Love Unspoken

Walter observed with a slight smirk as Quinn methodically shed her garments.

She then positioned herself facing the wall, as though she yearned to disappear into its cold, unyielding surface. Her raven hair tumbled down her back, its darkness a stark contrast against her porcelain skin. "Pants," he commanded.

Quinn's spine rigidified at the command. Her fingers, tightly gripping her arms, blanched. Her lithe, fragile form trembled within the water's icy embrace.

She had relinquished all hope of salvation.

For she knew, from countless pleas and cries for help, that no one would come. No one had ever extended a helping hand, not even a mere gesture of sympathy.

She was no longer the naive child of her past, protected by others.

Ulysses was gone.

Alexander had withdrawn his affection.

Her world had transformed into a barren wasteland, devoid of life and warmth. Even the sole person who had once cared for her as a friend was now under Walter's control. What was the point of her struggles, her dignity?

Quinn surrendered. She ceased her resistance. 'Whatever Walter desires, I'll comply.

'If he commands me to strip, I'll strip. If he wishes for my death, I'll meet it head-on.

for my pitiful

'It doesn't matter.'

exhausted, or the bathroom's chill had seeped into her bones, or maybe

the world around her began to spin. A

form wavered, and she

...

third day since Quinn's disappearance, Kyle was

the villa's courtyard,

was consumed by worry, Alexander remained the picture of calm. He continued his work as if nothing had changed, returning home as if Quinn

seemed even more diligent than before, almost making it a point to return home

a

for over ten minutes, the villa's door

his gaze distant. After a cursory glance at Kyle, he made his way

a glance at Alexander through the

seat, his head slightly

silence. He started the car

polite greeting before stepping into the elevator together. Walter took a second look at Alexander, breaking

bother finding something that never truly