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The buzz of my phone cut through the suffocating silence. I glanced down, dread pooling in my stomach like a heavy stone. The screen lit up with a message from an unknown number, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

Did you get my gift?

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper.

I knew with terrifying certainty that this wasn’t just a passing threat or a moment of anger. It was an affirmation—his twisted way of claiming me and reminding me that there was no escape from his world.

My fingers trembled as I fought against the urge to reply, to confront him about what he had done.

But what could I say? How could I explain how deeply shaken I felt without sounding like a frightened child?

It wasn’t just fear; it was despair creeping in, gnawing at me like a rat burrowing into rotting wood.

I paced across my room, back and forth like a caged animal. The walls seemed to close in on me, pressing down until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Damien had crossed every line imaginable, and yet here I was, trapped by his possessiveness and power.

I wanted to scream—to tell him that this wasn’t okay—that I wasn’t okay—but each time I opened my mouth to say something, silence filled the space instead. How could he do this? How could he turn something so violent into his idea of affection?

The message buzzed again beneath my fingertips, pulling me back into reality where everything felt too surreal to comprehend.

You liked it.

A wave of nausea rolled over me as his words echoed in my mind. He didn’t care about boundaries; he only cared about control—and somehow, he believed this was how love worked.

I pressed my hands against my temples, trying to will away the thoughts that spiraled through my mind like an endless loop. There was no denying it anymore: I was entangled in something dangerous and dark—a web spun by Damien that tightened around me with every heartbeat.

And deep down, beneath the layers of panic and fear, there lingered a part of me that craved his chaos—his raw intensity—even if it meant losing myself completely in the process.

And this realization terrified me more than anything else ever could.

Chapter18

Damien

Ibarely stepped inside the Sinclaire estate when her voice cut through the silence like glass shattering.

“Damien.”

I turned, bracing myself for the encounter. My mother sat in the dimly lit parlor, a glass of red wine cradled in her delicate hand. The light caught the contours of her face, highlighting a coldness that never failed to unsettle me.

Her expression was calculated, as if she were weighing my worth against the standard she had set long ago. “You’ve been reckless.”

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms, defiance bubbling just beneath my skin. “And you’ve been watching me.”

She let out a small sigh, disappointment flickering across her features. “You know how much is at stake, Damien. This isn’t just about you.”

“Then maybe I should stop being a pawn in your little games.”

Her lips curled into a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You think you’re in control? That you can act without consequence? You’re playing with fire.”

“Funny coming from you,” I shot back, frustration surging within me. I hated how she always had a way of twisting things, making me feel like I was still that helpless boy trying to earn approval.

“Do not dismiss this lightly,” she warned, lowering her voice slightly. The shift in tone sent a shiver down my spine—a reminder of who held the real power in this house.

I didn’t slow down as I headed for the stairs, my mind racing with thoughts I refused to acknowledge. The last thing I wanted was to entertain whatever game she had in mind tonight.

But her voice, smooth and cold like ice, sliced through the air. “That girl—Holly.”

My steps faltered for just a second, a momentary slip that I hated myself for. But she caught it, her smile widening like she’d just landed a blow.