#after the inevitable torture ofc 😋

[childrenofcain-if]

Say what will happen if MC got kidnapped, and the kidnapper taunts Elias that if he didn't give them a certain amount of money within the given time period they will send one of MC's fingers for every hour that exceeds that time limit.

I'm curious what type of person Elias is when stressed or threatened, can you tell us Author?

elias sat at his desk, the heavy wooden surface cluttered with papers he’d long forgotten about. the blinds were drawn, leaving the room dim, with only a sliver of light cutting through the dust-filled air. the silence was thick, and so damn oppressive that it wrapped around him like a shroud. his phone lay in the center of the desk, an inert thing, but it held his gaze like a viper poised to strike.

when it finally rang, the sound was almost a relief, breaking the tension that had settled in his chest like a stone. he reached for it slowly, the way one might approach a wild animal, carefully, deliberately. the cold metal of the phone was familiar in his hand, but today it felt different, heavy with the weight of what was about to happen.

he didn’t say anything when he answered. he just waited, his breath quiet, controlled, like the air before a storm.

“hello there, sir,” the voice on the other end was too smooth, too calm, like the surface of a dark lake that hid something monstrous below. “i believe we have something you’re missing.”

the words were almost a whisper, but they hit elias like a punch to the gut. he swallowed hard, forcing the rising panic back down where it belonged. he couldn’t afford to lose control, not now.

“what do you want?” his voice was steady, but underneath it was a barely-contained tremor of rage, of fear. he gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles going white.

“money,” the voice replied, as if it were asking for something as trivial as a cup of sugar. “how does 50 million sound? and i think twenty-four hours should be enough time to gather it.”

elias’s mind was already racing, calculating, planning, but there was a part of him that couldn’t move past the icy fear crawling up his spine.

“and if i don’t?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

there was a pause, a soft, deadly silence on the other end of the line, and then the voice came back, even colder than before. “then we’ll start sending pieces. a finger, perhaps. every hour you’re late.”

it was like a knife to the heart, the pain so sharp and sudden that elias almost couldn’t breathe. his vision narrowed, tunneling in on the phone, on the voice that was now laughing softly in his ear. he wanted to throw it, to smash it against the wall, but he forced himself to stay calm, to focus.

“put them on the phone,” he demanded, his voice low, almost a growl. there was no room for negotiation in his tone, no space for argument.

the kidnapper laughed again, a sound that made elias’s skin crawl. “you’re not really in a position to make demands, sir. but since i’m feeling generous…”

there was a rustling sound, muffled voices, and then a new voice came on the line, shaky, scared, so small it made elias’s heart ache.

“dad?”

for a moment, the world stopped. the air in the room grew so thick that it pressed down on him from all sides. he could barely think, barely breathe, but he forced the words out, desperate to hold onto the connection.

“i’m here, little apple,” elias said, his voice cracking just a little. “i’m here, and i’m going to fix this, okay? just—.”

before he could say more, the kidnapper was back, the cruel smirk evident even through the phone. “that’s enough of that,” the voice said, and then, almost as an afterthought, “twenty-four hours. don’t be late.”

the line went dead.

for a long moment, elias just sat there, staring at the phone in his hand. the silence in the room felt heavier now, thick with the weight of everything he hadn’t said, of everything he needed to do.

he stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, and began to pace, his mind racing, turning over every possible scenario, every contingency.

he couldn’t think about the fear, about the trembling voice that still echoed in his ears. he couldn’t think about what would happen if he failed. he just had to move, to act, to find a way to bring the little light of his life back.

as the hours ticked by, elias made call after call, his voice sharp, each word an authoritative command. there was no room for error, no space for hesitation. he needed results, and he needed them now.

the clock on the wall kept ticking, each second dragging him closer to the deadline. each tick echoed like a heartbeat, a reminder that time was running out. but beneath the fear, beneath the anxiety gnawing at him, there was something else—a fire, a cold, burning determination that had gotten him through every single trial before this one.

he would get you back. there was no other option.

as dawn began to break, elias made one final call. it was to the man he always kept as a backup, the last option when nothing else gave him the result he was looking for.

elias’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but there was a steel in it that hadn’t been there before. “make them pay,” he said, each word like a stone dropped into a still pond. “make them dearly regret even being born.”

there was a pause on the other end, a soft intake of breath, and then, “it will be done.”

he hung up the phone, his hand shaking slightly as he placed it back on the desk. the room was still, the only sound the ticking of the clock, marking the seconds until he could inevitably bring you home. and as he stared out at the pale morning light, a single thought blinking in his mind.

he was going to burn the city to find you, and no one would dare to stand in his way.