Page 75 of Claimed By the Damned

The smell of gunpowder and scorched metal still lingers in the air, which feels heavy, thick with a tension so palpable it seems to coat every surface. Even the shadows seem deeper, every creak a potential threat. I know I’m safe, for now, but my body hasn’t gotten the message. My pulse pounds in my ears. Adrenaline still burns through my veins, a drug that won’t quit.

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. I'm trembling, but not just from fear. Raw anger coils tight in my chest, squeezing my ribs like a vice. I am so damn tired of this, of being hunted, of being afraid, of hiding while the sounds of battle rage just rooms away, picturingtheirfaces,theirblood, spilled because ofme.

Face it, Lila. You brought this fight here. Just like Bastian worried about.

A lump forms in my throat. I swallow past it, refusing to choke on it. Grim stands near me, arms crossed, his ever-present scowl a little deeper than usual. He stayed glued to me, an anchor, feeding me updates while the others fought, making damn sure I didn’t do anything stupid like run into the crossfire. But it didn’t make it any easier, waiting, pacing, picturing them out there, one of them getting hurt, or worse. Each distant shout, each muffled thud, sent a fresh wave of ice through my veins. The thought of Kolya’s men reaching them, of Ethan’s kind eyes clouded with death, Ryker’s wild energy extinguished, Bastian’s strength failing… it was a torment worse than any physical threat to myself.

My stomach twists.

I exhale through my nose, steadying myself. No. Iwon’tlet this shake me.

The men storm into the room, tension crackling off them. Ryker has blood streaked across his forearm and knuckles, Ethan’s jawis clenched so tight I swear I can hear his teeth grinding, and Bastian… he looks calm, too calm. That is never a good sign.

The door slams shut behind them, rattling the windows. I flinch but stand my ground.

Ethan is the first to move. He stalks toward me, cupping my face in his hands, scanning me as if making sure I’m still in one piece. “You okay, Angel?”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. He doesn’t look convinced, but he presses a kiss to my forehead before stepping back. Ryker’s knuckles are bloody, fresh cuts lining his skin. He holsters his gun, then crosses his arms, his jaw ticking. “That wasn’t just an attack,” he growls. “That was a damn warning.”

“No,” Bastian corrects, his voice low and dangerous. “That was a declaration of war.”

The room shrinks. His words sink into my bones.

A shiver runs down my spine, but I push through it. The image of Kolya’s cold, possessive smile flashes in my mind, the smile he wore as he stripped away every piece of me. And then another image, sharper, more immediate: the dark stain blooming on Ryker’s forearm. The baby inside me gives a faint flutter, a tiny, insistent reminder of everything I now have to lose.Them. This fragile new life. Myself.

Something inside me snaps. Not with fear, but with a cold, hard fury. The victim Lila, the one who cowered and endured, feels like a skin I have to shed, right here, right now. This isn't just aboutmysurvival anymore. It's abouttheirs. It’s about fighting for the sanctuary they’ve given me, for the future growing inside me.

“Then we fight,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady, echoing the steel I suddenly feel forging in my spine.

Silence. Thick, suffocating silence. Three sets of eyes lock onto me, unreadable. Grim, still leaning against the wall, lets out a slow breath but says nothing.

Bastian is the first to speak. “Lila.” His voice is measured, calculated. “This isn’t your fight.”

Anger flares, hot and fast. “The hell it isn’t.”

Ryker lets out a low chuckle, devoid of humor. “Baby Girl, this isn’t up for discussion.”

I take a step forward, ignoring the way their bodies tense. “I’m done being a victim. I’m done sitting on the sidelines while people get hurt because of me. I will not hide in a room while you bleed for me and my child. Kolya wants to break me, to take everything? He’ll have to go through me first, not just you. I don’t want to be protected—I want to fight.”

Ethan runs a hand down his face, sighing. “Lila, no one’s saying you’re weak. But this isn’t—”

“Thisismy fight,” I snap. “Kolya took everything from me. He stole me, broke me, made me think I’d never be free again. And now he’s coming after me again. Afterus. After ourbaby. So tell me again how this isn’t my fight.”

They are quiet. Not because they disagree, but because they hate it. Hate that I’m right. Hate that I’m in this mess to begin with.

Bastian exhales, slow and controlled. “We protect what’s ours, Lila. That includes you and the baby you're carrying.”

I swallow hard. “Then let me protectyoutoo.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with everything unsaid. My heart hammers against my ribs like it wants out. Kolya's conditioning screams at me:back down, accept protection, hide behind them. But a hotter anger burns through the fear.

I see the attack again—the chaos, the gunfire, the potential forthemto get hurtprotecting me. Just waiting, helplessly, while they might die? No. Bastian is right, they protect what is theirs. But I am not justtheirsto shelter. I ampartof this now.

Waiting passively isn't survival; it is merely delaying the inevitable. The only way to truly get my life back, to ensure my child is born into a world where Kolya’s shadow doesn’t loom, isto have the power to defend it, and them. The realization clicks into place, cold and definite. No more hiding. No more being the reason others pay the price.

Another tense silence. Ryker watches me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. Ethan looks like he wants to argue, but knows I won’t back down. Bastian… Bastian is the hardest to read. But I see it—the slight shift in his expression, a reluctant acknowledgment.

Ethan runs a hand through his hair with another sigh. "Okay, Lila. We hear you. We respect that you want to fight. But you have to think about the baby now. Protectingyourselfmeans protecting the baby. That's paramount. We'll make sure you're involved, we won't shut you out. But when the bullets fly, letushandle the direct fire? That's non-negotiable."

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