly.“HEY!” I yelled, louder now. “HELLO?! ANYONE?!” The sound echoed then came back right at me.

“Great,” I whispered. “This is how I die. Chained to a wall.In solitude...”

Melodramatic..yeah ,I know.

I pulled again.This time pain shot up my arms.

“Fuck—!”

My heart started racing.“Okay—no—no, no, no—” I shook my head, trying to calm down. “Don’t panic. Don’t panic.”

I was panicking.“HEY!” I shouted again, voice sharper now. “SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE!Please.”

I heard footsteps…Coming closer.Relief slammed into me so hard I almost sagged against the chains.

The door burst open.And there was Uncle Mat.

He stopped dead in his tracks.For a split second—He just kept staring.His eyes widened.

“…what the hell—” He muttered.I think I even saw him gulp.

“UNLOCK ME,” I snapped immediately. “RIGHT NOW.”

He moved instantly.No hesitation.He crossed the room in seconds, his hands were on the chains, working quickly.“Stay still,” he barked.

“I am still!” I shot back. “I literally cannot move!”

A second later—Click!The pressure released.I pulled my hands free instantly, rubbing my wrists.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he cut in, his voice suddenly too hard.I froze.His expression had changed.Gone was that calm, controlled look.Now there was anger.

“I didn’t—” I started, still a little breathless. “She brought me here and then—”

“She who?”

“I…I don’t know.You tell me.It’s your house.She was speaking Russian…”

“You followed a stranger?” He snapped.

I blinked. “What?” Why was I being made to feel like a disobedient toddler all of a sudden?!

“You just—what—let someone lead you around without questioning it?” His jaw tightened.For a second, neither of us spoke. Then I saw the concern shimmering under the anger.“You’re not supposed to do that, Liyana,” he said, quieter now, but no less intense. “You don’t just trust people like that.”

My chest tightened slightly.

His gaze flicked briefly to my wrists, still slightly red.