Call Me Mommy

5. Kent's POV

King Of The Throne Of Despair

The moment I woke up to a bright, clear day, I knew something unusual was in store.

I stretched out, reaching for cuddles, which was strange because I was never the cuddling type, especially after s*x. But last night was different.

"Princess,” I mumbled, sitting up. The other side of the bed was cold and empty.

She must have left early. Too bad.

I sighed and went through my morning routine, still trying to figure out what made her different. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about her?

"Find me everything you can on Gold Ambrose," I told my assistant as he entered with reports.

He blinked, confused. “Uhn?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I want to know everything.”

He nodded and turned to leave, but my phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but Truecaller displayed the name: Gold Ambrose.

A jolt of excitement hit me, like a damn teenager after his first time. I cleared my throat, trying to act calm as I answered, ignoring the curious glance from my assistant.

“Gold, calm down. What’s wrong?” Her panicked voice drained any hint of my earlier excitement. I was already moving toward the door, giving quick orders. "Austin, get the Ferrari. I'll drive."

I hurried through the corridor, running straight into my best friend, Louis, in the elevator.

“Yo, bro. You look like you've seen a ghost,” he teased, eyes following my quick movements.

“More like I’m about to make one,” I growled, jamming the keys into the ignition as he slid into the passenger seat without question.

"It's not like it’s your first time. Why so worked up?" Louis asked as I sped out of the penthouse, weaving through traffic like a madman, ignoring the horns blaring behind us.

The motel was twenty minutes away at a normal pace, but I didn’t have twenty minutes.

“Can you get someone to bust down the door to room 44 in LA Motel?” I asked.

Louis chuckled. “How’d you know I bought the place? Have you been snooping on me?”

I glared at him, “f*****g answer man.”

I swerved onto a side road, taking the shortcut. “Eyes on the road, man. I'll handle it. You owe me one.”

Four minutes and twenty-two seconds later, I screeched to a stop outside the motel, jumping out without turning off the car. I raced upstairs after confirming the room number from the front desk.

I found hotel staff fiddling with the keys outside room 44.

"Four minutes, and you haven't gotten her out yet?" I barked.

"We tried, but no one answered," one staff member stammered.

“Incompetent,” Louis sneered, brushing his hair back. “I should replace all of you.”

Inside, I could hear whimpering and crashing sounds.

“Princess, get away from the door!” I warned before bracing myself. With one hit, the door gave way, crashing into a table and shelves.

I forced myself to breathe, but the panic rising in my chest was suffocating. “Princess, where are you?” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady, even though I was anything but calm.

“In the bathroom,” came the faintest reply. Relief and dread hit me all at once. I didn’t know what I would find behind that door, and for a moment, I hesitated—just a split second. Then I slammed my shoulder into the door. She needed me. That was all that mattered.

My heart raced as I pushed through the bathroom door, half expecting the worst. It collapsed weakly with a groan. I rushed in, terrified I might have hurt her, but then I spotted her huddled defensively in a corner, a bloodied mop stick in one hand and an open shower head in the other.

Behind me, a man was hunched over the toilet, vomiting.

“You can drop the weapon now,” I said, stepping toward her slowly. She shook her head violently, slapping her hand across her face, trying to stay awake.

“Kent?” Her voice trembled.

“Yeah, it’s me. You called, remember?” I crouched next to her, noticing the blood matted in her hair. "Were you drugged?"

“I think so,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over her own erratic breathing. Her hands shook as the mopstick slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor. When she slumped into the bathtub, I noticed the deep gash on her scalp, blood trickling into the water. Her eyes darted around the room, still searching for a threat, as if she couldn’t believe it was over.

“I'm going to pick you up and get you out of here, alright?” I said gently, my ears catching the rustling and groaning behind me.

"You b***h! Where’d you get the strength to pour bleach down my throat?" The man behind me gagged, his words slurred. The air stank of vomit.

“Louis, take this human waste out of here,” I said, positioning myself between Gold and her abuser. “Put him in the dark room.”

Louis grinned, hauling the man away without a fight.

"You stabbed him too?" I asked, noticing the blood on the broken mop stick.

She nodded, wincing as her eyes fluttered shut.

"That's my girl," I murmured, gently lifting her from the tub, getting drenched in the process.

“Help me,” she whimpered, collapsing against my chest like a lifeline. Her whole body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the sheer weight of everything that had happened. She held on like I was the only thing keeping her she could hold unto in this world.

“Help’s here, Princess. Let’s get you patched up.” I carried her through the crowd that had gathered but instead of the hospital, I drove her back to my penthouse. I’d already called for my personal doctor to send over a female specialist.

When the medical team arrived and asked me to leave, I left the room, letting them work in peace, and headed for the dark room, where Louis was waiting with the scumbag who’d dared to lay hands on her.

Before I could enter, Louis blocked my way. “Hold up. Before you go in and wreck him, I need to know who he is. Is he someone important? I’ll need to cover your tracks."

“I don’t know who he is. Do your job and find out,” I snapped, pushing past him.

“Fine. But don’t kill him yet. Torture him all you want, but wait for my word before finishing him off.”

“No promises,” I muttered, stepping into the pitch-black room. Only a single candle flickered, casting eerie shadows so he could see his reflection.

“Where am I?” came the groggy voice of the man chained to the chair.

“The king of despair has awoken,” I turned my attention from Louis to the smelly rat in human form who dared to inflict those injuries on my Princess.

The smell of sweat, fear, and vomit thick in the air. The man squirmed in the chair, but he was already broken—just not enough for me. I should have walked away, handed him over to Louis, but something in me snapped.

“f*****g answer me. Who brought me here? Don't think you can get away with chaining me in this place. If I go missing for one day, my family will look for me and you'll be in trouble then.”

I smiled as I walked in front of the man, blocking his view of the mirror. “Time for a pop quiz,” I said, my voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.

“Who are you?”

“Another question, but let me warn you. In this place you don't do the talking. I ask the question and you reply when I let you,” I said in a calm way as I swung the bat in my hand across his face, enjoying the whimper and the crack sound that followed.

Only then did I step away from his front to let him see a reflection of the piece of art I was turning him into.

Louis hurried out of the room, calling back over his shoulder, “Just give me ten minutes to do s background check, Collins. Don't kill him until then, okay?” I nodded, my eyes fixed on the man strapped to the chair.

"No promises," I muttered, watching as the last remnants of his arrogance drained from his face, replaced by pure terror.

I crouched beside him, my voice low and deadly as I whispered, “Now that you know the theme of this party… shall we get started, ‘King’?”

I reached for the nail remover, twirling it in my hand like an artist preparing his brush. His eyes darted to the tool, panic taking over as he mumbled incoherent words through his fractured jaw. Saliva and blood dripped from his mouth, but all I heard was desperation.

I savored it.

"You're ready," I said, barely containing my excitement.

And then came the screams. The kind I loved to hear. Long. Raw. Helpless.

Each sound, each snap of bone and tear of skin, felt like justice. But not just for Gold—for me. For the years of restraint, for every time I had let things slide.

For another moment, I wondered if she’d hate me if she saw this side of me. If she knew what I was about to do. But then I remembered the blood on her hair again in my mind, and all those thoughts disappeared.The thought of him causing her panic and pain overshadowed it.

This was personal. It had to be done.

In here, I was in control. Every piece of him was mine to break.

And I wasn’t stopping until there was nothing left to fix.