Page 46 of Claimed By the Damned

“Enjoy yourself?” I ask, my voice sharper than intended.

He tosses me a cocky grin, but there’s a flicker of something darker, possessive, in his eyes. “Not in the mood for your shit, Bastian.”

My knuckles tighten around the glass of whiskey, the cool condensation stark against my burning skin. I hate this. Hate the jealousy coiling hot and tight in my gut, how badly I want her. My fist clenches on its own, an ache spreading through my hand. Holding myself back while he and Ethan have already been with her is its own kind of torture. If I let go of my control, even for a second... the damage could be irreparable.

Ethan walks in, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He clocks Ryker’s mood and mine instantly. “Let me guess,” he sighs. “We’re about to have another dick-measuring contest?”

“No contest,” Ryker mutters, leaning against the doorframe. “I’d win.”

I exhale slowly through my nose, forcing calm. “We need to talk about the parcel Lila received. About Kolya.”

Ryker’s smugness vanishes, his jaw tightening. He doesn’t speak for a moment, as if weighing the impact of his words. Then he looks at Ethan and me, his voice low and sharp. “Nikolai Mikhailov. Lila’s husband.”

Ethan looks like he's been punched, the color draining from his face as Ryker’s confirmation hits him with the force of a physical blow. "

Mikhailov," he breathes, the name a curse, the full weight of its implication settling. "So, the note... itwashim." His voice is tight, strained.

"And that claim he made... she's actually hiswife?" The question is laced with horror, the word "wife" now carrying the crushing weight of confirmed reality, a dawning, sick understanding of the bond Lila was forced into.

My own gut clenches.Nikolai Mikhailov.We know the name. Know Kolya is the name he goes by in certain circles, whispered with fear in the underworld. Know the reports of his brutality, the reach of his organization, the shadow he casts over LA. We’ve even brushed uncomfortably close to his operations years ago, a fact that now feels chillingly relevant.

But to hear definitively thatheis the monster in Lila's past, the one who dares to call herwife... the confirmation lands like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. The threat we recognized from the note’s signature now has the full, terrifying identity of one of the city's most ruthless players directly and horrifically tied toher. And heownedLila.

The silence that descends on the office is heavy, suffocating. It rings not with the introduction of an unknown enemy, but with the horrifying personalization of a known one. My mind races, connecting dots we already possess with the fresh, raw horror of Lila's reality.

Ethan’s fingers fly across the keyboard, the rapidclack-clack-clackthe only sound piercing the thick tension. Across the room, Ryker paces like a caged wolf, raw violence practically rolling off him in waves. My own fury simmers—a cold, controlled burn beneath the surface.

A soft creak from the hallway cuts through the charged air. Instinct takes over. All three of us turn as one, postures shifting, ready for a threat.

But it’s Lila. She stands framed in the doorway, swallowed by one of Ryker’s black t-shirts, the fabric slipping off her shoulder. Her dark hair is tousled, but her blue eyes are shadowed and fixed on the three of us. Her hands are clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles white. She looks so damn small, so fragile, yet there's a flicker of fragile determination in her stance. She must have heard the raised voices, or perhaps just felt the sheer weight of the revelation settling over the house.

She doesn't ask if we know. Her gaze meets mine, holding it steady. "He told you”, she states, her voice quiet but firm, cutting through the lingering tension. It isn't a question.

The protective instinct slams into me, fierce and absolute, anger sharpening at the thought of the man who forced this shadow over her. Ryker moves towards her, the violent energy coiling within him softening slightly into concern as he takes her in. His voice is rough, low. "Yeah, Baby Girl." He gestures slightly towards Ethan and me. "We all know now."

Lila nods slowly, a tremor running through her slight frame, but she holds her ground in the doorway for another beat. Her gaze sweeps past Ryker to meet mine fully, then Ethan’s, acknowledging the shared, terrible knowledge hanging heavy in the air between us. I see her draw a shaky breath, her small shoulders straightening almost imperceptibly. Even knowing we now know who her husband is, she faces us.That’s my girl.

She moves silently into the room. Her bare feet make no sound on the thick rug as she bypasses the desk and heads towards the low leather couch against the far wall. She sinks onto the plush cushions, immediately drawing her knees up tight to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as if trying to make herself smaller, protected. From this self-contained position,head slightly bowed but eyes still fixed on us, she prepares to speak.

Her throat works, and when she finally speaks again, her voice is low and brittle. I brace myself internally. She clearly feels we need to know thedetails, the full scope of what this animal did to her, now that his name is out in the open.

"Since you know who he is now," she begins, her voice gaining a thin thread of steel beneath the tremble, "you need to knowwhathe is. What you're really dealing with. Why he won't stop until he gets me back." Her gaze shifts between us, sharp and serious despite the vulnerability of her posture. "You need to understand what he did... what he's capable of."

She takes another shaky breath, seemingly gathering herself.

“He didn’t just control me,” she whispers, her gaze flitting between the three of us from the shield of her drawn-up knees. Her fingers twist and pull at the hem of the oversized t-shirt she wears, the fabric stretching taut over her fingers. I meet her eyes head-on, refusing to look away. She needs to see I’m listening, that we're all bearing witness. “He owned me. Every part.”

Another shaky breath, her hand instinctively pressing flat against her chest. The memory is clearly visceral. “When I didn’t do exactly what he wanted… when I showed even a flicker of defiance… he…” She falters, the words catching. Pain flashes in her eyes, her breathing shallowing.

Don’t stop, Little One. Let us carry this for you.

“He hit me,” she finally forces out, the raw shame coloring her voice making my blood run cold. Her gaze drops to the floor.“Not just slaps. Beatings, until I was unconscious, close to death. Sometimes… sometimes he’d lock me away afterward, for days. Remind me how worthless I was without him; how lucky I was that he kept me.”

Ethan stiffens beside me; a sharp, audible intake of breath cuts the silence as he turns abruptly from his screen, his face amask of sickened disbelief. Ryker freezes mid-pace, his entire body rigid, fists clenched so tight his knuckles are white, his eyes locked on Lila with an intensity that borders on feral. My own jaw tightens, a muscle jumping erratically beneath my skin. I force myself to remain still, impassive. Weakness is not an option. Not now. Not ever again.

“But that… that wasn’t the worst,” she continues, her voice dropping lower, trembling now despite her fierce control. She bites her lip, fighting for composure. The air grows heavy, charged with unspoken horrors.“He… he didn’t care about consent or about my pleasure. Being his wife…”The term sounds like poison coming from her lips.“…meant my body was his property. Anytime. Anywhere. It didn’t matter if I said no, if I fought… it just made him worse, like he enjoyed when I fought him.”She swallows hard, a tear escaping to trace a path down her cheek. She doesn’t need to say the word. The implication hangs heavy: He raped her. Something ugly and familiar twists inside me.

Lifting her chin, she forces herself to meet our eyes again, though fresh tears well, blurring her vision. She needs us to see the full ugliness.“And when Ireallypushed back? When I tried to run the first time… or when I defied him publicly at a party?”Acid burns my throat at the image her words conjure.“He’d… parade me around, naked.”Each word sounds like it’s ripped from her.“Pass me around.”Her voice cracks now, the sound sharp and painful.“To his associates. Hisfriends.As punishment. As a lesson. As a reminder.”She’s shaking visibly, her arms wrapped so tightly around herself I fear she might break.“To show them… to showme…I was nothing but his possession to be used and discarded at his whim. They took turns raping me over and over.”

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