Kat shifted slightly on the metal table, letting her gaze linger on Mr. X a fraction longer than necessary. "You know," she said casually, tone teasing despite the ache in her muscles, "you're... kinda attractive, in a weird way. Corpse-y, but still... interesting."
The room went quiet for a heartbeat. Even a few of his men glanced at each other, clearly caught off guard by her audacity.
Mr. X froze mid-step, then blinked slowly, one dark eyebrow arching. His lips twitched—half amused, half incredulous.
"Corpse-y, huh?" he drawled, voice low, dangerous, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I'll take that as... a backhanded compliment? Or are you just trying to flatter me before I hurt you?"
Kat smirked, letting her cheek brush the cold metal of the table. "A little of both," she said sweetly, mock innocence dripping from every word. "I like to mix things up. Keeps life interesting."
Mr. X's lips twitched again, this time into something closer to a grin, dark and slightly ridiculous against the stern lines of his face. "Interesting," he murmured, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable. Most would be crying or begging by now, and here you are, giving me fashion critiques and flirting with death."
Kat's grin widened. "Hey, I like to multitask. You should try it sometime."
He paused, staring at her, a mix of exasperation and begrudging respect in his gaze. "Unbelievable," he muttered again, before signaling one of his men to begin their 'round two' testing.
Kat braced herself, letting the tension coil like a spring. She was trapped, yes—but she was also alive, defiant, and already scheming.
Kat's head tilted slightly to the side, eyes tracking Mr. X as he circled the table, hands poised to continue his cruel work. Despite the searing pain radiating from her toe nails, her voice remained sharp, teasing, deliberately catching him off guard.
"You look tense," she murmured, smirk tugging at her lips through the grimace. "You need to... get laid or something. Seriously, it might help."
Mr. X froze mid-motion, one hand hovering over her foot, incredulous. "Excuse me?"
Kat's grin widened, even as she bit down on a rag to keep from shouting. "You heard me. All that scowling, the flexing, the general murder vibes... you're wound tighter than a screw. Maybe a little release would help. Just saying."
His lips pressed into a thin line, jaw tightening. "I... wish," he said finally, voice clipped, dark. "But... my... dick doesn't work. It's a sacrifice. Power, eternal life... the usual."
Kat blinked once, then laughed—a sharp, humorless sound that echoed in the small, cold room. "That sucks. Have you... tried Viagra? Or... something? I'm just thinking out loud here."
A flicker of something—amusement, incredulity—crossed his face, and then he returned to his task.
The pain was exquisite as each nail was removed, fire shooting up her nerves, but Kat's voice remained steady, taunting, unapologetic. "Seriously, though... try the viagra. you'd look less tense if you got laid. Just saying."
One of his men glanced at him, smirking. "You hearing this, sir?"
He ignored them, dark eyes flashing at her. "You are... incredible," he growled through clenched teeth, hands resuming their work. "You think pain excuses... this?"
Kat's grin didn't falter. "Nah... but it sure makes conversations interesting."
Every yank, every sharp pull of the nails was a test of endurance—but she held, even laughed, watching for the slightest cracks in their composure. And in that moment, even stripped to suffering, she realized she was doing exactly what she had intended: getting under his skin, distracting him from the torture itself.
Pain is temporary. Chaos is my weapon, she thought. And damn, if he doesn't look tense... maybe I'm onto something.
———————
The first light of dawn cut through the misty air as V's boots hit the pavement outside the mansion. Every step was heavy, deliberate, yet the tension coiled inside him like a living thing. He hadn't found her. Not last night, not anywhere.
By the time he reached the mansion doors, his fury was a barely contained storm. A tornado of chaos, rattling the bones in his chest, thrumming through his veins.
The moment he entered, the signs of the day's chaos hit him in full force. Broken chairs, toppled furniture, stray weapons leaning dangerously against walls—they all screamed of a household on edge. The brothers were gathered in the war room, heads turning as one, expressions flickering between worry and guilt.
"Where the hell—" His voice cut through the room like a blade, low, dark, unstoppable.
Rhage, unable to resist, smirked nervously. "V... she... we—"
V's eyes snapped to him, stormy and cold. "Don't. Finish. It."
Z and Wrath stepped forward, clearly prepared for the tempest that had just arrived in their midst, yet even they felt the palpable electricity radiating from him.
He scanned the room quickly, taking in the faces, the tension, the unspoken admissions: Kat wasn't here. They didn't have any luck either. V knew he could have found her if he had more time, that thought alone had him seething.
His fist struck the edge of a table, the wood cracking under the force. The brothers flinched but didn't speak. He didn't care. His eyes, sharp and unrelenting, were already calculating, planning, readying.
She's alive. She strong. They would find her.
The thought, dark and unyielding, barely calmed the storm inside him. Every instinct screamed to find her, to tear through whatever—or whoever—stood in her way. But for now... the storm had to be contained, the brothers restrained, before he could let the hurricane loose.
V exhaled slowly, a predator's patience settling over the chaos just enough to mask the raw, lethal intensity simmering beneath. He would find her. And when he did... the world itself would bend to the force of his fury.
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