Okay, this entire mess is going under a readmore. I do not recommend reading it if you are easily triggered by murder or abuse. 

Manson had thought she was being careful. She had dropped out of school three months prior without telling her parents, signatures forged for paperwork and online classes set up. Classes she had no interest in doing. But, the fact was, Chance and Oona thought she was still going to school. 

It was easier for her to see Micah if they thought that. The last thing she needed was for them to find out she was seeing anyone. Friends were forbidden so she knew anything more than that was definitely not permitted. 

It wasn’t until she woke up in chains, a thick metal collar tight across her throat, did she realize how badly she had fucked up. Manson tried to pull at the chains, but her body felt weak and sluggish. It wasn’t the first time her parents had drugged her. 

She squinted at the figure tied in the center of the room, trying to place why it seemed so familiar to her. There was a hood over their head, but she could still tell the person was a guy. 

“And so she awakens,” came the sickeningly sweet voice of her father. He always took that tone when he was mocking her or about to do something unspeakable. It was the same tone he used when he called her his good girl and it made her want to puke.

She remained silent, fearful of how it would all play out as Chance strode into view. He touched the bound man and, when the figure jerked, he laughed. The sound never failed to make her cringe.

“Didn’t think I would catch on to your little toy, Manson?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head, a sadistic grin spreading over his lips. He was watching her face, waiting for it to click in her eyes and he was not disappointed by the look of disbelief and horror that fought for dominance. 

With a flourish, he tugged the hood off of the man’s head and jerked his head up, letting his daughter see that, so far, not a hair on her boyfriend’s head had been harmed. 

Micah’s eyes found Manson’s and anger crossed his features. Had he not been bound himself, he would have taken a swing at Chance. “Let her go! Whatever your issue with me is, it doesn’t have anything to do with her!” he yelled, struggling against the ropes until his skin was raw.

It was enough to make Chance laugh. “My dear boy, this has everything to do with her. She knew the rules and yet…” The words trailed off and he shook her head. “Did she bother to tell you that she is little more than sixteen? Seems awfully perverse for a man of your age to be playing with a child.” 

He knew the other was barely twenty, but it was a game. 

Micah grit his teeth and thrashed a little more.

“Daddy, stop. Please, please don’t hurt him,” Manson finally whimpered, desperate and terrified as she glanced between the two men. “I won’t ever disobey again, I swear, just please don’t hurt him.”

The words had Micah stopping, eyes widening. She had always told him her father was not a nice man, but this… This seemed a little excessive. 

“Let her go, you sick fuck!” he screamed, not noticing that his wrists were already starting to bleed. All that mattered to him was sparing Manson any pain. He had seen the bruises her father left on her and he damn sure wasn’t going to just stand idly by and watch her get hurt. 

With a bored look, the elder male simply kicked the boy in the back of the leg and let him fall forward. His gaze was fixed on his daughter, her tears filling him with rage and disgust.

“Oh I’m not going to hurt her. I’m just going to make her watch,” he hissed, jerking the boy’s head back by his hair. 

“Quick or slow, Manson. Pick one.”

She couldn’t answer, knowing he wouldn’t make it quick no matter what she said. Instead, she screamed and pulled against her chains, desperately trying to pull even one loose. 

“That’s hardly an answer,” he cooed, taking a dulled but immaculately clean blade and waving it in front of the boy’s face. “But if you insist…” 

Before Manson could protest, the blade sank into Micah’s torso, slotting between his ribs. She knew the position well enough to know her father had punctured one of his lungs. 

Chance pulled the knife free slowly before dropping it to the ground and crossing the room. One bloodied hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. 

“This is your fault, my daughter. Don’t you ever forget that,” he growled, squeezing just hard enough to feel her bones begin to crack before letting go. “And now you are going to watch him drown in his own blood.”

Through her sobs, she barely noticed when Chance took his leave, her body sagging in the chains as she watched Micah struggle to breathe until that little light went out of his eyes.