The Lovenemy Story of Silla and Rudy (Part 1)

[1st POV Story]

Rudy POV

You want to know about Dickville? Let me paint you a picture. It’s not some quaint, postcard town where kids play on clean streets and neighbors wave at each other. Nah, Dickville is dark, twisted, and rotten to the core. It’s the kind of place where the shadows hide more than just secrets. This city doesn’t have heroes, only survivors, and the ones who thrive? They’re the ones who know how to play dirty. And no one plays dirtier than us—The Wolves.

We’re not just another gang. We run this city. Whatever filthy business you can think of, we control it. Drugs, guns, gambling—it’s all in our hands. But that’s not the real money maker. Nah, that comes from the trade. Human trafficking, to be blunt. We take young women, mold them, break them, and sell them to men who have more money than morals. Some people call it vile, but to us, it’s just business. That’s the way Dickville works. You either use the city or let it use you, and we’ve been using it for years.

You can thank my old man for that. Alexander Maybank. Ever heard that name? If you have, you’d know not to speak it too loudly. He’s the one who built this empire from scratch, clawed his way to the top, and made sure everyone knew exactly who was in charge. People say he’s as ruthless as Jonah, the leader of MANPOWER, and they’re right. Jonah might have his global empire, but here? This is our territory. Alexander is the alpha, and he made damn sure everyone knows it.

But he’s not running this show forever. That’s where I come in. Rudeth “Rudy” Maybank, the golden son. He raised me to be his successor, trained me from the day I could walk to be the one who takes over when he’s ready to pass the torch. I’ve got the looks, the charm, and the kind of smile that gets me whatever I want. But don’t let that fool you—I’m just as dangerous as the old man, maybe more. I learned from the best, and I know how to make people hurt when they need to, but I also know how to make them feel like they’re the most important thing in the world. That’s a skill, trust me.

So, tonight I’m at The Den, our favorite bar. It’s basically a second home for The Wolves—dim lights, dark booths, the kind of place where you can make a deal or end a life without anyone batting an eye. I’m here with Froy and Cole, two of our best. Froy’s a big guy with a scar down his cheek—got it in a knife fight a few years back. Cole’s the quieter one, always got a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a look on his face like he’s three steps ahead of everyone else. We’re talking shop, figuring out the details for the next shipment. We need to hit our numbers this month. Alexander’s orders. And when he says jump, we don’t ask how high—we’re already in the air.

“Alexander wants us to increase the numbers this month,” Froy says, leaning in close so no one else can hear. “Big buyer coming in. Top dollar. You know what that means—fresh meat.”

Cole just nods, taking a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up around his face. “Last batch was too old. They want the new ones. Untouched.”

I’m listening, but I’m not really paying attention. We’ve had this conversation a thousand times before, and it always ends the same way: with us making a plan to get what we need. We’re good at what we do, and that’s why we’re still around.

But then Cole’s eyes flick over to the bar, and I see that grin tug at the corner of his mouth. “Speaking of fresh meat,” he says, nodding toward a girl standing alone by the bar. “Look at that one. What do you think, Rudy?”

I follow his gaze, and there she is—petite, Asian, looks like she doesn’t belong here. She’s clutching her drink, glancing around like she’s waiting for someone or maybe just trying to figure out how to disappear. There’s a softness to her, something that stands out in a place like this. I let my eyes linger on her for a moment, and then I smile.

“She looks scared,” I say, my voice low, casual. “Easy pickings.”

Froy chuckles, leans back in his chair, and tilts his beer toward me. “I bet you fifty bucks you can’t get her outside before the next song ends.”

“Fifty? You’re on.” I push my chair back and stand up, adjusting my jacket. It’s a black leather piece, heavy and worn, with the Wolves’ emblem stitched on the back—a snarling wolf’s head with red eyes and bared fangs. When people see that jacket, they know who they’re dealing with. It’s a warning as much as it’s a uniform. And then there’s my tattoo, right there on my forearm, just peeking out from under the sleeve. Same snarling wolf, black and gray. It’s not just ink; it’s a brand, a promise that I belong to something bigger than myself.

I take my time walking over to the bar, my movements slow and relaxed. No need to rush. I can see her noticing me out of the corner of her eye, pretending she doesn’t, but I know she’s watching. They always are. When I’m close enough, I lean in, just enough to get her attention.

“Hey,” I say, my voice soft, almost a whisper. “You look like you’re waiting for someone. Or maybe… hoping someone would notice you?”

She glances up, her eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. She’s nervous, but she tries to hide it. Cute. I give her a smile, the kind that says I’m dangerous, but you might like that.

“Relax,” I tell her, leaning in a little closer. “I’m not gonna bite… unless you want me to.”

Her cheeks flush, and I can see the way her mind’s working, trying to figure me out. It’s like this every time—there’s a moment where they’re not sure if they should be scared or flattered. I like that moment. It’s when I know I’ve got them.

“How about we step outside for a bit?” I ask, tilting my head toward the door. “It’s too loud in here, and you look like you could use some fresh air.”

She hesitates, glancing down at her drink, then back up at me. I can see the conflict in her eyes. But I also know people, know how they think, and I can tell she’s close to saying yes. So I give her a little nudge, keep my tone light, almost playful.

“Come on,” I say, reaching out and lightly touching her hand. “I don’t bite… too hard.”

She takes a breath, and then she nods, letting me guide her toward the door. I don’t even look back at Froy and Cole, but I can feel their eyes on me, feel their grins. They know I’ve won the bet already. Hell, I knew I’d won the moment I stood up. That’s just how it goes.

This isn’t about the fifty bucks. It’s about control. It’s about reminding myself—and everyone else—that I can take what I want, when I want it. And as the door closes behind us and the cool night air hits, I already know how this is going to play out.

 

Silla’s POV

He really thought he had me. That stupid blonde with his cocky grin, thinking he could just sweet-talk me, like I was some clueless girl who’d fall for his charm. Men. They’re all the same—thinking with what’s between their legs instead of their brains. And this one, this so-called prince of The Wolves, thought he could get his hands on me? Please. I’m this close to crushing his stupid nuts right now, but I have to be patient. I need to play this right.

So why am I here, humoring this smug bastard? Because Rebecca is missing, and I’m sure The Wolves have something to do with it. Sure, Angela and Alexander—Rudy’s precious daddy—have some truce going, but I know better. Those bastards are still taking girls from our area. Men can’t be trusted, especially not The Wolves. And if Angela thinks this whole “truce” thing means peace, she’s kidding herself. I respect her, but this isn’t the time to play safe. Not when women are being oppressed, used, and sold. She built The Angels for empowerment, and that’s great, but trying to negotiate with Alexander? It’s pointless.

I followed Rudy to the back of The Den, letting him lead me slowly into the darkness. He probably thought he was winning, that I was just another girl charmed by his smile. I’ll let him think that—for now. I need to get him alone, corner him, and make him spill everything I need to know. I didn’t care if it went against Angela’s orders. Right now, it was about finding Rebecca.

Rudy glanced back at me, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “You know, I like a girl who doesn’t play hard to get. You’ve got this… confidence.” He let the word roll off his tongue like he was savoring it. “It’s cute.”

I forced a playful smile, rolling my eyes just enough to make it seem like I was teasing him. “Yeah? Maybe I’m just not playing at all.”

He laughed, a low, smooth sound that echoed off the walls around us. “I’m Rudy, by the way,” he said, his tone casual but carrying a hint of pride. “Rudeth Maybank. Prince of The Wolves.” He said it like it was supposed to impress me, as if the title carried some kind of magic.

“Prince, huh?” I arched an eyebrow, feigning interest. “So, you own this town or something?”

“Something like that.” He smirked, stepping closer. “My father might be the king, but I’m the one who makes sure everything runs smoothly. The Den, the streets, the deals… it’s all mine to manage. And that means you, sweetheart, are in my territory.”

I held his gaze, trying to read those ice-blue eyes of his. There was a confidence there, but it wasn’t just talk. He believed it. He lived it. And, God help me, I could see why people called him the prince. Up close, under the dim streetlight, he was almost surreal. Sharp jawline, perfectly tousled blonde hair, and those eyes—damn, were they blue, or was I just seeing things? Midnight didn’t seem to dull their color, and I hated that I noticed, hated that I could admit he was… hot.

Rudy slipped off his leather jacket, the one with that snarling wolf emblem, and draped it over my shoulders. “It’s cold, lady,” he said, his voice low, almost tender, as he adjusted the jacket on my white dress. It was heavy, warm, and it smelled like leather and something distinctly him. I could feel the weight of it, like a reminder of what he represented, who he was.

“You don’t seem like the type to care if I’m cold,” I said, letting a bit of suspicion slip into my tone.

He grinned, that cocky, infuriating smile. “I don’t. But I do like the way it looks on you.” He leaned in closer, so close I could feel his breath against my skin, and I found myself staring into those eyes again. “So, you’re not afraid of me, right?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, almost daring me. “Let’s just go to my place and have some fun. You look like you could use a little… distraction.”

Before I could respond, he pushed me back, not hard, but just enough to pin me against the wall. His body was close, too close, and I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the tension crackling between us. “Do you think a prince like me would do it here, out in the open?” he whispered, his lips brushing close to my ear, his words dripping with suggestion.

I laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that cut through the dark. I wasn’t going to play the helpless girl, not with him, not with any man. “Shh… don’t you worry, prince.” I leaned in, so close my lips brushed his ear, and whispered, “I’m secretly a killer, and I could cut your dick off while we’re having it.”

I could feel him stiffen, his breath catching for just a moment, and then he laughed. It was a real, deep laugh, and I could almost feel the vibrations of it against my skin. “You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said, his tone a mix of amusement and something darker, something that felt like a challenge.

I smiled, wide and sweet, tilting my head as if I hadn’t just threatened to castrate him. “Kidding,” I said, my voice light, but my eyes were hard. “Or am I?”

He blinked, processing what I’d said, and for a split second, I saw a flicker of doubt cross his face. Good. Let him wonder. Let him think about it. Because the truth was, I loved the look of fear in a man’s eyes, that moment when they realized just how fragile they were. I’d found the perfect method to remind them—their weakness, lying between their legs. I didn’t need to bring a gun or a knife to this fight. I had all the power I needed right there, and I wasn’t afraid to use it.

“Maybe you’re crazier than I thought,” Rudy said, his smile returning, but it was different now—strained, cautious. “I like that.”

I could feel his eyes on me, still trying to figure me out, still trying to decide if I was playing or if I was actually dangerous. And that was fine by me. Let him keep guessing. Let him think he had the upper hand. It’d make it all the sweeter when I brought him down.

For now, I’d play along, let him think he was charming me, because that’s what he wanted. But the moment I got him where I wanted, he’d see just how much of a mistake he’d made. Until then, I’d keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending.

 

Rudy POV

I couldn’t help myself. There was something about Silla that got under my skin, in a way most girls didn’t. She had this look—like she was daring me, pushing me to see what I’d do next. I’d been watching her all night, teasing, flirting, but she just played along, never once losing that cool, calm expression. Most girls would’ve melted by now, but not her.

And that just made me want her more.

So, I did what I do best. I took control. I closed the space between us, slid my hand to her chin, and tilted her head up to meet my gaze. For a second, we just stood there, and then I leaned in, pressing my lips against hers. It was a soft kiss at first, testing the waters, but she didn’t back away. Instead, she leaned into it, her lips warm, her mouth moving against mine like she’d been waiting for this just as much as I had.

I felt her hand move, slipping between us, and then I felt it—her fingers, light at first, brushing over my groin. A thrill shot through me, and I smirked against her lips. “Oh, that’s cute,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, my voice low and teasing. “A little girl curious about my dick? You want a preview, huh?”

Her lips curved into a smile, and she didn’t pull her hand away. “I can already feel it,” she whispered, her voice dripping with a mix of playfulness and something darker. “And it feels… big.”

I laughed, letting the sound roll out of me, full of confidence. “Oh, baby, it’s more than big. It’s going to make you forget every other guy you’ve ever been with.” I kissed her again, harder this time, trying to pull her closer, to feel more of her, but something felt off. Something warm.

Before I could even think about it, I felt her lips brush my ear, and she whispered, “I got you.”

I barely had time to register what she’d said before the pain hit me. Her hand tightened, and it wasn’t playful anymore. She squeezed my balls with a grip that made my whole body seize up. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—just this sudden, searing agony that shot straight through my gut, paralyzing me. My eyes flew open, and I gasped, but it came out more like a strangled wheeze.

“What the…?” I managed to choke out, my voice cracking as the pain intensified. I could barely see straight, and when I looked at her, there was no teasing smile, just this cold, almost amused expression, like she was enjoying every second of it.

“You… fucking bitch,” I hissed, trying to sound tough, but I could barely speak. My eyes were bulging, my face hot, and every nerve in my body was screaming. I tried to pull away, but my legs felt like they were made of lead, and she just squeezed harder, making me see stars.

I reached for my gun, desperate to get control of this situation, to make her stop, but when my hand fumbled at my belt, there was nothing there. My heart sank, a fresh wave of panic crashing over me, and I glanced down to see her holding it—my gun, in her other hand, like she’d been toying with me this whole time.

She smiled, her eyes glinting with a kind of dark amusement. “Looking for this?” she said, her tone light, almost playful, as she casually tossed the gun aside. It hit the pavement with a dull clatter, out of reach. “Guns aren’t fun. I like to make it… personal.”

She tightened her grip again, and I couldn’t help it—I screamed. It was a raw, guttural sound, ripped from my throat, but the music blasting from inside The Den drowned it out, covering my humiliation. I felt the sweat pouring down my face, my vision blurring from the pain. It was unbearable, like she was tearing me apart from the inside, and I couldn’t stop it.

“Fuck… let go,” I croaked, but my words came out weak, pathetic. “You’re… gonna regret this.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she whispered, leaning in so close I could feel her breath on my skin. “I’m enjoying myself too much.”

I tried to move, to do anything, but it felt like my whole body was shutting down, my legs shaking so bad I could barely stand. She kept squeezing, her fingers digging in like she’d done this a hundred times, and I couldn’t stop the whimpers that escaped me. I’d never felt pain like this—sharp, intense, radiating through my entire body until I thought I was going to pass out.

Then she shifted, tilting her head slightly, and that’s when I saw it—a small, delicate tattoo just behind her ear, partially hidden by her hair. The Angels’ symbol.

My eyes widened, a fresh wave of shock cutting through the haze of pain. She wasn’t just some random girl. She was one of them. And she’d played me, the whole time.

“You… you’re…” I tried to speak, but she cut me off, her smile widening.

“That’s right, prince.” She twisted her hand just a little, and I nearly doubled over, my knees buckling. “I’m one of the Angels. And right now, I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”

I wanted to scream, to curse her out, to do something to get out of this, but all I could do was stand there, trapped in her grip, and pray that somehow, the pain would stop.

 

Silla POV

“How does it feel, Rudeth? Prince? Blondie?” I mocked, letting each word drip off my tongue, slow and taunting, savoring the moment. “What should I call you, huh? Rudy boy?” I tightened my grip, and I could see the way his whole body tensed, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he tried to hold back a scream. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you. But…” I leaned in closer, letting my lips brush just against his ear, “I’m not making any promises about cutting off your freakin’ dick. I hate dicks. They’re fuckin’ ugly and stupid. And don’t even get me started on the balls. Men are so goddamn stupid, thinking those things make them strong.”

I laughed, and it wasn’t soft or sweet—it was sharp, cutting, the kind of laugh that slices right through a man’s ego. Because that’s what they were, all of them—so fragile, with their entire identity tied up in their manhood. Pathetic. You threaten their balls, and suddenly they’re not so tough anymore.

I glanced down at Rudy, his so-called icy blue eyes starting to gloss over, teary, like he was on the edge of breaking. Oh, I loved this. The Prince of The Wolves, trembling under my hand, looking like he was about to cry.

“Now you’re silent,” I said, my voice dropping to a soft, mocking coo. “I think you finally get our position here, don’t you, handsome?” I let the last word hang in the air, a deliberate taunt. Okay, why did I call him handsome? That was definitely not part of the plan. I was here to use him, maybe torture him a little, not to flirt. But damn it, why did he have to look so good? Even now, in this position, with me holding him by the balls—literally—he still had that stupid, rugged hotness. Those muscly, tattooed arms tensing as he tried, and failed, to twist out of my grip.

He managed to raise his hand, trying to reach for my neck, like he was going to choke me, but I just twisted his arm and pinned it. “I’m a trained soldier, baby,” I said, my tone dripping with mock sweetness. “I might only be 5’1, and you’re, what, 6’2? But tell me, does size really matter when I’ve got your manhood in my hand?”

He gritted his teeth, his face contorted in pain. “What do you want…?” he finally choked out, barely able to breathe through the agony.

I smirked, pleased he was starting to catch on. “Now you’re asking the right question.” I cocked my head to the side, looking at him like he was a kid finally figuring out a simple math problem. “One of your men kidnapped my partner—Rebecca Allistair. Blonde, from 13th Street. Ring any bells?”

Rudy blinked, his eyes narrowing as he processed what I said. “You know I’m not the day-to-day guy, huh?” he stammered, his voice shaking but still trying to hold onto that damn pride. “I’m the son of the fucking leader! How do I know where your little friend is?”

I leaned back slightly, my grip loosening just enough for him to catch his breath. “I’m not stupid,” I said, my tone deadly calm. “I know you don’t deal with the day-to-day, but you can help me. You see, if you help me, I’ll let you walk out of here, and you get to live as a man. But if you don’t…” I trailed off, my eyes flicking to my purse.

Rudy followed my gaze, and I could see the confusion turn to horror as I reached in and pulled out a severed, shriveled piece of flesh—a dick. His eyes widened, and for a second, he looked like he might puke. “I’ve castrated men before,” I said, my voice light, almost cheerful. “And I can do it again. I’ve got a scalpel that can cut through your precious package like butter.” I let the severed piece dangle in front of his face, watching as his eyes flicked between it and my own, struggling to make sense of what was happening. “So, what do you say, handsome?” There it was again, why the hell do I keep calling him that?

“F-FINE!” he stammered, his voice cracking under the pressure. “I’ll help you! Just—fuck, just let go!”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I cooed, leaning in to press a quick, mocking kiss on his cheek. His skin was clammy, slick with sweat, and I could feel him trembling.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, metal glinting under the dim light. “Let’s make sure you don’t try anything stupid,” I said, snapping them onto his wrists, locking his hands behind his back. He was too dazed, too out of it to resist, and when I unzipped his pants, his eyes widened in a mix of confusion and fear. “I got this from my colleague down at Gavin’s Rock,” I continued, my tone casual, as if we were discussing the weather. I pulled out a small, sleek device—an electric cock ring, custom-made to burn like hell if he tried anything funny.

I slid it onto him, and he jerked, his body stiffening as the cold metal pressed against him. “It’ll burn your dick off if you even think about saying no to me,” I said, patting him gently, almost affectionately. “So, be a good little prince, and don’t make me use it.”

He was silent, but I could see the rage simmering in his eyes, that defiance still flickering beneath the fear. It made me smile. Good. I wanted him angry. I wanted him to understand just how powerless he was, to feel it deep in his bones.

“You really think you can get away with this?” he growled, his voice rough, desperate, trying to hold onto any shred of control.

“Oh, I know I can,” I whispered back, leaning in so close our lips almost touched. “Because right now, I’m the one with the power, Rudy boy. Not you.”

And as I tightened my grip on his balls, just enough to make him wince, I could see it in his eyes—the realization that, for once, he was the one being played. And there was nothing he could do about it.

 

Rudy POV

I felt like an idiot. My head was still spinning, my body aching from where she’d grabbed me, but more than that, I was angry. Angry at her, angry at myself for letting it get this far. How the hell did I, Rudy Maybank, end up in a position like this? I was supposed to be the one in control, not pinned down by some girl with a smart mouth and a death grip on my balls.

I glared at her, trying to keep my voice steady, even though I felt that damn metal ring pressing tight against me. “You’re kidding about the dick ring, right?” I forced a laugh, like it was a joke I could brush off, but there was an edge of panic creeping in, and I knew she could hear it.

She didn’t say anything. Just smirked, that smug, infuriating smile, and then she pressed the button.

The jolt hit me like a lightning strike, a shock that went straight to my groin, making every muscle in my body seize up. I screamed, and it was a raw, guttural sound, like it was being ripped out of me. My legs buckled, and I went down hard, crashing onto all fours. The pain was blinding, like my whole body was on fire, radiating from that one spot. It wasn’t just pain; it was humiliation, this feeling of being completely, utterly powerless. I gasped for breath, my head spinning, and every time I tried to move, it just hurt more.

Silla’s laugh echoed in my ears, sharp and mocking, as she grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head up. “C’mon, prince,” she taunted, dragging me towards her car. “I’ve got places to be, and you’re coming with me.”

I stumbled, half-crawling, half being pulled, until she shoved me into the passenger seat. She was rough, not caring if I banged my knee against the door, just shoving me down and snapping the cuffs back on my wrists. My head was still pounding, my body still shaking from the shock, but I managed to look up at her, my vision blurry with a mix of pain and fury. “You’re fucking crazy,” I spat, trying to sound tough, but it came out weaker than I wanted.

She just smiled, not even phased. “Maybe. But I’ve got a plan, and you’re gonna help me with it.” She reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone, and tossed it to me. “Call your daddy. Tell him you’re taking a couple of days off. Make it sound believable.”

I stared at her, trying to gauge if she was serious, but then she pulled out a knife and pressed it right against my crotch, the cold steel making me flinch. “Go ahead, Rudy boy,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “I’d hate to have to start cutting this early.”

I didn’t have a choice. I dialed, my fingers shaking, and when Alexander picked up, I tried to keep my voice as steady as I could. “Hey, uh, it’s me. Listen, I’m gonna be out for a couple of days. Met this girl, and… well, you know. I just want to… take some time, be a real man, like you always said.”

I cringed as I said it, knowing how pathetic it sounded, but Alexander didn’t suspect a thing. He laughed, told me to have my fun, and then hung up. I’d never felt more like a damn puppet, dancing on strings I couldn’t see.

As soon as I hung up, I glared at Silla. “There, happy? Now what?”

She just smiled that same infuriating smile. “Now, you’re gonna take me to the northern part. To Taz. I know he knows where your people are keeping Rebecca.”

The name made me freeze. Taz. If there was one person who might be able to help me get out of this mess, it was him. He was strong, mean, and he’d have no problem taking care of a little Angel problem. Maybe this wasn’t over yet. “Fine,” I said, giving her the address. “Take us there.”

She nodded, punching the address into her GPS, and I leaned back in the seat, trying to ignore the throbbing pain still radiating through my body. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, but you’re a psycho,” I muttered, not even realizing I’d said it out loud until the words slipped out.

Her head whipped around, and for a second, I saw something flicker in her eyes—surprise, maybe, or something else. Her cheeks flushed, just a little, and I felt my own face heat up, my mouth clamping shut like I’d just said something embarrassing.

I hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but damn, there was no denying she was gorgeous. Even now, with that crazy, cold look in her eyes, she was stunning. And I hated that I noticed, hated that I couldn’t stop looking at her.

She turned back to the road, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching, like she was trying not to smile. “You’re such an idiot,” she said, but there was a weird softness in her voice. “I could cut your dick off, and you’re still thinking about how I look?”

“What can I say, I’m a man of simple tastes,” I shot back, trying to sound cocky, but it came out more defensive than I intended. “But don’t think this means I’m not going to kill you the first chance I get.”

She glanced at me, her lips curling into that sly, taunting smile. “Not if I cut your dick off first.”

I flinched, my eyes narrowing. “What the fuck is your obsession with dicks and balls?” I snapped, my voice sharp, more out of frustration than anything. “Why do you keep going for that? You trying to prove something?”

She didn’t answer right away, just kept her eyes on the road, and I could see her fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Whatever her reason, it wasn’t just about hurting me. It was something deeper, something that twisted her up inside.

I didn’t get it, but I needed to. Because the more I understood her, the better my chances of figuring out a way to turn this around. And right now, I needed any advantage I could get

 

Silla POV

I could see the way his eyes flickered when I said it. The surprise, the confusion, maybe even a hint of fear. It was like I’d cracked something open inside him, and now he didn’t know what to do with it. “Don’t look at me like that,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

But he just laughed, that low, smug sound that made me want to slap it right out of his mouth. “You can’t resist my blue-eyed charm, right, Silla?” he said, and there it was—the first time he’d actually used my name, instead of throwing out insults or calling me “bitch” like I was just some nuisance. It threw me off for a second, and I hated that it did.

I caught myself, forcing a smirk. “Shut up.”

He was persistent, though, I’d give him that. “So answer me!” he pressed, leaning in as much as he could with his hands cuffed, trying to keep his tone tough, but I could hear the edge of curiosity underneath.

“Fine,” I said, letting out a slow breath. “It’s simple. I mean… there are a lot of reasons why attacking your balls and dick is fun.” I watched his eyes widen a little, like he couldn’t believe I was saying it out loud. Good. Let him squirm.

“Fun?” he spat, his lip curling in disgust. “You’re twisted. Fuck! Those are men’s… you know, most important thing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and it was dark, almost mocking. “That’s exactly why, handsome.” I said it again, and I could see the way it made him twitch, the way his eyes narrowed just a bit. “First thing first. I know exactly how important those orbs are to men, and I know damn well how sensitive your balls are. I’m good at biology, you know?” I tilted my head, studying him, like I was assessing a specimen in a lab. “Isn’t it ironic? The organ that pumps up your male hormones, the thing that’s supposed to make you strong… it’s also what makes you fragile. One little tap, and men crumble. They shout, they cry. It’s pathetic. But it’s also… satisfying.”

I let the word linger, watching his face, seeing how he processed it. I reached for the button, my finger hovering over it, and his whole body went stiff, his eyes widening in panic. He knew I wasn’t bluffing.

“Answer me,” I said, my voice dangerously soft, “or I’ll burn your dick. Is that humiliating?”

He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing, like he was struggling to find the words. It was almost funny, seeing him so flustered, so unsure. Men like him weren’t used to this kind of vulnerability, and that was exactly the point. “Jeez, can you stop that,” he finally said, his voice tight, strained. “Okay, it’s freakin’ humiliating. Satisfied?”

I leaned closer, brushing my fingers under his chin, tilting his face up so he couldn’t look away from me. “Good,” I murmured, letting my lips curl into a slow smile. “Then I love it. I love how your face contorts, how your eyes bulge, how your precious ‘manhood’ is completely in my control. Your pain, Rudy… that’s justice. Justice for everything you and your kind have done to women. For everything all of you have done.”

“You hate all of us?” he asked, and I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “The Wolves?”

“Not just The Wolves,” I said, my voice hardening. “Men. Men think they can dominate the world, but it’s a lie. Your entire domination is based on a lie, this delusion that men are strong, that you’re invincible. But I see it, Rudy boy. You’re afraid. Afraid that women will fight back, that we’ll realize our strength. That we’ll know our place is more than just giving you satisfaction, more than just breeding sons to carry on your precious name.”

I could see the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something in his eyes—anger, denial, maybe fear. I pressed on, refusing to let him look away. “Wasn’t your mom like that?” I asked, my voice cold. “A good little wife, the perfect woman who got tossed aside by your father the minute she had you. He wanted you, sure. He wanted a son. But he never wanted her, did he? He raised you to be just like him, and look where it’s gotten you. A sniveling, cuffed-up mess, begging for mercy from someone you think is weaker than you. When women rise, you and your father will be the first to be castrated. I promise you that.”

I said it straight into his eyes, holding his gaze, making sure he understood every word. I wanted to see the fear settle there, to feel it like a shiver running through him. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t playing, that I wasn’t just some angry girl with a vendetta. This was bigger than him, bigger than any one man.

But then, I saw it—the flicker of confusion, the way his brow furrowed. He didn’t get it, not fully. So I leaned in closer, my voice dropping, turning soft, almost vulnerable. “And it’s not helping,” I said, my tone catching, just a little, “that one of your men… did the unthinkable to me.”

For the first time, I let a bit of my mask slip, just enough to let him see the hurt beneath the anger. I could see it hit him, like he hadn’t expected it, and he stiffened, his eyes searching mine for something, anything, that made sense. Maybe he thought this was just about power, just about control, but it was more than that. It was personal. And I needed him to know that every bit of pain I was putting him through was just a fraction of what I felt, of what I’d carry with me long after this night was over.

I didn’t want his sympathy. I wanted his fear, his understanding that this was far from over. Because I wasn’t just here for me—I was here for every woman who’d been broken by men like him. And I was going to make damn sure he felt it.

 

Rudy POV

I didn’t know what to say. For the first time, I was completely out of my depth, and it made my skin crawl. Silla was just sitting there, looking at me, and it wasn’t the cold, smug look she’d had before. It was something else—something softer, more vulnerable, and it made me uncomfortable. She asked me, her voice barely a whisper, “Why do men do that?”

I felt my chest tighten. I knew exactly what she was asking, but I didn’t want to go there. I wanted to brush it off, turn it into a joke, but there was no dodging it. So I just said what I’d been taught, what I believed. “Well, women are born to satisfy us, and when they don’t give it, we take.” I said it flatly, without any hesitation, because that’s the way it was, right? That’s what I’d grown up seeing, what my father and every other man around me had drilled into my head. But when I said it out loud, it felt… off.

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw something change in her face. Her eyes, which had been sharp and hard, suddenly softened, and she looked… hurt. She didn’t even reach for the button, didn’t make a move to squeeze me again. Instead, her eyes welled up, and before I knew it, she was crying, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

I’d seen women cry before, but it was usually because I’d made them cry. This was different. It wasn’t because of something I’d done, not directly. It was like my words had hit some deep, raw nerve, and I didn’t know how to handle that. I panicked, trying to sound harsh, trying to snap her out of it. “Don’t freaking cry,” I said, but my voice came out weaker than I wanted, like I was the one who was losing control.

She lifted her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, and looked at me with this mix of sadness and anger. “So you’d prefer if I press the button or squeeze your balls?” she said, her voice cracking, but there was still a dangerous edge there.

“Stop, okay!” I snapped, louder than I meant to. “I’m sorry that happened to you, alright? But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going to sympathize with you. Men need to take what they want.” I thought maybe if I doubled down, she’d see that I wasn’t backing down, that I wasn’t going to be shaken. But even as I said it, the words tasted bitter, like I was forcing myself to believe them.

She laughed, a sharp, humorless sound that sent a chill down my spine. “Oh, I will take what I want, your dick.”

I felt a grin tug at my lips despite everything, the tension twisting into something almost playful. “You want to suck it?” I shot back, leaning into my usual smirk, trying to claw back any bit of control in this messed-up situation.

“You still trying to be smart, huh?” she said, her eyes narrowing, but there was something behind them—a flicker of amusement, maybe. Like she was daring me to keep pushing.

“You can’t joke, can you?” I said, tilting my head, trying to read her. “I figured you could use a laugh. Lighten up, you know?”

She looked away for a moment, then turned back to me, her expression hardening again. “Stop. We’re enemies, but I’ll take my words back. I will let you go after this.”

For a second, I felt relief, a moment of calm in the middle of all this chaos. But I couldn’t resist messing with her, just a little. “Not if you wanna be my wife,” I said, flashing her a grin, like this was just some stupid, normal conversation and not a life-or-death standoff.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “So you want a wife who can cut your dick off anytime?”

The realization hit me, and I felt my face flush as the implications of what I’d said actually sank in. “Never mind,” I muttered, suddenly feeling like a complete idiot.

There was this weird, awkward silence that settled between us, like we’d both said too much and didn’t know how to backpedal. I’d never thought I’d be sitting here, cuffed, my balls literally in her control, cracking jokes about marriage. But there was something about her, this fierce, unbreakable thing, that made it impossible not to keep poking, even when I knew it might end with me screaming again.

I glanced at her, and she was still staring at me, but it wasn’t with that same cold, calculating look anymore. There was something softer there, something I hadn’t seen before. And for a moment, I forgot about everything—the pain, the cuffs, the danger—because all I could think about was how this girl, this crazy, messed-up girl, had somehow gotten under my skin. And I didn’t know whether to laugh or be terrified by that.

 

Silla POV

I kept my eyes on the road, the empty stretch of asphalt stretching out ahead like it was leading straight into the mouth of hell. Not a soul in sight—just the way I liked it. No normal people would dare drive this road; it was gang territory, and everyone knew it. It was just me, the dark road, and my captive prince, cuffed and trapped beside me. Perfect.

I was trying to focus, but then Rudy decided he just had to interrupt my peace. “Hey, pretty,” he said, his voice all smooth, like he thought I’d forgotten he was my prisoner.

“What?” I snapped, barely glancing at him.

“I wanna pee,” he said, casual as if he were asking for a damn cup of tea.

“Pee in your pants,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.

“That’ll stink,” he argued, like he was stating some kind of undeniable fact. “It’s nature calling.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Fine.” I jerked the car to a stop on the side of the road, gravel crunching under the tires as I yanked the keys out of the ignition. Knife and remote still in hand, I got out and stalked around to his side, opening the door. “Go on, then,” I said, arching an eyebrow when he looked at me with that stupid, infuriatingly handsome grin.

“How can I pee with handcuffs?” he said, tilting his head like he was so damn clever.

I sighed, more dramatically this time, like he was a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Yeah, yeah, fine.” I fished out the key and unlocked his cuffs, my eyes narrowing as I did. “We’ll be at The Wolves’ place soon, so I guess I’ll let you have this one moment of freedom. Don’t get any ideas.” I didn’t even bother stepping back, still holding the knife, ready to make sure he didn’t pull anything stupid.

Rudy unzipped his pants, and I casually brought the knife closer, letting the blade graze against his thigh. “Don’t forget,” I whispered, my lips curving into a wicked smile.

“STOP THAT! I can’t pee under pressure!” he blurted, his voice cracking just a little, and I couldn’t help but snicker.

“You can’t pee under pressure?” I mocked, giving him a slow, exaggerated eye roll. “That’s ridiculous. I’ll count to twenty, and you better finish by then, or…” I slid the knife a little closer, just to make a point.

“FINE, FINE!” he said, panicking, his hands trembling as he tried to focus on the task. I could see the way he was glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, all nervous and flustered. And I just had to laugh.

“Look at you, handsome,” I said, the word rolling off my tongue like a taunt. “You’re pathetic. A mess. Stupid. Can’t even take a piss without looking like a scared little boy.” I couldn’t stop myself, the words just kept coming, sharp and cutting. “And, honestly? That dick of yours is pretty big, but that doesn’t make you any less pathetic.”

I started counting, slowly, dragging it out just to mess with him. “Five… four… three… two…”

Right as I was about to hit one, he rushed to pull his zipper back up, and then—oh, God. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. The tip of his dick got caught in the zipper, and Rudy let out this high-pitched scream, like a little boy who just scraped his knee.

“DADDY!!! IT HURTS!!!!” he wailed, his voice echoing in the empty night, and I swear, I almost dropped the knife from laughing so hard.

“AHAHAHAHAHA!” I doubled over, clutching my stomach as I tried to catch my breath. “DADDY’S LITTLE BOY! You’re more pathetic than I thought, prince!” I couldn’t stop the laughter, couldn’t stop the taunts that spilled out. “What, you need Daddy to come kiss it better? Is that what you’re gonna do when we get back to The Wolves, huh? Cry and whine to Alexander about how the big bad Angel hurt your poor, precious dick?”

Rudy was still doubled over, trying to free himself, and the look of pure, pained panic on his face was priceless. “Look at you,” I said, gasping between laughs. “Big, tough prince of The Wolves, but you can’t even manage to zip your pants without crying for your daddy. You’re not just a mess, Rudy—you’re a fucking disaster.”

I stepped closer, bending down so I could look him right in the eye, my grin wide and wicked. “You’re a joke, you know that? All those men back at The Den, they look up to you, think you’re some kind of king. But if they could see you now, all teary-eyed and squealing, they’d be laughing their asses off. And you know what?” I leaned in closer, whispering right next to his ear. “I’m enjoying every second of it.”

I straightened up, still grinning, and tapped the blade of the knife against his zipper. “Now hurry up and get yourself together, little prince, or I’ll have to finish the job for you. And trust me, you really don’t want that.”

[I used AI to enhance the style and grammar. The idea, plot, description and dialogue are mine]