Dark Wish (House of Sin 1)

Because my father is one powerful man. I’ve known that since I was a little boy. Men from all over the world would visit this giant mansion just to get some private time with my father. Not just any men, but rich ones. Ones who ruled the world.

And no one knew, of course. No one but us.

When I looked in the papers or online, no one would ever mention a word about these men all meeting here in secret. But I knew. And I relished in their power, wondering what it would take to get to where they were.

But what struck me most of all was how they all revered my father.

What was it about my father that had all these powerful men entranced to the point of them signing over whatever he asked for to take a glimpse at what he does?

It only intrigued me more.

And now that I am finally here with him as he towers over me, I can’t help but feel grateful for the opportunity I’ve been given. But what will I find behind those doors?

“Are you ready?” he asks me.

I nod, but my back is sweaty, and my knees feel like they’re about to buckle on me.

His hand rests on my shoulder, steady, squeezing tight as though to tell me to stay calm and be vigilant all at the same time.

“It’s going to be hard. Unimaginably hard. But no matter what you see, feel, or hear, you must stay, and you must persist. It is the only way to learn what our family does. What we are. Do you understand?”

I nod again, but I can barely contain my own mix of excitement and fear as adrenaline pumps through my veins and makes my toes and fingers jittery.

“All right,” he says, and he turns around to face the door. He casually fishes a key from his pocket and stuffs it into the lock, turning it sideways. One final glance over his shoulder and I’m unable to look away.

“Go inside,” he says.

He steps aside, allowing me to get closer. I swallow and press my hand against the door. It creaks as it opens, and a bright light blinds me at first, so I cover my eyes.

“Don’t look away,” my father growls as he steps behind me, keeping the door open but also blocking the exit with his body.

He turns the knob on a button, and the light dims.

On the other end of the room is a man, strapped to a standing bed, facing the light.

I suck in a breath as my father says, “Go on.”

I move inside with determination even though the dread sinking into my shoes makes them feel weighed down. The man on the bed groans, and I pause for a second, but my father’s encouraging gaze compels me to push on.

But when I finally get to meet this man bound by leather straps, my heart almost stops beating.

His face is covered in scars, his mouth sealed tight with tape, his eyelids forced to stay open as he’s been staring into the lamp for God knows how long, unable to look away, causing his eyes to singe and make him go blind.

Panic floods my veins.

“He’s going blind!” I yell at my father, who approaches me.

“Yes, I know, boy,” he muses as he laces his fingers over my shoulder and looks me dead in the eyes. “That’s the whole point.”

His words reverberate over and over in my head as I come to terms with the fact my father did this intentionally.

My whole body trembles as the man turns his head to look at me even though he’s most likely lost his sight already. He groans again, jerking against his restraints, and it makes me jolt.

“Don’t be scared. He can’t hurt you,” my father says, pointing at the leather straps around the man’s arms and legs.

I’m not scared. I’m surprised by the sheer magnitude of my father’s horrendous treatment of this man. Why would he do this? “I don’t understand. Why would you tie someone up like this and make them go blind?”

He grabs my shoulder and forces me to stay put and watch the man suffer. “That’s it. Let it make you uncomfortable. Let it ooze into your veins until you can no longer deny the heinous atrocities committed here.”

This is what he wanted to show me?

All these years I spent excitedly waiting … for this?

A man suffering the most horrendous pain imaginable?

I shake my head. “What is wrong with you?”

My father leans over my shoulder, his lips thin and curled upward as he whispers into my ear, “You’re asking the wrong question.”

“Then tell me why,” I retort.

“Exactly. Why? Why did this man deserve this pain and punishment?”

I swallow again around what feels like a ball of wool impossible to untangle. “What did he do?”

“Good …” My father smiles. “Now you’re getting where you’re supposed to go.”