Page 89 of Claimed By the Damned

I hate him.

But I hate myself more for the way fear makes me obey.

Without a word, I step toward the bed and slide under the covers, keeping as much distance between us as possible.

I hesitate, and Kolya's smirk widens further; he's savoring this. He reaches out, brushing stray hair behind my ear; the touch makes my stomach churn. "Good girl," he murmurs. "You’re learning." I force myself to stay still, body rigid with tension. He is enjoying this, my forced submission, my quiet defeat.For now,I add silently.

That night, I toss and turn, sleep evading me. Every time I close my eyes, I feel him beside me—his presence a heavy violation, making every nerve ending scream. The sheets smell like him, the room a prison disguised as a sanctuary. Every breath, every second is a reminder I am trapped. The silence here is different from the quiet of the Sanctuary; there, it was peaceful, here it is dead, broken only by the distant, chilling click of Dimitri’s boots as he patrols the hall outside the locked door.

Sometime in the dead of night, just as exhaustion threatens to claim me, he moves. Kolya rolls towards me, his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me tight against his body. My muscles lock, every nerve screaming. He shifts, settling his large hand possessively over my slightly rounded stomach, claiming ownership even in sleep. The heat of his palm feels like a brand against my skin, against the fragile life I carry.

Tears prick my eyes, hot and silent, tracing paths down my temples into my hair. I stare into the suffocating darkness, trapped by his weight, his scent, his possessive hold. Revulsion and a bone-deep fear war within me, but I don’t move, don’t make a sound, praying he won't wake, praying this violation ends with his unconscious touch.

When the sun finally rises, exhaustion clings to my bones. Kolya is gone, thank God, but I am far from alone. The door is lockedfrom the outside, the key in someone else’s possession. Hours pass in suffocating silence until a heavy knock rattles the door.

Dimitri.

The brute unlocks the door and steps inside, cold gaze assessing, massive frame filling the doorway. "Get ready," he grunts. "Dinner."

There's no room for refusal, no space for argument in Dimitri's flat gaze. Bide your time, I tell myself. Wait for an opening.

But dinner is worse.

I refuse to sit, refuse to play the part he wants. When he gestures toward the dining table, I stand still, glaring at him in open defiance.

His smile never wavers.

Then, without warning, he backhands me.

Pain explodes across my cheek, hot and blinding. My head snaps violently to the side, stars erupting behind my eyes, ears ringing. A harsh metallic tang fills my mouth. Instinctively, my free hand flies protectively to my stomach.

I stagger slightly, fighting to stay upright, keep my expression blank even as tears blur my vision and bile rises alongside the coppery taste of blood. The pain is nothing. Theterror—that's consuming. A primal, visceral fear not for me, but for the tiny life curled unaware inside of me.

Kolya leans back slightly, watching me with detached interest, eyes cold, assessing my reaction. Waiting. He's enjoying this, watching defiance shatter against brute force.

"You will sit, and you will eat," Kolya says, his voice utterly calm, terrifyingly composed, as if he hadn’t just struck me. "You will behave." His gaze flickers pointedly towards where my hand shields my belly, then back to my face. When I remain frozen, trembling but defiant, his smile widens, slow and predatory.

"Don't mistake my concern for the child as weakness towardsyou, my Pet," he murmurs, stepping closer until he loomsover me. "There are...manyways to ensure your submission. Ways that won't leave a mark on my heir. Ways you will find exceptionally... unpleasant." His eyes drop meaningfully, lingering, before rising back to mine, cold and hard. "Remember all those lovely private parties I had with my associates? The ones where you were the evening’s entertainment? You were always their favorite. So eager to pleasemeby pleasingthem. I can arrange that again. It would be so easy. Just a phone call. They’d be delighted to see you again, especially now, carrying my child. Imagine their excitement."

Before I can process the sickening implication—the memories flooding back, sharp and suffocating—his hand darts out, not towards my face, but lower. His fingers close roughly over my core, grabbing me intimately through the thin fabric of my dress. A sharp, violating pressure that steals my breath.

A choked gasp tears itself from my throat. Humiliation burns hotter than the pain on my cheek. My legs threaten to buckle, revulsion and terror warring within me. He holds me there, his touch a brutal assertion of power. The message is undeniable: hecanhurt me, violate me, in ways that bypass my child entirely.

The unspoken threat crystallizes into visceral, immediate horror. The thought of strange hands on me again, on my pregnant body, the leering faces, their satisfaction mirrored in Kolya’s eyes… it’s a violation that would shatter me, and worse, endanger the baby through stress, through despair.

My breathing stutters, fear clawing up my throat, suffocating me.Not for myself.The thought is a desperate mantra.Protect the baby. Survive for the baby.His cruelty, I can endure. I have before. But risking the baby? Unthinkable. I have to endure this. This compliance isn't surrender; it's a shield. A temporary truce bought with gritted teeth and swallowed pride, a desperate measure to protect the only thing that matters more than my own broken pride.

Kolya releases me abruptly. A tremor runs through me, and I see the dark satisfaction in his eyes.

I force my shaking legs to move, lowering myself into the chair, pulse a frantic drumbeat.

Survive. Play along. Find a way to escape. The words become a mantra. Beneath the veneer of submission, a cold, hard resolve begins to solidify. He thinks he’s won. He thinks he’s rebuilt his cage. He doesn’t know I’m already looking for the cracks.

Because if I don’t, I'll never seethemagain, and my baby will never be safe.

The thought of never seeingthemagain hits like a physical blow. Ethan’s steady kindness, Bastian’s unwavering control, Ryker’s reckless devotion… my chest aches with the sudden, visceral realization of how much I love them. And now? I might never see them again, never get to tell them.

Do they even want to see me? Are they furious that I left without telling them? Or have they already accepted I am gone?

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