Caged By the Lich

9. Astrid

9

ASTRID

T he crack of a whip echoes through the cold stone corridors, dragging me from my troubled slumber. I stir, my heart already pounding as I recognize the sounds of torment—sounds that have become all too familiar in V's fortress.

Slipping from my bed, I press my ear to the heavy wooden door, straining to hear more. The distant cries grow louder, more insistent, and I can't help but inch open the door, peering out into the dimly lit hall.

There's one guard, the others absent from their usual posts, drawn away by whatever is unfolding below I'm assuming. I creep out, my bare feet silent on the cold stone as I follow the cacophony of pain, and the lone guard follows me. V doesn't make them stop me anymore, just follow and watch.

I descend a winding staircase, the air growing colder and damper with each step. The sounds grow louder—the wet smack of flesh on flesh, the harsh bark of commands, the agonized screams of the victim.

I reach a narrow landing, the scene before me bathed in the harsh glow of torches. V stands at the center of the room, his form imposing and terrifying. His eyes blaze with a cruel light, shifting colors with each strike of his whip.

A demon, bound and gagged, hangs from the ceiling, their body marked with the evidence of V's wrath. Each lash leaves a trail of blood, each cry a testament to V's ruthlessness.

I watch, frozen in horror, as V interrogates the captive. "Who else was working with you?" he growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. The demon whimpers, his words incoherent through the gag. V’s whip cracks again, eliciting another scream that reverberates through the stone chamber.

Every strike reminds me of the raw power V wields, the absolute control he exerts over life and death. I should be disgusted, but there is something about the way that he never shies away from anything that has me entranced.

There's something…intense about the scene, something that stirs a dark curiosity within me. I bite my bottom lip, a habit I fall into when concentration overrides fear. And right now, I'm trying to focus my mind back on where it should be — disgusted and terrified as any mortal should be around V — not staring at how the shirt sticks to his sweat-slicked body.

And yet…I like the power. I like knowing that no one will back down from him, that if I were the one he wanted to protect nothing could touch me. I like the magic that seems to bloom off of him and how he will always follow through with what he says. At this his words come back to me.

I won't touch you — really touch you — until you're begging for it.

I'm close to it now. Seeing him acting like this, so raw and in charge, punishing… Fuck, my thighs squeeze together to alleviate the ache that's bloomed there.

As if sensing my shift in emotions, V turns slightly, his gaze locking onto mine. His eyes narrow, the color shifting to a deadly crimson. "Little rebel," he says, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Enjoying the spectacle?"

I flinch, torn between the desire to flee and the inexplicable desire to stay, to understand what drives this terrifying demon lord. A warmth spreads through me, a startling contrast to the cold stone beneath my feet. I realize, with a mix of shame and exhilaration, that the sight of V’s brutal power both repels and…attracts me.

I retreat, my heart pounding in my chest as I flee back to the relative safety of my room. I slam the door behind me, leaning against it as if to shut out the unsettling mix of fear and desire that V's actions have stirred. The room feels suddenly stifling, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and unwanted arousal.

I sink onto the edge of my bed, my hands trembling as I try to make sense of what I've just witnessed. The brutality of V's methods should horrify me—and it does—but it also kindles a strange excitement within me. It's a reaction I can't fully understand, a darkness I never knew existed within my heart.

The memory of his hands around my throat, his lips on my neck, every time I've let this demon come far too close and yet not close enough…It all surfaces, burning through my body.

I close my eyes, the image of V’s cruel smile burned into my mind. The surge of adrenaline leaves me breathless, my body aching with a need I can’t quite comprehend. I’m scared, disgusted, and…aroused. The realization is both thrilling and terrifying, a contradiction that leaves me reeling.

It keeps me up the rest of the night and by the time morning comes, I'm itching to get out of my room. One guard follows me when I slip out of the door, and I'm grateful for my ability to move about the castle.

V told me it was for being good. But he and I both know I haven't been good. And for some reason…I don't want to be good to him. I've always been the good little daughter. Maybe now…

I want the demon's punishment.

I have to shake off the thought as arousal floods through me. Keeping my feet light, I pause at a corner, hearing hushed voices. Two of V's advisors are deep in conversation.

"The southern territories are proving difficult," one says. "Lord Karzath refuses to bend the knee."

"V won't stand for that," the other replies. "He's already mobilizing forces."

I file away this information, my mind racing. The southern territories - what could V want with them? It's one of the only things I can't seem to piece together.

Moving on, I go through different rooms until I find myself in a dimly lit study, not his usual one. Scrolls and documents litter the desk. Glancing over my shoulder, I approach, my heart pounding.

A document catches my eye. It's a list of demon lords, with notes beside each name. Some are marked as allies, others as threats. I recognize my father's name, labeled unstable . The sight makes my stomach churn.

Footsteps echo down the hall. I quickly replace the documents and slip out, my mind reeling from what I've learned.

Over the next few days, I gather more pieces of the puzzle. Overheard conversations reveal plans to target the Vex'nar clan. Discarded messages hint at more guards moving from the city to the south. .

One night, I overhear V himself, speaking in low tones with Kaz.

"How soon?" V asks.

It's quiet for a moment, and I realize that Kaz must have been contemplating when he speaks. "It's getting stronger. I'm not sure how much longer it will stay hidden."

"Well, we'll just have to find it first," V snarls.

I retreat to my room, my head spinning. I suspected he was looking for something in the southern territories, but now, I know for sure. I just don't know what it is.

And I have to wonder what I got dragged into on my father's behalf. What was he mixed up in…and will I have to pay more consequences than the life of a prisoner for it?

V never calls me for dinner. Instead, a guard brings it in for me, and I pick at it before giving up. My mind is too busy, thinking over everything from the last few days, and I end up tossing in my bed before I fall into a fitful sleep where I watch Athena get dragged out of the ballroom instead of me and her fate is much, much worse.

I jolt awake, a scream dying on my lips as the remnants of my nightmare cling to my consciousness. Sweat plasters my hair to my forehead, and my heart races like a trapped animal in my chest. I have to fight the urge to sob, to remind myself that Athena is safe at home and okay.

As I struggle to catch my breath, a movement in the shadows catches my eye. I freeze, my body tensing as I realize I'm not alone. A figure steps into the dim moonlight filtering through the window, and my breath catches in my throat.

V.

His presence, usually so domineering and intimidating, seems different in the quiet of the night. His eyes, typically hard and calculating, now hold a hint of... concern?

"You were crying out in your sleep," he says, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

I swallow hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. "It was just a dream," I mutter, hating how weak my voice sounds.

V moves closer, and to my surprise, he perches on the edge of my bed. The mattress dips under his weight, and I instinctively draw my knees to my chest, creating a barrier between us.

"Tell me," he says. It's not a command, but a quiet request.

Maybe it's the lingering fear from the nightmare, or the strange intimacy of the moment, but I find myself speaking. "It was my sister," I whisper. "She was taken instead of me to pay my father's debts, but it was not as easy for her as it has been for me."

V is silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "You fear for their safety," he states, not asking.

I nod, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't know what's happening to them. If they're okay, if they're..."

"They're alive," V interrupts. "Both your father and sister. No one has taken her."

My head snaps up, hope and suspicion warring within me. "How do you know?"

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. "I have my ways, little rebel. Your family's well being is... of interest to me."

The use of his nickname for me, usually so irritating, now feels almost comforting in its familiarity. I study his face, searching for any sign of deceit, but find none.

"Why are you here?" I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

V's expression shifts, becoming unreadable. "Like I told you, I was called because you were distressed," he says simply.

We sit in silence for a moment, the quiet punctuated only by the sound of our breathing. It's strange, this moment of almost-peace between us. No barbed words, no power plays, just... this.

"Try to rest," V says finally, rising from the bed. "You're safe here, Astrid. Whatever else you may think of me, know that."

As he moves towards the door, I find myself calling out, "V?"

He pauses, looking back at me.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words feeling foreign on my tongue.

He nods once, then slips out of the room, leaving me alone with my tumultuous thoughts.