Elena
The clink of silver against porcelain echoed in my ears long after Damian left the dining hall. My hands shook as I set the fork down. I had barely touched the food on my plate, but eating felt impossible with him watching me, his eyes like a predator studying prey.
He had been unnervingly calm during breakfast, speaking little, but every word carried the same message: you belong to me now.
I wasn't chained, yet the walls of his mansion pressed in around me like a gilded cage. I couldn't breathe.
I pressed my napkin against my mouth, holding back a sob. I couldn't let myself crumble here—not when my entire life depended on what I did next.
Running away from my part-time job yesterday had been nothing compared to this. I used to think losing that job would be the end of me, but now… that worry felt laughable. My boss had always wanted to replace me anyway, eager to remind me that orphans like me should be grateful for scraps.
If I didn't go back tomorrow, I'd lose the only income I had. My rent, my food—gone. But sitting here, trapped in Damian Moretti's estate, I realized none of that mattered anymore. The life I had before ended the moment I stumbled into that alley.
I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes. I had no one to call. No mother. No father. No siblings waiting to notice my absence. No friend who would care if I didn't come home tonight.
That truth pressed down on me like a weight. Maybe that's why I thought I had a chance. If no one would come for me, then I had to come for myself.
I pushed back my chair slowly, praying the sound didn't echo too loudly. The marble floor was cold beneath my bare feet, but I moved quietly, heart hammering with every step.
The mansion was enormous—too enormous. Endless hallways stretched like veins, lined with oil paintings whose eyes seemed to follow me. I had no map, no idea where the guards stationed themselves. But somewhere in this fortress, there had to be a door.
A way out.
I slipped past the first corner, my breath caught in my throat. Silence. No one there. I pressed forward, hugging the walls, avoiding the faint pools of light spilling from chandeliers.
Each step carried me further from the dining hall, further from him.
I repeated the words like a mantra: You can do this. Just keep moving. Just keep moving.
Then I saw it.
At the end of a long corridor, light gleamed against glass panes—tall double doors leading outside. My chest tightened. Hope. Real hope.
I broke into a run, my pulse drumming in my ears. My lungs burned, but I didn't care. My freedom was right there, just a few more steps—
My fingers brushed the cold metal handle.
And then another hand slammed down above mine, pinning it still.
The shock ripped a scream from my throat as I spun around.
Damian.
He loomed above me, taller, broader, more terrifying than ever up close. His tailored suit didn't wrinkle, not even after moving silently enough to catch me like this. His expression wasn't loud with fury—no, that would've been easier to handle.
It was quiet. Controlled. Deadly.
His eyes locked on me, burning with something that made my legs weaken.
"I warned you," he said, voice low and sharp, the kind of tone that slid under your skin and stayed there.
My chest heaved as I pressed my back against the glass. "You can't keep me here," I whispered, though the words came out fractured, more plea than defiance. "I'm not yours to—"
"Enough." His voice cut clean through mine. Not loud. Not violent. But absolute.
I froze, my breath catching. His hand was still braced above my head, caging me in. The heat of his presence pressed down on me, suffocating and magnetic all at once.
I wanted to shove him away, to scream, to claw my way out. But my body betrayed me, trembling so violently I could barely keep upright.
He leaned closer, his lips near my ear. "Do you know what happens to people who disobey me, Elena?"
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. My lips trembled. "You'll kill me."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us. Then, slowly, his mouth curved—not into a smile, but something darker.
"No," he murmured. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be in the ground." His voice dropped lower. "But you don't get to run from me."
My breath hitched.
He straightened, withdrawing his hand from the door but not his gaze. His eyes pinned me in place like chains, and even though his body wasn't touching mine anymore, I still felt trapped.
He turned slightly, signaling with the faintest nod. Footsteps echoed behind me—two men stepping from the shadows I hadn't noticed before. Guards. Watching me the whole time.
Hopelessness crashed over me.
I'd failed.
As the guards moved closer, Damian's voice followed, smooth and final. "Take her back inside."
I bit back a sob as the men gripped my arms and pulled me away from the door, away from the thin sliver of sunlight I almost touched.
And as I glanced back one last time, Damian was still standing there, his eyes never leaving me.
Cold. Possessive. Certain.
Like a man who had just confirmed what I feared most—
I wasn't going anywhere.