Damian

She kneels on the marble floor, wrists bound, her dress torn at the hem, her body shaking from something deeper than just fear. It’s betrayal.

I take my time watching her—watching how she struggles to hold herself together, how she refuses to look at me. Still waiting for him.

Pathetic.

"You really thought he would choose you?" My voice is smooth, almost amused as I swirl the dark liquid in my glass. "That he would defy me, throw away everything for you?"

She flinches at my words, her nails digging into her palms. She doesn’t want to believe it.

I smirk. "Shall I replay it for you?"

Her breathing stutters.

I pull out my phone and press a single button. His voice fills the vast, empty room.

"If I give her to you… you’ll spare the city?"

Silence.

Then, my own voice, calm and certain. "You have my word."

And then, the final dagger.

"Then take her."

The recording ends.

Her head snaps up, eyes wide, glossy. Shattered.

I let the moment sink in. Let the silence be louder than any words I could say.

Her lips part, but no sound comes out. She looks lost—small. Like a bird with clipped wings, trapped in a golden cage.

"He… wouldn’t…" she whispers, barely audible.

I crouch in front of her, lifting her chin with two fingers. She doesn’t pull away. Maybe she doesn’t have the strength to. Maybe she just knows there’s nowhere left to run.

"But he did," I murmur, my thumb brushing against her lower lip. "And now… you’re mine."

A tear slips down her cheek. I catch it, almost tenderly, my touch lingering.

"Shh," I soothe, my voice dropping into something warmer, something dangerous. "Don’t cry, little dove. He may have left you… but I won’t."

Her breath hitches, confused, vulnerable. Perfect.

I lean in, my lips just beside her ear. "I always take care of what’s mine."

And she is. Whether she realizes it yet or not.