The Monster's Addiction (Completed)

Chapter 3

VIKTOR

I had a feeling she would be predictable. Having dealt with Stefan, I knew what to expect beforehand. But, truthfully, she has proven me way quicker than I had imagined.

The moment I saw her, I knew I couldn't leave her there. Her state reminded me of Stefan—the same memories I was trying to push back, and they suddenly rushed into my subconscious like a flooded dam in a split second.

But there was a strange force that worked mysteriously, pulling me towards her. Oddly, I was both curious and uncomfortable with this whole situation.

My family knew I didn't do well with emotions: it tends to backfire on me or someone else every damn time, and by all means, I avoid them.

I was well aware that there was no freaking way the girl would willingly come with me, so I did what seemed like my only choice: I threw her tiny body over my shoulder, barged into the bedroom and put her back on the bed.

"I didn't want to do this—believe me," I told her, walking around the bed to grab the cable ties. I had no f*****g idea as to why I stashed them inside here, but right now, it was helpful. "But you didn't leave me with a choice. If I let you free, you would run off again."

"No, no—" She began thrashing and kicking her legs before I could bind them.

"Please, it was a mistake! I won't ever do it," she begged with that sweet, mewling voice—tempting me.

Get your s**t together, Viktor.

I carried her inside the bathroom, plopped her down the countertop beside the sink. Her skin was soiled, there were bruises all over, and she was in dire need of a bath.

"Do whatever...whatever you want with me. I will—"

"Keep quiet!"

She gaped at me with those with wide doe eyes glistening with unshed tears when I approached her before curling herself into a cocoon.

The last thing I wanted to do was this: ripping the modesty off her even though that flimsy piece of cloth hardly suffices as clothing for anyone. But I knew that if I let her alone with a maid, she would, most likely, be uncontrollable.

Whenever a situation like this arose with Stefan, I dealt with it. He wouldn't let anyone come around, thrashing things around until I held him down.

Fuck! How do I do this again?

It was ten times worse now because I didn't know her at all. And the last thing she would want was a man cleaning her.

"Sorry," I mumbled low, unsure if she heard me or not, before ripping the white chemise off her.

To my utter surprise, she didn't flinch or protest, or even tried to hide her nakedness. My eyes raked over the bare creamy skin dotted with a lot of more bruises than her forearms: blaring evidence of what she went through. For a second, a knot in my stomach twisted, realizing the horrible things she encountered.

For a man who didn't know about emotions, I sure as hell was feeling a lot of things, and all at once. It was chaotic.

"Right," I grimaced a little, reaching out for her. "Let's...umm...do this."

She kicked my torso with her tied legs, and I had to grab her ankles quickly before she would try again for the balls.

"Don't you dare!" I warned her with a glare.

Once I placed her into the warm tub filled with soap bubbles, I took out the blade from the sheath attached to my belt. No sooner she saw the gleaming silver weapon did she let out a piercing scream.

"Jesus Christ! Stop!" I yelled. Then I realized that her terror-stricken eyes were trained on the blade in my hand. "Relax, I have no intention of hurting you, Mia."

Her eyes slowly rose to mine, looking for assurance. Perhaps she didn't find any and only curled herself into the tub. With one hand, I pulled her bind wrists closer and cut off the ties with the blade.

By now, she was sobbing softly and again looked up to me with red-swollen eyes, this time looking more perplexed than ever. It was as if she was expecting something worse from me.

"Come closer," I beckoned slowly, extending my palm. But she only turned away, gripping onto the edge of the tub. "Mia," I tried again. "I won't r**e you. I won't hurt you."

She only shook her head like a petulant child refusing a bath. I would have left her alone, but I knew that she would be sitting naked inside the tub until the water cooled down.

I waited for some time, hoping she would ease in eventually, but turned out that she was as stubborn as a mule. Anyone who dealt with me knew that patience wasn't my forte.

Moreover so, her blatant refusal reminded me of Stefan. I had let him be every time he threw in a fit, and in the end, all that coaxing was for nothing.

To this day, I regret not taking up the charge.

Vexed, I reached over to grab the washcloth and soap and lathered it. I started with Mia's back, as gently as possible, considering the scars and bruises were beyond horrifying. It was the height of degradation!

Fuck! Every inch of her skin was a testament of the wicked things done to her.

I mumbled an apology once or twice when she hissed in between her sniffles. By the time I was done washing her body, she had relaxed into the tub. "Lean back a little," I ordered before grabbing the bottle of shampoo.

In no time, the earthy whiff filled the air as I lathered her hair. It took longer than I had anticipated, given the enormous length of her hair and my inexperience of washing someone's hair. Besides, she appeared as delicate as an unpinned hand grenade.

Mia flinched with every little movement, making it difficult for me to soak the water off her hair and body. After a point of time, I gave up, wrapped her in a towel, and then brought her back to my room.

"Stay here," I told her and walked into the closet to grab any oversized shirt that would easily fit her tiny five-foot-something frame into the garment.

When I returned to the room, she curled herself into a ball at the furthest corner of the bed on top of the duvet—all wrapped in a big, white towel.

It reminded me of a kitten my cousin sister grew fond of when she was around six. The white, little furball wouldn't leave her bed at any cost at all.

Her anxious gaze carefully followed my gait when I walked around the bed to get to her and grabbed her ankles before she would try and slip away again.

"Give me some....and...and then...you...you can do..." she bargained or at least tried to.

Sighing, I shook my head and held up the shirt to show her. "Let go of the towel," I ordered. "It's damp, and you will fall sick."

Dazedly, she blinked and kept staring at me with her pleading doe-eyes I found so f*****g hard to resist. It was piercing into me, in a very uncomfortable manner, and I didn't know to shrug it aside.

It's nothing personal, Viktor. I told myself again and again, like a foreign language you are trying to memorize, without knowing its meaning.

I grabbed her hands in one of mine and removed the towel, and then slipped her into the shirt. Her body language changed a little, as she eased in when the clothes finally hid her nakedness. Perhaps, she didn't trust a single word I said when I told her that I wouldn't hurt her.

But who could have blamed her?

Mia was drugged, r***d, and beaten—repeatedly. And that's only a conclusion I drew so far. God knew what else she went through and for how long.

From my past experiences with Stefan, I knew that drug addicts need to be fed, at regular intervals and proper food of their choice. I remembered how Mama slaved herself in the kitchen day in and day out to prepare Stefan's favorite dishes with a single burning hope that her son would get well soon.

"I will get you something to eat. Is there anything, in particular, you would like?" I asked.

She gave me one of those blank stares, completely puzzled. "What do...I have to do?" she asked, answering my question with a counter-question, leaving me stumped.

"You don't have to do anything. You have to eat," I explained. "So what would you like to have?"

I waited for some time, but she didn't answer, only moved into a fetal position on the bed, burying her head. Sighing, I walked out of the room, and this time locked it behind me.

No sooner I was out of the room than I met Dominic.

He was my younger brother and the second-in-command. Apart from the color of our eyes, skin, and hair which we inherited from our father—Dominic and I were nothing alike when it came to character traits. Excluding our qualities of ruthlessness.

"That's a cute little thing you carried inside, I saw." He grinned, adjusting his hair. I didn't even want to know as to why his hair was disheveled at this time.

"Call Sammy," I ordered. "She is not well."

Sammy or Samantha was my cousin sister and the first and only doctor in our family line.

"So what did you do that requires a doctor? Our little sister would want to know the reason."

I halted abruptly and whirled around to face him with the glare.

"Someone f****d her up with drugs," I snarled, barely managing to keep the temper down. "I found her chained to the bed in Antonio's room."

"f*****g hell!" Dominic instantly sobered, the dark memories of our brother ghosting across his face. He blinked a couple of times and then nodded. "I will call Sammy," he muttered absent-mindedly.

"Viktor?" He called out when I had already started to walk away.

"Yeah?"

"How bad is her condition?"

"Worse than Stefan."

Dominic gave me one of those vacant stares for a moment and left without another word.

On my way to the kitchen, I met Mrs. Jones, our head-housekeeper. She had also been the nanny for all four of us. Mama trusted very few people around her children, and Mrs. Jones was one of them. She took care of every other domesticated need of this mansion after Mama's death.

"Viktor," she paused and acknowledged. She was the only one who called me by my name apart from my family; the other servants would not have such outrageous audacity. "Would you like your lunch be laid out on the table or should I send it to the office?"

"I will have lunch later. But I need you to send something good and delicious in my room."

"Good and delicious," she drawled. "A little more specific dear?"

"She—this girl—haven't been fed adequately for a long time. And she's also a little...lost right now," I explained. "Will it be enough?"

She smiled warmly. "I will send something within fifteen minutes."

"Thank you."

When I walked into the office, Christian and Lorenzo were already waiting for me. These were two of my closest people; not friends because I didn't have any or wanted one. As long as I could trust people, I considered them close. The rest of the world could go to hell.

"What is this?" I asked as Christian pushed a file before me.

"Antonio's bank accounts—every one of them across States. We are still digging out for the overseas ones."

"Good." I placed it aside. "Christian and Lorenzo, I want you both to find out all the possible information on this girl. Family background, nationality, blood group—every f*****g history—I want to know about it. Leave everything aside and get on with this."

"Okay." Both nodded in unison and left promptly.