Part 3My Son’s Girlfriend Locked Me In the Basement

My stomach sank.

Goddamn it. I’d meant it as a surprise.

I should’ve gone to his office. I never should’ve trusted her.

Her hand came down hard across my face—another slap, sharp and blinding.

She hissed. “You two—watch the bitch. If she so much as breathes funny, shoot her.”

And just like that, she vanished through the door.

Silence.

I looked down at Elara. Her skin was ghost-pale, her pulse weak under my fingertips. Her breathing was shallow, too shallow.

Panic clawed at my chest.

No phone. No way out.

And even if Cassian realized something was wrong… it might already be too late.

…

The door slammed open not long after, the kind of violent push that made the walls tremble.

A man walked in—broad shoulders, tangled beard, and the kind of eyes that gleamed with something foul. Lila’s dad, I assumed.

He drawled, sweeping a leering gaze over me. “So this is the bitch trying to steal my daughter’s boyfriend?”

Lila followed behind him like a queen triumphant, pointing at me with a venomous smile.

“She’s the one, dad. And get this—she had the audacity to lie to my face, that she’s Cassian’s mother. Can you believe it?”

Lila’s dad barked out a mocking laugh. “What a joke. Thinkin’ she can lie her way outta this.”

“Good thing I’ve got you here. Dad, now can you help me take care of her?”

But Lila’s dad had a flicker of hesitation. “Honey, are you sure that Cassian will not be mad at us for killing her? I mean, if she really had given birth to Cassian’s kid.”

“Shut up, dad. I didn’t call you here so I can listen to you talking about what is safe and what is not.”

“We could humiliate her, hon” he said, shrugging. “If that doesn’t work, then we can think about killing…”

Lila bit her lip, considering.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Just make sure she never crawls back to Cassian again.”

Lila’s dad grinned. “Trust me. I know exactly how to handle whores like this. You strip them of their dignity. Break their spirit.”

He turned to me, “So how about it, pretty thing? Cooperate with me here?”

Cooperate. My stomach lurched.

They didn’t believe I was Cassian’s mother. No one here did.

The curse of keeping a low profile in a world that only respected loud, visible power.

“We don’t have all day,” The man snapped, eyes narrowing. “Play along, or you heard my daughter, she wants you gone.”

Lila leaned lazily against the wall, watching.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “Cooperate how?”

The man clapped his hands. Two more men, covering with tattoos, entered the room—faces hard, eyes dead.

“We’re gonna make a little something for Mr. Hale,” Lila’s dad said. “Some photos. Probably a nice video.”

My pulse roared in my ears.

He waved one forward, and the man reached for my blouse.

I slapped his hand away on instinct. “Please,” I rasped. “Just bring Cassian down. We don’t have to do this—”

The man snapped.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked hard, dragging me upright. “You think I’m playin’, whore? I’m giving you a damn favor. Trust me, I am way gentler than my daughter.”

Pain bloomed in my scalp.

My hands shook. My dignity was screaming—but Elara…

My hands moved to my blouse. The buttons blurred through my vision.

The two men exchanged looks—hungry, sickening.

“Please…” I whispered, voice breaking.

I looked at Lila, now smiling like she wasn’t just pressuring me into taking my clothes off—and remembered what Cassian once told me.

He said he’d never met anyone gentler, or stronger, than Lila Moreau. Said her eyes were always soft. That she had a quiet kind of steel in her.

As her gaze dropped to my exposed chest, something in her mouth twisted in delight.

“No wonder Cassian fucked you,” Lila said with a sneer. “She’s pretty sexy for someone with saggy tits.”

Her dad chuckled beside her. Lila raised her phone, camera pointed at me like I was nothing more than a sideshow act.

The two men flanked me, positioning themselves like they were about to strip me bare for the shot.

Humiliation surged through me like a tidal wave, nearly drowning me.

But I whispered to myself, Seraphina, just a little longer. Just let them take the damn pictures. Just survive. Then you can get Elara to the hospital.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Lila took hundreds of photos, clicking without pause, as if she were capturing a performance. One of the men ran a hand slowly across my back, fingertips cold and filthy. I stiffened.

“Got enough?” he muttered.

Lila didn’t answer. Just stared, amused, and full of poison.

I tried again. “Please. She’s still bleeding. Just let me take Elara. Please.”

But Lila’s smile widened.

“What are you waiting for?” she mocked. “You still got your pants and bra on. That’s not much of a scandal, is it? Come on, we’re all adults here.”

“I—I don’t—please…”

Her eyes snapped. “Don’t?” she spat. “Who the fuck said you get a say?”

And then, that awful, slow smile curled across her lips.

“Let’s make this interesting.”

She pulled a small revolver from her coat, holding it up for show.

“I’ve got five bullets left,” she sang. “Let’s play a game. Every time you take off a piece of clothing, I take one bullet out. You keep your clothes? Great. Then I guess those bullets go somewhere else. Maybe you. Maybe your little brat.”

She laughed. A jagged, splintered sound that rattled the walls.

And it was an easy choice, wasn’t it?

Death or degradation.

So I reached for the buckle of my pants, fingers trembling, and undid it. The waistband slid down. My legs were bare. My dignity slipped further away with every second.

“Good girl,” Jake grinned. “You two—hands on her thighs. Let’s make it convincing.”

Their touch made bile rise in my throat, but they didn’t go further. Just posed, positioned like props on a stage Lila had built from my shame.

Then came the line I feared most.

“Now lose the bra and panties, whore.”

Those were my limits. My last lines.

But before I could answer, before I could even decide if I could stomach it—Elara moved.

She jerked, body convulsing—and then went still.

Too still.

“Elara?” I choked out, scrambling across the floor.