Page 88 of Claimed By the Damned

Home.

I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood.

The grand foyer is vast, chilling, just as I remembered. Vaulted ceilings disappear into shadow, swallowing sound and making the opulent space feel empty. The marble floor reflects the harsh light from an enormous crystal chandelier overhead, all glitter with no warmth. Every surface is cold, hard, and echoes. A mausoleum of silence compared to the lived-in comfort of the Sanctuary, where laughter, arguments, and even Ryker’s terrible singing sometimes filled the air.

The air is heavy and still, smelling faintly of stale cigars and cleaning products. My footsteps echo too loudly on the marble floors, each click emphatic in the oppressive, tomb-like silence. My body tenses instantly.This place.Not a home, a vault. And I'm his most prized possession, about to be locked away again.

Then, I see him.

A hulking brute of a man stands near the sweeping staircase, stance stiff, gaze assessing. Scars crisscross his face, thick and jagged, as if carved with a dull blade. His arms are thick with muscle, suit stretching over his massive frame. He looks like he could break someone in half easily. His eyes are flat, empty, following my every move. There’s none of Grim’s grudging respect or even his infuriating teasing; Dimitri is simply a wall, a jailer.

Kolya gestures toward him with a satisfied smirk.

"Lila, you remember Dimitri," he says. "He'll be keeping an eye on you. And don’t get any ideas, this guard won’t be as friendly as the last one. He won’t let you go if you smile prettily at him. He is completely loyal to me. So, don’t even bother trying it."

Dimitri doesn’t speak, doesn’t react beyond the tightening of his jaw. He simply inclines his massive head slightly, his flat, emptygaze sweeping over me, assessing and dismissing me like an insect under glass.

He subtly shifts his weight, planting himself more firmly, blocking the path to the main entrance. His message is clear without a word. He isn't just a guard; he is a warden for this gilded prison.

I swallow hard, pulse hammering in my throat.

Kolya's fingers brush my wrist as he pulls something from his pocket. A slim, black ankle monitor. Bile rises in my throat.

"I can’t have you running off again," he muses, crouching and snapping it into place around my ankle before I can react. The metallic click echoes in the silence, sealing my fate. "This is non-negotiable, my Pet. It stays on unlessIremove it. And only I have the key."

The device's weight is unbearable, a cold, hard band of steel against my skin. Every step presses it against me, a constant, unrelenting reminder of my captivity. A shackle. So different from the comforting weight of Ethan’s hand on my arm, or Bastian’s grounding presence. The tiny key around his neck taunts me.

I had been caged before.

Now, I am shackled. He might as well have chained me to the walls.

I clench my jaw, staring straight ahead, giving him nothing.

"Good girl," he murmurs, stroking my cheek before straightening. The words, meant to soothe, scrape like razors against my ears. Bastian says that, his voice warm and low, full of genuine care. Hearing it from Kolya now feels like a desecration, a twisting of something precious. My jaw clenches, refusing him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch visibly, even as revulsion churns inside me. "Now, let’s get you settled."

Ihaveto get out. I did it once, I can do it again. Because Iwill notsurvive being his prisoner again.

Kolya leads me upstairs to his bedroom—ourbedroom, as he calls it, though it had never truly been mine. The massive four-poster bed looms, draped in dark silk sheets that look suffocating. The door clicks shut behind us with a heavy, definitive sound, and I hear the distinct turn of a key in the lock from the outside. Sealed in.

"You’ll sleep here, with me," Kolya announces smoothly, his eyes tracking my every flicker of reaction.

I stiffen. "No."

His expression darkens. "That wasn’t a request."

I swallow, forcing steel into my voice. "I won’t."

A humorless smile curves Kolya’s lips. "Thisisyour place,my wife," he states, his tone laced with condescending patience, as if explaining something obvious to a child. "You belong here, in this room. In my bed. Where else would you be?"

His casual assertion of ownership sends a fresh wave of revulsion through me, worse than the command itself.

Kolya's smirk widens, dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as I remain frozen. "Then let me remind you what’s at stake." He steps closer, crowding me, his presence an oppressive weight. "Your men."

My chest tightens.

"They’re looking for you, I’m sure," he continues, almost bored. "And if they find you, what happens next? Do you think they’ll get out alive? That I’ll let them take you from me?" He leans in, brushing his lips over my ear. "Do you really want to gamble their lives on your stubbornness, Pet?"

A lump forms in my throat.

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