Lydia paced the sleek penthouse living room, her heart pounding harder than ever. Damian lounged on the leather couch, eyes tracking her every move, a slow, knowing smile curling his lips.Lydia: “You know, you’re impossible to read. Like a locked vault, and I’m the one holding the damn key.”Damian: (raising an eyebrow) “Oh? And here I thought you loved a challenge.”Lydia: (stopping, folding her arms) “I do. But this—this whole game you’re playing? It’s driving me crazy.”Damian stood and moved closer, the heat radiating off him almost tangible.Damian: “Maybe I like watching you burn a little. It’s the way you get that fire in your eyes… so alive, so raw.”Lydia: (biting her lip, voice softer) “You think I’m just some wild animal to tame? That’s not me, Damian. I’m more… complicated.”Damian: (grinning) “Complicated is my favorite word. Tell me your darkest secret, Lydia. What’s the one thing you’ve never dared say out loud?”Her breath hitched. She glanced away, then back, eyes sh
Lydia’s pulse hammered in sync with Damian’s relentless kisses trailing down her neck, igniting a fire that consumed all reason. His hands weren’t gentle—they were claiming, demanding, setting her skin ablaze with every stroke.“Tell me you want this, Lydia,” Damian growled, his voice thick with need, fingers tightening at the curve of her waist as his body pressed against hers.Her breath hitched, trembling under his control. “I want you—no, I need you—every inch, every secret you hide.”He smiled darkly, lips ghosting over hers before crashing in a heated kiss that stole her breath and sent her senses spiraling. Their bodies moved as one, a dangerous dance of lust and unspoken truths.Between gasps and whispered curses, Lydia’s mind raced. She was drowning in him, in the sinful thrill of surrender—and beneath it all, the silent question: how much could she trust the man who made her feel this alive, yet held so many secrets?Suddenly, his hand slid lower, tracing the edge of her hip
Lydia folded the photograph carefully, tracing Vivienne’s eyes with trembling fingers. Alive. And marked. Why hadn’t Damian told her? What had happened to Vivienne? Was her fate a warning or a threat?Her pulse hammered—not just with fear, but with defiance. If Damian thought he could keep her in the dark, he had another thing coming.She waited until the house was silent, shadows thick and safe. Then, slipping into the sleek black leather jacket she always kept hidden, Lydia grabbed her phone and slipped out.The city was a different beast at night—darker, more dangerous, yet somehow freer.Her first stop was an underground bar whispered about in Damian’s circles—a place where information was currency and no one asked questions they didn’t want to hear the answers to.The bartender was a tall woman with icy eyes, scanning Lydia like a hawk.“I’m looking for someone,” Lydia said, voice low but steady. “Vivienne Cross.”The woman’s gaze sharpened, flicking to a heavyset man in the corn
The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lydia stood at the edge of Damian’s bedroom, her silk slip clinging to the curves he’d memorized by mouth. Her lips were parted. Breath shallow. His stare made her feel like the only woman in the world—and also like prey.She didn’t run.He approached slowly, no words yet—just that coiled tension in his body that made her pulse trip. She knew this version of Damian. The one that undid her with silence before even touching her.“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, voice husky.He didn’t answer. Not with words. His hand went to her throat—gently—and lifted her chin.“I want you to say it,” he whispered.“Say what?”“My name,” he said, leaning in, brushing his lips against hers, “like a prayer. Like I’m your god tonight.”Her body flushed.And then he kissed her.Not softly. Not sweetly.But like a man who needed worship.They didn’t make it to the bed.He lifted her e
The address in the message led Lydia to an underground club beneath the oldest cathedral in the city. Velvet curtains, gothic chandeliers, and sin carved into every corner.She wore black lace—nothing underneath.And she wasn’t the only queen in the room.At the back, on a throne upholstered in crimson, sat a woman with icy eyes and a serpent’s smile.“You’re her,” Lydia said.“I was,” the woman answered. “Until they chose you.”“You’re the one Damian wouldn’t speak of…”“I’m the one he forgot to warn you about.”Lydia arched a brow. “You want your crown back?”“No,” the woman purred. “I want to see if you can keep it.”The woman snapped her fingers.Two men emerged from the shadows. Muscled. Masked. Hard.“This isn’t seduction anymore, Lydia,” she whispered. “It’s dominance. Show me how far you’ll go to keep control.”Lydia didn’t blink.She walked to the center of the room. Let the robe fall. Stood naked and fierce.Then she pointed to one of the men. “On your knees.”He obeyed.The
The sky outside was still dark when Lydia packed the flash drive in her coat pocket and slipped out of Damian’s penthouse. Her heels clicked softly against the marble as she moved like a shadow, her pulse steady but her mind on fire.Everything had changed.She wasn’t the hunted anymore.She was becoming something else entirely.The twelfth—and final—commandment wasn’t a sentence.It was a challenge.48 hours. One must fall. One must reign.She walked into the dawn not as prey—but as the Queen.The Secret MeetingLydia sat across from him—the man who had once been known only by whispers.Vincent Blake.Damian’s half-brother.The one cast out.The rebel.“I saw her,” Lydia said. “The woman in red. She’s alive.”Vincent tilted his head, his smirk crooked. “Of course she is. You don’t think they kill their queens, do you?”“She was supposed to be dead.”“She was—to Damian.” He leaned closer. “But to the Council? She’s their enforcer. The one who ensures the commandments are followed… unt
The moment Lydia opened that envelope, the world tilted.Inside was a single note. Handwritten. Bold strokes that bled urgency and obsession:“Number 11 was never supposed to make it this far. But if you’re reading this… it means she did.Terminate. Or fall with her.”Her blood ran cold.She turned the paper over—nothing else. No signature, no date, just that brutal ultimatum.“Terminate…”Her name—her number—was part of something bigger. Something horrifying. Damian hadn’t just broken rules to keep her. He had rewritten them.And someone else had been watching.Lydia stood naked in the mirror, the faint marks of their night together painting her skin like bruised poetry. Her reflection wasn’t the same woman who walked into Damian’s office weeks ago.She wasn’t fragile anymore.She was dangerous.And dangerously in love.He appeared behind her, towel slung low on his hips, watching her quietly.“You opened it,” he said.“I did,” she replied. “And now you’re going to tell me who the he
The room was silent except for the low hum of the laptop.Lydia couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away.On screen, her older self leaned closer, lips painted blood-red, eyes devoid of the warmth she still carried.“You’re not crazy,” the video-Lydia whispered. “You’re evolving.”Damian stood frozen behind her, jaw locked, his entire body coiled like he might shatter the screen or drag her away from it. But he didn’t. He knew better now.Video-Lydia continued, “You were chosen, long before him. Long before the Ten Commandments were used to train and seduce and destroy. You were supposed to rewrite them. You were born for this, Lydia. Because you are… the Eleventh Commandment.”Lydia’s fingers trembled as she paused the video.“Damian,” she said, voice hoarse. “What the hell does this mean?”He ran a hand through his hair, every muscle flexing with restraint. “I didn’t know it was this bad. I thought you were just the next player. But you’re not a player—you’re the architect.”She blinked
Lydia stood barefoot in the heart of Damian’s penthouse library, wrapped in his shirt, her body still marked from their last sinfully heated encounter. But now, everything felt… different.Rawer. Dangerous.“What do you mean the Commandments were your father’s?” she asked, voice hoarse, still winded from the truth.Damian stepped closer. Shirtless. His toned chest marked with faint old scars—one she hadn’t noticed before that curved near his ribs like a brand.“He created them as a system. A psychological framework,” he said. “He believed pleasure was the best way to control, manipulate… and eventually own someone.”Lydia’s stomach turned. “You used them on me.”“I thought I was using them.” He touched her jaw. “But it was always you in control, Lydia. You broke every rule, and I still begged for more.”She looked away, needing air, needing space—but he followed.“Then what happens now?” she whispered. “Now that we’ve broken every rule?”Damian’s eyes narrowed. “Now… the real game beg