chapters 19
Silken Chains
Chapter Nineteen: Strings
Viktor sat at the edge of the bed, the bowl of soup in his hands. He scooped a spoonful and blew on it gently, cooling the steaming liquid. The room was eerily quiet, except for the sound of Viktor's steady breaths and the occasional clink of the spoon against the bowl.
"Here," Viktor murmured, bringing the spoon to Alex's lips.
Alexâs body responded before his mind caught up, his lips parting instinctively, opening like a puppet bound to invisible strings. His eyes widened as the spoon passed his lips, the warm broth sliding down his throat. It was automaticâsomething he had done so many times, a routine drilled into him by Viktorâs constant care.
But as the warm liquid hit his stomach, the realization struck. Shame flooded through him. What am I doing? His thoughts screamed in protest, but his body had already obeyed.
He felt patheticâso accustomed to Viktorâs commands, so conditioned by his presence, that he acted without thinking. The shame was unbearable. How long had he been like this, following orders without resistance? How long had he let Viktor mold him into something so⦠compliant?
His body moved on its own, betraying his will. He felt utterly disgusted with himself.
No. Not this time.
"I donât want it," Alex said, his voice trembling as he turned his head away. The words felt foreign on his tongue, and he immediately regretted saying them. His heart pounded in his chest, the defiance making him feel exposed. He couldnât look Viktor in the eyes.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Viktorâs gaze darkened, cold and calculating. Gone was the soft smile, replaced by a chilling stare that sent a shiver down Alexâs spine. It felt like the temperature in the room had dropped. Viktor tilted his head slightly, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper.
"If you donât want to eat, thatâs fine," Viktor said, his tone unnervingly calm. "We can always use a syringe to get the soup into your stomach. Your choice."
Alex froze, his breath hitching as Viktorâs words sank in. He shuddered, feeling a wave of fear ripple through him. The coldness in Viktorâs voice, the way he said it so casually, like it was no big dealâlike forcing the soup down his throat was just another part of the routine.
He had no choice.
Viktor lifted the spoon again, placing it in front of Alexâs lips, his eyes never leaving Alexâs face. The silent threat lingered in the air. Alexâs hands trembled, his mind racing with fear. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth again, accepting the soup. The taste was no longer warm or comfortingâit was bitter, heavy with the weight of his submission.
"Good boy," Viktor murmured, his hand reaching out to gently rub Alexâs head. The touch was soft, almost affectionate, but it made Alex flinch inside. Viktor smiled, that same soft, calm smile as before, as though nothing had happened. As if the threat, the coldness, the shift in his demeanorânone of it had occurred.
It frightened Alex more than anything. This persona, this calm, collected act Viktor playedâit was terrifying. He could switch from cold cruelty to gentle affection in an instant, as though one was no different from the other.
Alexâs heart sank deeper, trapped in the ever-tightening web of Viktorâs control.