The jungle afternoon pressed down like a hot, wet tongue licking the back of your neck.
Thick leaves dripped sweat.
Sunlight cut through the canopy in thin golden knives that only made the blood on the ground look wetter, redder, fresher — almost alive and mocking him.
Reon was already gone.
Or at least the boy he used to be.
His legs ended in two smoking black-and-red stumps just above the knees. The torches had done their work slowly, deliberately, pressing the burning wood into his flesh until the meat cooked and popped. Sizzle… pop… sizzle. The smell of his own cooked meat still hung thick in the humid air, sweet and nauseating, clinging to the back of his throat. His hands were shattered — fingers snapped like cheap plastic, jagged bones poking through torn skin. Every tiny twitch sent fresh lightning bolts of pain straight into his brain, making his vision flicker white.
He couldn't even crawl.
He could only lie there in the dirt like a broken toy someone had thrown away and decided to play with one last time.
Thud.
Jax's steel-toed boot slammed into his ribs again. Bones cracked with a wet sound. Reon's whole body jerked like a puppet with its strings cut, a choked gasp escaping his lips.
"Please…"
The word scraped out of his raw throat, pathetic and wet with blood.
"Please stop… don't stab me… I can't… I can't take it anymore…"
Thorne laughed low, cracking his thick neck with a loud pop.
"Chicken-shit simp still begging? Cute. Keep going. I like the sound."
Arun Sudheer stood in the middle of it all like a king on a throne of filth. Tall, ripped, golden-haired, his white shirt hanging open to show abs carved from marble and cruelty. Next to him was Lyra — his Lyra once. Now she looked like sin wrapped in silk: tight dress hugging her hips, tits pushed up high, glossy red lips curved in a smile that could cut glass. She stared down at Reon like he was dog shit on the bottom of her stiletto.
Arun tilted his head slow, smirking.
"Eh, you useless fucking dog. Why don't you lay some eggs for us, huh?"
He paused, eyes dragging over Reon's missing legs with fake pity.
"Oh wait… you don't even have that tight little hole anymore. My bad."
Lyra's laugh cut through the air like a whip.
She stepped closer, stiletto heel pressing right into the burned meat of Reon's thigh.
Crunch.
Fresh blood welled up around the heel.
"Why are you still breathing, Reon?" she purred, voice sweet as poison candy. "Just die already. You're embarrassing me in front of my real man."
Reon's eyes — one swollen shut, the other burning with hate — locked on her.
Even now, even broken, his brain stayed sharp.
How do I survive this? How do I get out alive? I need to remember their faces… every single one… if I live, I will make them pay…
Viktor grabbed a fistful of Reon's sweaty hair and yanked his head back hard.
Snap.
Neck muscles screamed in protest.
"Shut your whore mouth before I cut your tongue out."
Arun unzipped slowly, right there in the open.
No shame.
Just power.
The hot stream hit Reon's face like liquid fire — straight into his eyes, nose, open mouth.
Splash… splash… ssshhh…
It burned every cut, every blister, every raw wound.
Reon gagged, choking, trying to turn away, but Thorne's boot slammed his head down into the mud, holding him there.
"Drink it, toilet boy," Arun growled, voice thick with pleasure. "This is the closest you'll ever get to tasting something from a real man."
Lyra bit her lip, watching, thighs pressing together under her dress.
"God, look at him swallowing your piss like a good little slut. Remember when he used to beg me to let him eat me out? Pathetic. He couldn't even make me wet."
Reon's stomach rolled violently.
The taste — salty, hot, humiliating — flooded his throat.
He wanted to scream.
Instead he swallowed.
Because they held his jaw shut until he did.
But they weren't done.
Not even close.
Jax scooped up a warm, steaming handful from the ground — fresh dog shit from the guard hound they'd brought along.
Thick.
Brown.
Disgusting.
"Open wide, bitch."
He shoved the filth straight past Reon's teeth, forcing it deep into his mouth.
Gag. Retch. Cough.
Reon's eyes watered.
Tears mixed with piss and filth running down his cheeks in dirty streaks.
"P-please… no more… I'll do anything… just don't kill me…"
Arun crouched low, face inches from Reon's.
His breath smelled like expensive wine and pure evil.
"Your limbs got some nice meat left. My dogs are gonna love chewing on these stumps tonight. But me?"
He traced a finger down Reon's burned chest, pressing into a blister until it popped.
"I'm gonna skin you slow. Roast your hide. Turn it into the softest fucking shoes. Just like I did to your old hag mother. Remember how she screamed when I broke her?"
Reon's chest heaved.
Fresh rage mixed with the pain.
How do I get out of this alive? How do I survive long enough to make them pay?
Arun's grin stretched wide.
"Oh, Leona? That tight little virgin cook? She begged so pretty. 'Please, Master Arun, not there…'"
He laughed. "You should've tried her first, bro. But you couldn't even get Lyra off with that sad little limp-dick stick, could you?"
Lyra leaned down, her perfect tits brushing Reon's shoulder as she whispered hot against his ear.
"I faked every single orgasm with you, baby. Every moan. Every 'oh Reon, you're so big.' Lies. Arun took what he wanted from me and made me help him with your family. You? You were just a warm-up toy I used until something better came along."
Reon's voice cracked, but the words still came sharp through the filth in his mouth.
"You bitch… you helped plan it all… the setup… my family… I'll kill you… if I ever get one fucking chance…"
Arun stood up, kicking Reon's stump hard.
Crunch-squelch.
Fresh blood sprayed across the dirt.
"Still got this much energy? No legs. No hands. Body half-roasted. And you're still talking shit?"
He shook his head, almost impressed. "Your insignificant little life has zero meaning in this world. Just like your dead whore mom and your cum-dump sister."
The three guards closed in tighter.
Jax punched Reon's face again — CRACK-CRACK-CRACK — knocking out the last of his teeth in a wet red spray.
Thorne lit another torch, pressing the flame slow against Reon's chest.
Hssssssssssss.
Skin bubbled and peeled.
Meat cooked.
Reon screamed until his voice gave out, body thrashing uselessly on the ground.
Viktor grabbed Reon's remaining good arm.
Twisted.
SNAP.
Bone broke clean.
Then he started sawing with a jagged knife, peeling muscle like wet paper.
Blood poured in thick streams down Reon's side.
Reon's vision blurred.
Pain was everything now.
A living fire eating him alive from the inside out.
But somewhere deep, buried under the agony, that sharp mind still whispered: Remember their faces. Remember every laugh. Remember every word. If I survive this… I will destroy them all.
Arun wiped his hands on a silk cloth, looking bored now.
"Enough playing. Father was a fool to just kick you out. Me? I finish what I start."
He nodded once at Viktor.
The big guard lifted the heavy axe high.
Sunlight flashed off the razor edge like a promise of death.
Muscles flexed.
The blade hovered for one perfect, frozen second at the top of its arc.
Reon's eyes widened.
Heart slamming against his ribs.
Time stretched like warm taffy.
The axe started its deadly fall.
WHOOOOOOSH—
Mid-swing.
Blade screaming straight for Reon's neck.
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