His Favorite Broken Little Spy

In this godforsaken hellscape known as the Enclavea high-security compound hidden deep within the lawless borderlandsI am the caged bird, the delicate ornament kept by the kingpin, Dante Moretti.

To everyone here, I am a broken thing. Blind. Deaf. A useless piece of porcelain.

But beneath this shattered shell, I am a woman with a heart that has never stopped fighting for a way out. Dante likes me this way. He says a woman who cant see his sins or hear the screams of his victims is the only kind of woman who can stay loyal. He doesnt want trouble; he wants a statue.

I still remember the last girl who knew too much. She tried to smuggle a message to the outside world. They skinned her alive that same night. Now, shes the deep-red rug in Dantes officea constant, silent reminder of what happens to those who try to play hero.

Right now, a man is screaming at my feet. Its a gut-wrenching, soul-piercing soundthe cry of an undercover agent having his fingernails ripped out one by one. The agony should be vibrating through my eardrums, but I dont flinch.

Dante leans down, gently wiping a spray of hot blood from my cheek. His voice is a low, terrifying purr of satisfaction. "Only my Elena is truly good. You can't hear them, and you can't see the mess I make. Thats why youre not afraid of me, is it?"

I let his hand linger on my face, my expression a mask of vacant serenity. No sound escapes my throat. My heart hammers against my ribs, frantic and wild, threatening to burst through my skin, but I dont let it show.

Three years. For three years, Ive survived this slaughterhouse by pretending the world is silent and dark. No matter the carnage, I must remain a void. One slip, one instinctive blink, and Ill end up under his feet like the girl before me.

Then, she arrived. A new "host" for Dantes streaming empire.

She waited until we were alone, slipping past the blind spots of the cameras. Then, with a cold, predatory smirk, she whispered into my ear: "Give it up, Elena. My system shows your stats. You arent blind. And you sure as hell aren't deaf."

In the quiet of the room, the new girl, Janet Emerson, pressed a grooming blade against my left eye. The cold steel hovered just millimeters from my pupil.

One tremor of her hand, and Id be blinded for real.

I didnt blink. I stared straight ahead, my gaze hollow and unfocused, my breathing as rhythmic as a sleeping childs.

"Stop acting, Elena Rossi," Janet hissed, her voice vibrating with malice.

She searched my face, looking for a crack. "My interface shows it all. Your hearing and vision are one hundred percent healthy. Youve played the 'broken doll' for three years to trick a man like Dante. Did you really think no one would ever catch on?"

She leaned closer, her breath smelling of expensive mints and desperation. "My ultimate objective is to become Dantes one and only. Failure means my end. If I expose you, your throne beside him is mine."

Interface? Objective? The words sent a chill down my spine. Id survived three years on raw instinct and careful planning, but I never expected to face something that defied logica girl who seemed to be playing a game with my life as the obstacle.

Dont panic.

I shoved the terror into a dark corner of my mind, keeping my face a blank canvas of wood and stone. I pretended to be thirsty, my hands trembling slightly as they "groped" blindly across the table for a glass of water.

Janet narrowed her eyes. She reached for a vase, pulled out a long-stemmed red rose, and laid it directly in the path of my hand.

I saw the thorns. I saw them clearly. But I didn't stop. I gripped the stem firmly.

The thorns pierced deep into my palm. Blood welled up, hot and bright. I forced my body to shudder, letting out a soft, pathetic whimper. I pulled my hand back, cradling the bleeding palm against my chest, curling into the chair like a wounded animal.

"Quite the actress," Janet sneered, stepping back in disgust. She pulled a small metal cylinder from her pocket. "This is a sonic needle. Its designed to send a pulverizing shockwave of pain directly into a functioning brain. A truly deaf person won't feel a thing. Let's see if you can keep that mouth shut when your nerves are on fire, Elena."

The needle was inches from my temple when the door was kicked open. The floor shuddered under a heavy tread.

Dante stood there, dragging a blood-soaked man behind him. The mans legs were twisted at impossible angles, leaving a smear of crimson across the hardwood.

Dante tossed a bloody gold tooth onto the table. He loosened his tie, a dark grin playing on his lips. "Tough bastard. Broke two pairs of pliers before he spit out the tooth with the encryption codes."

Janet turned pale, her knees buckling as she collapsed to the floor, a dark stain spreading beneath her.

I acted as if I heard nothing. Stumbling to my feet, I followed the scent of iron and sweat. When I bumped into Dante, I grabbed his lapels, burying my face against his chest as if seeking a harbor in a storm.

Dante didnt push me away, even though I was staining his bespoke suit with blood. He looked down at the trembling Janet, his eyes turning into shards of ice.

Without a word, he snatched a letter opener from the desk and flicked his wrist. The blade whistled through the air, pinning Janets hand to the floor.

"Agh!" Janet screamed, her face contorting in agony.

Dante ignored her. He used his thumb to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. Then, he took my thorn-pricked hand and pressed his lips to the blood in my palm.

"My bird has a delicate heart," Dante murmured, his voice dropping to a low, lethal register as he looked back at Janet. "If you frighten her again, Ill grind you into meat and feed you to the hounds in the yard. Am I clear?"

Dante was a man of infinite business. His criminal empire required constant maintenancedebts to collect, traitors to silence.

Janet didn't die after she was dragged out. Using some kind of advanced, "system-provided" medicine, her hand healed with impossible speed, the flesh knitting back together before the day was out. But the memory of the pain remained, twisting her features into a mask of pure hate.

That afternoon, while Dante was in the basement cells personally dealing with a captured federal agent, I was left in the second-floor lounge.

The lock clicked. Janet walked in, her face livid.

"Dantes busy. No cameras in here," she said, her voice dripping with venom. She pulled a small spray bottle from her robe. "This is a high-potency truth serum. One breath, and itll feel like your internal organs are being scorched by a blowtorch. If youre human, you wont be able to stop yourself from screaming for help."

I sat on the sofa, staring into the middle distance, a perfect picture of silence.

A second later, a sickly sweet scent hit my nostrils.

The reaction was instantaneous. My throat burned. My stomach cramped so hard I felt my guts were twisting into knots. My muscles began to spasm uncontrollably. Sweat drenched my back in seconds, and a primal urge to shriek tore at my vocal cords.

"Keep playing! Keep going!" Janet shoved a micro-camera into my face, her voice a jagged blade. "Tell me! Who sent you? Whats your contact code? Tell me, and Ill give you the antidote. Were from the same world, Elena. I can help you get out of this place!"

Malicious lies wrapped in fake pity.

I rolled off the sofa, my body coiling into a tight ball on the floor. I could only manage a series of desperate "hissing" sounds as the agony peaked.

"Say it! Cry for help! Just one word and the torture stops!" Janet waved the antidote in front of my clouded eyes.

Just as my vocal cords were about to betray me, I slammed my teeth shut and bit downhardon my own tongue.

The sharp, localized tear of pain acted as an anchor, grounding me against the internal fire. I funneled the scream into a mouthful of dark, iron-tasting blood.

Spit.

A spray of warm blood and torn tissue hit Janet square in the face.

"You little bitch!" Janet shrieked, wiping her eyes as the antidote bottle shattered on the floor. She grabbed a heavy brass poker from the fireplace and swung it at my head. "To hell with you! Die!"

At that exact moment, a voice boomed from the hidden speakers in the corner.

"Are you tired of having that hand, too?"

It was Dante. His eyes were everywhere in this house.

Janet froze, the poker trembling in mid-air.

Hearing his voice, I seized the opening. I scrambled backward, "clumsily" knocking over a waist-high Ming vase.

Crash.

The porcelain shattered, shards slicing into my calf. I curled up in the wreckage, clutching my bleeding leg, sobbing silently.

The door was kicked off its hinges. Dante stormed in, radiating a murderous aura. Seeing the blood on my leg and the iron rod in Janets hand, the beast in him broke its chains.

"Get her out of here," Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he scooped me up. He looked at Janet with eyes that promised a slow death. "Whichever hand held that rod... take it. One finger at a time. Chop them off."

By nightfall, Janet had crawled back.

She was wearing black leather gloves. A few hours ago, she had used her "system" to exchange points for a numbing agent and a clotting serum. Since she didn't have enough points for limb regeneration, shed had to settle for sewing her own severed fingers back on with a needle and thread.

The sheer madness of it told me one thing: her desire to kill me had become an obsession.

Dante watched her like a scientist observing a rabid dog, idling spinning a combat knife in his hand.

"Dante, sir... Im more useful to you alive than dead," Janet rasped, kneeling on the floor. "Theres a high-profile buyer in the Dubai circles. Hes looking for a perfect heart for a transplant. Type O-negative, pristine condition."

She looked up at me.

"This woman is a waste. Shes blind, shes deaf, shes a burden. But a heart raised in a 'hothouse' like this? Its perfect. Cut it out of her. The price a billionaire would pay is more than this Enclave makes in a month. Why keep a broken toy when you can have ten million dollars?"

She was trading my life for her own.

The room went silent. The spinning knife stopped.

Dante used the blade to clean his nail, his gaze shifting to my chest. My blood ran cold, but I forced my expression to remain vacant.

Suddenly, Dante rose. He walked to me, using the tip of the knife to flick open my collar, resting the cold steel against the skin over my heart.

I flinched instinctively, my hands coming up in a confused, wandering motion to find the sharp object.

In that same heartbeatCRACK!

Dante crushed a heavy whiskey glass right next to my right ear with his bare hand.

Shards of glass sprayed my face, cutting into my cheek. I let out a muffled groan, tears welling up as I ducked away, clutching my face.

It was a dual test of reflex and biology. If a person can hear, a sudden explosion of sound near the ear causes the heart to skip a beat and then skyrocket. The knife against my chest was there to catch the rhythm of my fear.

My heart was racing. But I gritted my teeth, using every ounce of my training to decouple my physical reaction from the noise. I focused on the pain in my cheek, making my pulse erraticthe pulse of a person who is hurt and confused, not one who was startled by a sound.

Dante stared at my bleeding face for ten agonizing seconds. Then, he let out a low, dark chuckle and tossed the knife onto the floor.

"A mad dog who wags her tail for a bone shouldn't try to tell me how to run my business," Dante said, looking down at Janet. "My birds heart belongs to me. The last man who tried to harvest her organs is currently being digested by my dogs. Do you want to be next?"

Whatever "system" Janet had must have been screaming a death warning, because she pressed her forehead to the floor and didn't make a sound.

Dante snapped his fingers. "Take her away. Clean her up. Put her in that couture evening gown I bought."

He grabbed my chin, leaning close to my ear. "Get ready, Elena. Tonight, were going to the underground auction on the high seas. After tonight, youll finally show the world what you're worth."

Janet heard this and looked up, a silent, jagged grin spreading across her face. She knew it would be her last chance.

The yacht cut through the black waves of international waters. Inside the grand ballroom, the air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and the presence of the world's most dangerous menarms dealers, black-market magnates, and fugitives.

Dante sat at the head of the main table, his arm draped possessively around me. Janet, dressed as a cocktail waitress, was moving among the tables.

"Dante, your tastes are getting weirder," a Thai cartel boss laughed, gesturing toward me. "Whats the point of keeping a blind and deaf ornament? Why not let the boys have a turn?"

Dante toyed with a high-stakes poker chip. "She can't hear or see. That makes her the perfect vault for my secrets."

"Is that so? I don't buy it." The boss pulled a silver revolver from his waistband. He clicked the cylinder into place and pointed the barrel directly at my forehead. "Let's see just how deaf this little doll really is."

BOOM!

He fired. The bullet whistled past my ear, shattering a champagne tower behind me. Glass rained down like diamonds.

Everyone in the room went still, their eyes locked on me.

I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. Instead, as if feeling a sudden thirst, I slowly reached out and fumbled for my glass on the table.

The room exploded into laughter. They were convinced. I was truly a broken thing.

Just as a satisfied smirk touched Dantes lips, the world turned upside down.

"Shes lying! Shes faking everything!"

Janet rushed into the center of the room, screaming at the top of her lungs. "Dante! Youre all being played! She isn't just a fakeshes a high-level mole! Shes been undercover for three years!"

The laughter died instantly.

Janet didn't wait. She slammed a device onto the table, patching it into the yachts massive LED display.

The screen flickered to life.

It was surveillance footage. In a darkened room, a womanclearly mewas wide awake. I had a micro-earpiece in one ear. My fingers were flying across a laptop keyboard, transmitting encryption codes and compound layouts.

The evidence was undeniable. It was a checkmate.

Every man in the room reached for his weapon. The tension was a physical weight.

Dantes relaxed mask shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. His face contorted with a primal, predatory rage. He lunged, grabbing me by the hair and slamming me face-down onto the poker table.

My forehead hit the felt with a sickening thud.

Dante snatched the Thai bosss revolver. He emptied five chambers, leaving only one. He spun the cylinder.

Click-click-click-click.

The sound of the Russian Roulette wheel echoed in the silent hall.

Dante hauled me up by the collar, shoving the barrel into the center of my brow. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice a broken whisper. He didn't scream. He mourned.

"Year one," he whispered. "You took a knife for me."

Click. He pulled the trigger. Empty.

My body shuddered, cold sweat soaking my dress.

"Year two," he continued. "I killed two rivals just to keep you safe."

Click. Second shot. Empty.

My muscles were coiled like springs, ready to snap.

"Year three..." His voice broke. "Every night, you curled into my arms and told me you loved me."

Click! Click! Click!

Three, four, five.

He counted out the three years of lies with every pull of the trigger. Each empty click was a hammer blow to my soul.

The cylinder stopped. Everyone knew. The last chamber held the live round.

Dantes finger tightened on the trigger. The barrel dug a red ring into my skin. He leaned in until our noses touched.

"Elena," he smiled, a tear finally escaping his eye. "This is the last one."

His finger moved.

"Are you still not going to ask me to save you?"