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004

Author: Angel
last update Last Updated: 2025-05-02 21:37:16

Damien's point of View

There's a difference between keeping wolves at bay and inviting them to dinner.

Tonight, I'm doing the latter.

The Alaric estate gleams under a blood- orange sunset, the kind Emilia says reminds her of the battlefield after the storm. she's always been poetic like that. sensitive in a way no one else in this family dares to be.

She outed me this morning. I should've seen it coming. Emilia had always been impulsive, but this time, her excitement got the best of her. she told out family I was engaged before I even had the chance to prepare Serena before I had the chance to decide if this game was worth playing.

but the moment she said it, I made a choice.

I told them it was true.

and now, Serena and I have to play the part for one dinner, at least before the snakes start to coil and the vultures start to circle.

I adjust my cufflinks in the mirror - onyx and platinum, my father's old pair. A relic of a man who taught me that family is nothing without power and power is nothing without fear.

The door to my study opens.

Serena stands there, Framed by the low firelight, wearing a black stain dress that clings to her like sin. Her dark hair is swept back, exposing the curve of her neck. she looks like temptation carved from glass-sharp, cold, and dangerously breakable.

"you're late, " I say.

she lifts her chin. " you didn't give me a schedule."

I bite down the smirk. she's good. still defiant, still proud. That's exactly what I need tonight.

"come here."

she hesitates. then steps forward, stopping when she's an arm's length away.

I reach into my coat pocket and pull out the ring box again. I open it slowly, revealing the same platinum band she slipped on the night before.

she watches me with those unreadable eyes.

"Don't forget who you belong to tonight," I say quietly. " And don't underestimate how fast they'll turn on you if they sense you're lying."

"who?" she asks.

"My uncle. My cousin's. my Aunt Margot. half of them wants me dead. The other half want to marry me off to their daughters."

"And what do you want?"

I meet her gaze as I slide the ring back onto her finger.

"Silence."

Her lips part like she wants to say more, but I walk past her before she can.

because if she looks at me like that again, I might forget this is all a lie.

we arrive at the east wing, where formal dinners are hosted when blood isn't actively being spilled.

The tables is set for ten. my uncles sit flanking the head seat-where I'm supposed to sit now, as the heir. Aunt Margot is already swirling wine in her glass like she's debating if it's poisoned. my cousin Leo leans back in his chair, smirking at his phone.

Emilia is the only one who looks genuinely happy when we walked in.

"There she is!" She beams, rushing over to Serena. "You look stunning."

Serena murmurs her thanks.

The rest of the table watches her like she's a puzzle they're trying to solve before dessert.

"Everyone, " I say coolly, " This is Serena vale - my fiancee."

The word hangs in the air like a loaded gun.

uncle Marcus is the first to speak. His voice is gravel and smoke, one of the old guards of the family.

"Financee, huh?" he eyes her. " Bit sudden, isn't it Damien?"

"Love moves fast," I say.

He grunts.

Aunty Margot tilts her head. "And where did you two meet?"

Serena steps in before I can answer.

"A gallery," she says ." He pretended to know about art. I pretended not to notice."

There's a ripple of restrained laughter.

Leo whistles low. "she's got a spine."

"More than most." I say.

Dinner is served. Roasted duck. Glazed carrots. Red wine poured by men with guns tucked beneath their vests.

The conversation shifts to business. Property seizures. The Bratva moving in on one of our ports. A judge who needs reminding of his loyalties.

Serena sits still, poised, never once asking questions.

but she listens.

I can see it- his she's mapping the hierarchy, the alliances, the subtle way uncle Francis cuts me off when I speak and how aunt Margot's eye's linger on the ring like it's a ticking clock.

"Tell me, Serena," Margot finally says. " What do your parents do?"

The question slices the air.

Serena doesn't Flinch.

"My father's dead," she says. " my mother left a long time ago."

"Tragic, " Margot purrs. " But convenient. No losse ends."

Serena smiles, but her eyes are steel. " is that how your family prefers things?"

Leo chokes on his wine.

I fight a grin.

"She's a keeper" he mutters.

Dinner ends with coffee and cigars.

When we stand to leave, Marcus claps a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"she's clever," he says. " Too clever, maybe."

I look him dead in the eyes.

"would you prefer someone stupid?"

He chuckles, "No. just someone predictable."

we walk the halls in silence.

Serena is quiet until we're back in my wing.

then she turns to me

"well?" she says. "Did I pass your little family test?"

"They didn't gut you alive," I reply. "That's a win."

"You didn't answer the question."

I face her fully.

"You held your own. you didn't flinch. you shut Margot down without raising your voice. that's more than most wives in this family manage in ten years."

she crosses her arms. " But I'm not your wife"

"Not yet "

Her breath hitches- just slightly.

"you want to know what the worst part of all this is?" she says quietly.

I raise a brow.

"I keep forgetting this is fake."

For a second, the air shifts.

I didn't know why I felt that way,but the way she looked at me I wanted to believe she wanted something more.

but that's impossible, I bought her.

she is my slave

And in that heartbeat, we're no longer enemies. or allies. just two people standing too close, too vulnerable, with too much to lose.

then she turns and walks into her room, shutting the door behind her.

and I'm left alone, wondering when exactly this game stopped feeling like control.

and started feeling like danger.

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  • Bound To The Devil's Heir    005

    Serena's point of View The next morning, I woke up with the taste of last night still clinging to me- Not food, not wine, but tension. The kind that settled in your bones and refused to leave.For a moment I just lay there, staring at the ornate ceiling above me like it held answers.What the hell was I thinking yesterday?why did I push back at the dinner table? why did I meet Damien gaze like I belonged at his side?This wasn't real. it was a farce. A calculated arrangements. A survival tactic dressed up In diamonds and lies.and yet...something inside me twisted when I remembered the weight of his hand on my back, the subtle way he shielded me from certain questions, like a lion guarding a prize.I shouldn't feel anything. Not curiosity. not attraction.and definitely not this gnawing ache I couldn't name.I was brushing out my hair when there was a knock on the door.I opened it to find one of the kitchen maids- mid- thirties, quite, red hair tied back in a sever bun. she looked

  • Bound To The Devil's Heir    004

    Damien's point of View There's a difference between keeping wolves at bay and inviting them to dinner.Tonight, I'm doing the latter.The Alaric estate gleams under a blood- orange sunset, the kind Emilia says reminds her of the battlefield after the storm. she's always been poetic like that. sensitive in a way no one else in this family dares to be.She outed me this morning. I should've seen it coming. Emilia had always been impulsive, but this time, her excitement got the best of her. she told out family I was engaged before I even had the chance to prepare Serena before I had the chance to decide if this game was worth playing.but the moment she said it, I made a choice.I told them it was true.and now, Serena and I have to play the part for one dinner, at least before the snakes start to coil and the vultures start to circle.I adjust my cufflinks in the mirror - onyx and platinum, my father's old pair. A relic of a man who taught me that family is nothing without power and po

  • Bound To The Devil's Heir    003

    Serena point of View: The ring is still heavy on my finger the next morning. I barely slept. my body kept jolting awake, bracing for a blow that never came. I'm not used to beds this soft, or silence this loud. This room is massive - cold marble floors, floor to ceiling windows with blackout curtains, a fireplace that probably costs more than my entire tuition. But none of it feels real. Not the clothes folded neatly on the dresser. Not the tray of untouched food at the door. not the fact that I'm now engaged to Damien Alaric. I slip into the clothes- black silk blouse, fitted slacks, heels Sharp enough to stab someone with. The fabric clings to me like it knows it doesn't belong. like it's pretending, too. At precisely nine, the door opens. it isn't Damien. it's a woman. mid-thirties. Fierce cheekbones. slick ponytail. Business suit sharper thank her eyes. she looks me over once, slowly, and doesn't bother hiding her disdain. "I'm Claudia," she says. " Damien's chief of

  • Bound To The Devil's Heir    002

    Serena point of View: I laugh. it's the wrong reaction - I know that. But it escapes before I can stop it, dry and bitter and sharp enough to slice through the silence between us. "Financee?" I echo. " That's your game? You spend a quarter million on a hostage and call it romance?" he doesn't blink. Doesn't Flinch. Doesn't smile. "I didn't buy you for romance." "The what the hell-" "I bought you because I need you" He says it so plainly.. Like it's a transaction. like I'm a handbag, or a forged signature, or a weapon. I take a step back, toward the door. my breath is shallow now. I feel the cold of the marble floor through the thin slip dress they forced on me. "I don't know who you think I am," I say slowly, "But you've made a mistake." He follows. Leisurely. like a predator who knows the prey can't escape. "oh, I know exactly who you are, " he says. "Serena vale. Art student. NYU. Raised in Maine. changed your last name five years ago after your father was caught in

  • Bound To The Devil's Heir    001

    Serena point of View:I always imagined death would be quiet.A white light, maybe. A gentle whisper. Not this.Not zip ties burning into my wrists.Not the stench of blood masked by cheap perfume. Not the sound of heels clicking over marble, dragging out my panic one footstep at a time.my heart is beating so loud I swear it echoes off the walls of this place. wherever this Godforsaken place is.they grabbed me after my exhibition, two blocks from campus. one second I was texting Leah to say I'd made it back safe, the next there was a needle in my neck and darkness swallowing me whole.Now I'm awake.Now I'm here.And I'm not alone.There are other girls.Six of us. All dressed like dolls in silk slips, bare feet, bruises and fear in our eyes. we sit side by side on a Velvet bench, a row of sacrifices waiting for the wolves.one tries to speak. she's silenced with the back of a hand, another sobs quietly. A third blonde younger than me. Stares ahead like her soul already left her body

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