Chapter 2

The air in the underground gambling parlor was thick with the sickening stench of copper blood and cheap cigars.

I was bound tightly to a massive wooden spinning wheel.

"Ms. Vance, are we really going this far?" a rich playboy next to her asked, rubbing his hands together with a cruel, excited gleam in his eyes.

Serena Vance sat in the center of the room on a plush leather sofa.

Her long legs were crossed, and she was casually flipping a gleaming, silver throwing knife in her hand.

Christian Cole sat right beside her. His face was pale, but a smug, barely noticeable smirk played at the corner of his lips.

"Serena, let’s forget it. Ethan looks like he’s already hurt pretty badly. It’d be bad if something actually happened to him."

Serena let out a cold laugh, her gaze sweeping over my face like a blade.

"A killer's son? Since when does he deserve pity?"

She stood up and walked to a spot about fifteen feet away from me.

"Ten knives, Ethan. As long as they don’t hit your vitals, I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars for each one."

"Finish all ten, and you get a million. That should be enough to cover your sick little sister’s surgery and ICU bills."

My dry, cracked lips parted.

"Deal."

No hesitation. No begging.

A flash of sheer violence crossed Serena's eyes.

Three years ago, I was the pampered young heir of the Reed family whom she held in the palm of her hand.

Now, I was just a broken piece of trash who would discard his life for money.

She flicked her wrist.

*Whoosh—*

The first knife grazed my cheek, slicing off a few strands of my hair before thudding deeply into the wooden board right next to my ear.

The coldness of the blade sent a shiver down my spine.

I didn't blink.

"One hundred thousand," I said, my voice completely flat.

Serena clenched her jaw so hard her facial muscles tensed.

The second knife grazed my neck.

The third knife brushed past my waist.

Each throw carried the sound of tearing wind, packed with her desire to tear me into a thousand pieces.

The crowd around us erupted into cheers.

I kept my eyes locked onto Serena's.

Those eyes, which used to be filled with deep affection, now held nothing but disgust and sadistic pleasure.

As the eighth knife was about to fly, Christian suddenly gasped. Pretending to lose his balance, he bumped hard against Serena's arm.

The trajectory of the knife shifted.

*Squelch.*

The blade sank straight into my left shoulder.

Blood erupted instantly, soaking through my faded, washed-out white shirt.

An agonizing pain ripped through my nerves. I let out a muffled groan, cold sweat immediately drenching my back.

"Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Ethan! It was an accident!" Christian gasped, covering his mouth, but his eyes were dripping with pure malice.

Serena froze. Looking at the blood gushing from my shoulder, the hand holding the remaining two knives trembled slightly.

But she quickly masked her reaction, looking at me coldly.

"Does it hurt?"

"When your mother bribed the doctor and snatched the heart meant for Christian's father, Christian felt ten thousand times worse than this."

"Sins of the mother, paid by the son. You deserve every bit of this."

I looked at her and forced a pale, blood-stained smile.

"Ms. Vance, does this knife count? If it does, that makes it eight hundred thousand."

Serena stared at the smirk on my lips, the rims of her eyes turning a furious red.

She suddenly slammed the remaining two knives onto the floor.

"Ethan Reed! Do you get off on degrading yourself like this?!"

Tied to the board, my blood dripped slowly from my fingertips onto the floor.

"Ms. Vance, if I don't degrade myself, my sister dies."

"Give me the money."