Marked by Damien
Eva lay curled beneath her duvet, her body sinking deep into the mattress as if it were trying to swallow her whole. The noise around her, the laughter from the television, the hum of life outside her window, faded into the background. She couldn't bring herself to go to work. She couldn't even drag her feet out of the room. Everything felt strange.
Her body was too heavy, her limbs sore as though she'd been run over by a storm. Her bones ached. Her heart? That was another story entirely.
She wanted to cry but didn't even have the energy. Every inch of her was in pain. Damien hadn't shown her mercy. Not even a flicker of restraint. He claimed every inch of her, fiercely, possessively, so much so that, at some point, she could no longer feel her own body. Just the dizzying whirlwind of him, his strength, his heat, his weight.
She lost count of how many times he had her, how long it went on. All she remembered was surrendering completely, body and soul, until everything blurred and vanished into darkness.
She never imagined he was that kind of a man. All this time, she thought he was soft, maybe even weak, especially after seeing his interaction with Seraphina the other day in his office. But it was obvious she was totally wrong about him, she was a living witness to his sexual vigor. She felt scammed. That man was far from gentle. He was intense. Powerful. He'd stretched her limits until her mind faded into blankness.
She must have fainted. That was the only explanation, because the next thing she recalled was waking up in the pale hush of morning light. Naked. Weak. Drained.
Every bone in her body ached, and though she tried to get up, her limbs betrayed her. Her legs wobbled. Her voice cracked.
She wanted to go to work. She really did. But her body refused. Even lifting her phone felt like carrying a block of stone. She didn't even call the company. So she stayed curled in her bed, praying, desperately, that Damien shouldn't remember a thing.
After all, he'd been drunk. Very drunk. That was the thin hope she held unto, her saving grace.
She told herself it meant nothing. She would pretend it never happened. That was the safest thing to do. The only way to survive this tangled web she'd spun.
And yet…
Even with the bruises of the night before on her skin, and her pride in pieces, there was a strange warmth nestled in her chest. A fluttering ache of happiness. Peace.
Because no matter how wrong it all was, how broken, how stolen, she had always believed her first time belonged to him.
She had wanted to give herself to him two years ago, back when they were still an item, when their hearts still beat in the same rhythm. But he never took her then. But after last night, something felt... right.
Now, though, despite the betrayal, despite the codes she'd stolen, despite the secrets between them… something inside her whispered that maybe this was how it was always meant to be.
Because if for anything, that's the least she could give him. If it weren't for those stolen codes, her family wouldn't still be breathing. And for that alone, she owed him everything, even the last piece of herself.
Because the truth is, ever since that day she ran away from him after the stolen codes, a part of her had stayed locked, sealed tight like a vault, waiting.
Maybe waiting for him.
She'd vowed never to give herself to anyone else. Not until she saw him again.
Even though it seemed like an impossible dream, it did happen. And now he was here again. He didn't recognize her face, but her body remembered. Her soul remembered. And truth be told, she'd wanted him again. Silently. Secretly.
Maybe that explained the recurring dreams, the flashes of memory, the stolen moments of things that transpired in her sleep. Strange moments of kissing him, night after night. Maybe this was fate's cruel way of giving her closure.
And now that it's done, maybe, just maybe, she could finally let him go.
...Or so she thought.
A sniffle escaped her as she shivered slightly, her skin clammy and hot. Fever. Stress. Or maybe the aftermath of Damien's passion. She used to be strong. But lately... her health had been failing.
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, dragging her pillow closer like a shield, trying her best to drift back to sleep.
Out in the living room, Victor slammed the door shut behind him. He walked in to find Bob lounging on the couch, eyes locked on a video game. Bob leaped up when he saw Victor and greeted him excitedly, but Victor's energy was off. He was clearly burning with something, rage, maybe.
"Bro Vic!" Bob grinned, throwing himself into a hug.
Victor returned the hug absentmindedly. His aura was sharp, his face unreadable, but Bob could tell. Something was wrong.
"You okay?" Bob asked cautiously.
Victor didn't answer directly. Instead,
"Where's your sister?" Victor asked, his voice tight, barely holding back the fury bubbling beneath.
Bob blinked at him, confused. "She's in her room, sleeping, I guess."
"Sleeping? At this time? She didn't go to work?" He asked with a frown.
Bob scratched his head. "I honestly don't know what's wrong with her today. She came back really late last night, I can't really tell. I just woke up this morning to find her like that, she looked weak, and she's stayed locked up in her room ever since. I think she might be sick or something."
Victor didn't respond. He just reached into his pocket, pulled out a few dollar bills, and handed them to Bob.
"Here. Go buy yourself something alright?"
Bob's eyes lit up with joy. "Thanks, Bro Vic!" he chirped, grabbing his shoes and racing out the door, clueless.
Victor waited until he was sure the boy was gone. The moment the door slammed shut, Victor's face darkened completely.
Without wasting a second, he stormed down the hallway toward Ana's bedroom like a man possessed.
His heart was thundering. His fists clenched.
He didn't knock.
"Ana! Ana!! Where the hell are you?!" he barked, shoving her bedroom door open with furious thud it almost came off the hinges.
"Ana! Ana!"
Eva jerked awake, eyes squinting from the sudden burst of light. Her eyes wide with panic, barely awake.
Victor's glare was wild. "What the hell are you doing in bed?! Huh? Oh, so now you're pulling the sick girl act to escape what you did?" he barked.
"You think lying there like some delicate flower is going to save you from my anger?! After humiliating me like that in public? After that stunt you pulled in front of everyone? And to top it off, you had him attack my company?!" he roared.
He stormed to her bed and yanked the duvet off her, exposing her bare legs and part of her thigh. She winced, instinctively covering herself, but not before Victor's sharp eyes caught something, something that froze him.
His eyes locked on a dark mark just above her collarbone. He blinked. "What the hell is that?"
He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. "What... is that on your neck?"
Without waiting, he seized her wrist and yanked her arm toward him, revealing more of her skin.
There were more. Faint, fresh, and vivid. Bruises, no, hickeys all over her skin.
Faint ones. Deep ones. New and old. Tracing a map of chaos across her body.
Victor's breath caught in his throat. As his breathing turned ragged. His fists trembled.
The realization hit him like a slap to the face.
His head swirled. A burning heat filled his chest as realization dawned. Someone had touched her. Someone had taken what he thought was his.
And not just anyone.
It had to be him.
Damien.
The rage that gripped Victor now was no longer human. It was volcanic.
"What? Ana… you've been sleeping around?!"
Before she could even gather herself to respond, he yanked her hand, with a strong pull she felt her hands was going to fall off. She almost fell off the bed and she gasp.
"Who was it?! Who touched you?! Say it! Say it now before I lose my mind!" His voice cracked with rage.
"V-Victor, wait..." she stammered, as she managed to release her hands wincing in pain.
"Are you deaf? Start talking Ana, who f#cken did this to you?"
Victor's voice tore through the room like a thunderclap. Before Ana could even blink, he lunged forward her, his grip iron-tight as he yanked her off the bed and slammed her to the floor. And Ana almost cried.
"Tell me now! Who did this to you?" he bellowed, eyes wild. "Do you think I won't kill you if you keep silent?! Who touched you, Ana?! WHO?!"
"I–I... Vic, wait—"
"Wait?! Really?! I waited two whole years for you! How dare you, Ana? I waited two damn years for you! Two solid years of chasing after you like a madman, watching over you. I loved you! I stood by you, protected you, begged for you, and this... this is how you repay me? By spreading your legs for some guy?!
As if your rejection is not enough, you could actually do this to me? You didn't even consider everything I have been doing for you. My emotions, my feelings!You didn't fricken care.This is how you pay me back?!" His voice broke. "You gave yourself to him, didn't you?! Damien?!"
He seized her arms and shook her violently, his rage boiling over. Ana winced, trying to pull away.
"Let go of me!" she cried out, her voice breaking, but that only fueled his fury.
But instead of letting go, Victor's palm flew, crack!
His palm landed across her face with a deafening crack, so loud the sound echoed like thunder in the room. The force of the slap knocked her to the ground. Her cheek burned. Her vision blurred as her eyes widened with shock.