ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond-Chapter 162: Whipped

Chapter 162: Whipped
Chapter 162
KATYA POV
The first strike had been a shock. The rest were a blur of white-hot agony. I was on the floor, my face pressed against the cold, expensive carpet that smelled of Marina’s cloying perfume.
I had lost count of the time. I had lost count of the strikes. The only thing that existed was the rhythmic whistle-crack of the wood and the explosion of fire across my skin.
I was wailing, the sound muffled by the floor, my eyes streaming until I couldn’t see anything but distorted shapes of white and gold.
Whack
.
I jerked, a fresh sob breaking out of my throat. My lower lip was bleeding, almost numb from how hard I had been biting down on it.
Trying so hard to suppress the screams—to not give them the satisfaction—but the pain was too much.
It was a living thing, tearing at me. Gina and Marina were relentless. Marina wasn’t even the one holding the cane, but she was the one giving the orders.
I could hear her voice, calm and melodic, punctuated by the sound of my own suffering. "Again, Gina. She’s still moving too much. She hasn’t learned the lesson of stillness yet."
I curled myself into a tight ball, a desperate, instinctive movement to shield my stomach and my face.
Forcing my back to take the brunt of it, shielding my vulnerable sides as best I could.
Whack
. The cane bit into the backs of my thighs, and I let out a choked, broken cry. I had been so stupid.
I thought Marina was just going to threaten me. I thought the ’Donna’ title was a bluff to scare me into silence. I never imagined this.
"Please," I gasped into the carpet, my voice a shredded ruin. "Please... stop..."
"Did you hear that, Gina?" Marina’s voice came from somewhere above me. I could see the hem of her pristine white dress near my head. "She’s still talking. She still thinks she has a voice in this house."
I felt a hand grip my hair, yanking my head back. I gasped as my neck strained, my eyes forced to meet Marina’s.
She looked beautiful. Not a hair out of place. She looked down at me with the kind of detached curiosity one might show a crushed insect.
"You are nothing, Katya," she whispered, her breath smelling of mint and expensive tea. "You are a shadow. And shadows don’t have eyes. They don’t have memories. And they certainly don’t have the Don’s attention."
She let go, my face hitting the floor again with a dull thud. "One more for the road, Gina," Marina commanded, her tone bored.
"Make it count. I want her to remember the way the floor feels. It’s the only place she belongs."
I saw Gina’s shadow lengthen over me. I saw her shadow arm rise, the broken silhouette of the cane poised high.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my entire body shaking so hard I thought my bones would rattle apart. I waited for the final strike. I waited for the wood to split my skin again.
But the strike never came.
Instead, the air in the room seemed to vanish. A sudden, violent pressure change made my ears pop.
There was a sound—a sound like a mountain crumbling—and then, the most terrifying silence I had ever experienced.
I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t. I just stayed there, curled in my own blood and tears, waiting for the end.
But the final blow never fell.The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. My ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine that drowned out the world.
Beneath that whine, I could hear the sounds of a struggle—not a physical one, but the sound of air being sucked out of the room.
The heavy double doors hadn’t been kicked in; they had been opened with a quiet, terrifying grace.
I was shaking so hard my teeth clattered against each other. I couldn’t see, my vision swimming in tears and the red haze of pain, but I felt a presence.
It wasn’t the volatile, explosive heat of Romeo. It was something colder. Older. Rapid Italian suddenly erupted around me.
I didn’t understand a single word. My illiterate mind searched for a familiar hook, but there was nothing but sharp vowels and rolling consonants that sounded like falling stones.
The voices were overlapping—Marina’s high, frantic pitch, Gina’s stammering whimpers, and then, a third voice.
It was harsh filled with worry and rage. It sliced through the other two like a razor through silk.
Nonna. I didn’t need to understand the language to feel the authority. I felt the weight of her presence move into the center of the room.
The scent of lavender replaced the cloying peppermint of Marina’s perfume. I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I flinched violently, a sob escaping my throat as I tried to crawl deeper into the carpet. The touch wasn’t a strike, but it wasn’t a comfort either.
It was a check. A measurement of the damage. The Italian grew louder, sharper.
Marina was shouting now, her voice thick with a desperate, ugly entitlement. l
She sounded like she was defending herself, pointing at me, her shadow dancing across my closed eyelids as she gestured wildly.
I could hear the word "Don" and "Donna" repeated like a prayer. Then, the sharp crack of a hand hitting a face.
Silence returned, even more brutal than before.
I felt the person beside me shift. A shadow fell over me, shielding me from the morning light. I finally managed to crack one eye open, my lashes matted with salt and blood.
The room was a blur of gold and white, but right in front of my face was the hem of a dark, heavy skirt.
Nonna didn’t look down at me. She was standing over me, her back to me, facing Marina and Gina.
She looked like a monolith. Gina was already on her knees, the cane discarded on the rug like a piece of trash.
Marina was clutching her cheek, her flawless white gown suddenly looking like a shroud, her eyes wide with a shock that bordered on madness.
Nonna spoke again. One single, short sentence in Italian. It sounded like a sentence of death.
Gina scrambled backward on all fours, her breath coming in panicked hitches, until she hit the wall and stayed there, trembling.
Then, Nonna turned. She looked down at me. Her face was a mask of cold. There was no pity in her eyes, just like how I want it to be but there was something else.
She looked at the blood on the carpet, then at my ruined back, then at my face. She reached out, her fingers catching a strand of my hair and tucking it behind my ear.
"Katya," she whispered.
My name was the only thing I understood as I fell into darkness.
††
Poor Katya, lol
What do you think is going to happen next?