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Chapter 12

Penulis: Bunnykoo
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-11-26 00:54:44

The air in the formal parlor was stagnant, a thick, invisible soup of expensive cologne, aged scotch, and the underlying, metallic scent of male aggression. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn against the afternoon sun, casting the room in a permanent, amber-hued twilight that felt less like a sanctuary and more like a tomb.

Luna sat on the edge of a high-backed brocade chair, her posture rigid, her knees pressed together so tightly they ached. Her hands were folded in her lap, fingers laced together until the knuckles turned white, a desperate, silent anchor to keep from shaking. The ghost of Damon Volkov’s hand still burned on the small of her back, a phantom weight that felt heavier now that it was gone. The absence of his physical claim left her feeling paradoxically exposed, as if the armor he forced upon her had been stripped away, leaving her skin raw to the scrutiny of the room.

Volkov stood in the far corner, swallowed by the shadows of a tall bookshelf. He had not moved a s
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  • The Silence Of His Vows   Chapter 46

    The numbness was a shield.It was heavy, like a lead vest, and it made moving difficult, but it stopped the arrows.I sat on the mattress in the windowless room, staring at the gray wall. My hands were folded in my lap. My burned hand was re-wrapped in fresh gauze… not by a doctor, but by me, using supplies I had stolen from the bathroom trash when Carmina wasn’t looking.It throbbed. Of course it throbbed. But the pain felt like it was happening to someone else. Like I was watching a movie of a girl in pain, and I was just the audience.Knock.It wasn’t a knock. It was a kick.The door swung open.Marco stood there. He looked tired. He looked at me with a strange expression—not pity, not hate. Just… unease.“Up,” he said. “The Don is eating. He requires service.”I stood up.I didn’t tremble. I didn’t scramble. I rose slowly, unfolding my limbs like a rusted machine.I smoothed the front of my gray dress. I checked my apron.I walked to the door.Marco stepped back, giving me a wide

  • The Silence Of His Vows   Chapter 45

    Third person pov:The study was dark, illuminated only by the blue-white glow of the monitor and the ember of a cigarette burning in the ashtray.Killian Alatorre sat in the high-backed leather chair, a glass of amber whiskey untouched on the desk. His hand rested on the mouse, his index finger hovering over the button.Click.The video rewound.Play.On the screen, Luna’s face filled the frame.It was the moment before she cried. The split second where her composure fractured, where the “spoiled princess” mask dissolved, and something else peered out from beneath the grime and the fake bruise.Killian leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.He watched the way her throat worked as she swallowed a sob. He watched the way her pupils dilated, swallowing the hazel iris until her eyes were black pools of terror. He watched the tremor in her bottom lip—a microscopic, involuntary spasm that no amount of acting classes could teach.He froze the frame.He stared at her eyes.He was looking for the

  • The Silence Of His Vows   Chapter 44

    The silence in the servant’s corridor was different now.Before, it had been the silence of invisibility. I was a ghost haunting the edges of the house, ignored and erased.Now, it was the silence of a held breath.Every time I passed a guard, the conversation stopped. Eyes followed me. Heavy. Greasy. They didn’t look at my bucket or my scrub brush anymore. They looked at my legs beneath the gray hem. They looked at my mouth.Inspecting the goods.Killian’s words hung in the air like a thick, poisonous fog. He had branded me in the foyer. He had told them I was his to play with, and now, every man in the house wondered what that play looked like.I kept my head down, hugging the wall as I carried a stack of linens to the laundry chute.My burned hand throbbed—a dull, wet ache under the dirty bandage. My stomach was a hollow pit, gnawing at itself.But it was the shame that made me stumble.I wasn’t a pr

  • The Silence Of His Vows   Chapter 43

    The IV bag was empty.I lay on the bed, watching the last drop of clear fluid hesitate at the plastic nozzle before slipping down the tube and vanishing into my vein.The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the distant, rhythmic thud of boots patrolling the hallway.I felt… alive.It wasn’t a good feeling. It was a sharp, stinging awareness. The sugar and fluids had done their job. The fog in my brain had cleared, leaving behind a high-definition picture of my nightmare.My hand—the burned one—throbbed in time with my heart. My ankle, chafed by the leather cuff, burned.The door opened.Killian walked in.He brought the cold air with him. He was wearing a black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick veins of his forearms. He looked powerful. Rested. Lethal.He didn’t look at my face. He looked at the empty bag.“Refueled,” he stated.He walked to

  • The Silence Of His Vows   Chapter 42

    The fire was lit.The orange flames licked at the logs, casting a warm, dancing glow across the dark library. It was a cozy sight. A beautiful sight.But to me, it looked like a mouth opening to swallow the room.I stood up from the hearth, wiping my soot-stained hands on the dirty apron. My head felt strangely light, like it was filled with helium instead of brains. The room wasn’t just spinning; it was tilting, pitching like the deck of a ship in a storm.Bring me a drink, Killian had ordered.I took a step toward the bar cart.My foot didn’t find the floor. It found empty air.The sound of my own heartbeat was deafening—a thump-thump-thump that drowned out the crackle of the fire.Then, the sound stopped.My vision tunneled. The edges turned black, then gray, then white.I didn’t feel the impact.I didn’t feel my knees hit the rug. I didn’t feel my head crack against the corner of t

  • The Silence Of His Vows   Chapter 41

    The light finally won.It pierced through my eyelids even when they were closed, a searing white lance that cooked my brain inside my skull.I didn’t know how long I had been standing. My legs were no longer part of my anatomy; they were columns of fire that had long since burned down to ash.I swayed.Keep standing. If you fall, he adds an hour.But the command didn’t reach my muscles. The connection was severed.The room tilted sideways. The white walls dissolved.I fell.I hit the concrete not with a thud, but with a bone-jarring crack. My cheek slammed against the floor.Darkness—blessed, cool darkness swarmed the edges of my vision. I let it take me. I let the floor hold me.Splash.Ice-cold water hit my face.I gasped, sputtering, inhaling liquid. I choked, my body arching in a violent reflex.I opened my eyes.Killian stood over me. He held a metal buc

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