Lahat ng Kabanata ng Damien's Willing Captive : Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

ISABELLA’S POV It started with blood. Thick, dark, seeping down the walls of a hotel room I didn’t remember checking into. The bed beneath me was soaked. The sheets clung to my thighs, warm and sticky. My chest heaved. My hands trembled as I pushed myself upright, but the world tilted sideways like a broken carousel. A man stood at the window. His back to me. Black suit. Broad shoulders. Head tilted just enough to show a sharp jawline—but his face blurred, melting at the edges like wax in a fire. No matter how hard I squinted, I couldn’t make him out. "Who are you?" I whispered. He didn’t turn. Instead, he slowly raised a hand… and pressed it flat against the windowpane. Blood smeared across the glass like a child’s drawing. I backed away—but the room stretched with every step, the walls pulling away like elastic. I couldn’t escape. The man stepped backwards towards me, still facing the window. “Do you want to see my face?” he asked softly. I didn’t. I did. I c

ISABELLA’S POV “Why do you think she wants to see me?” I muttered as we neared the tall double doors, my hand tucked inside Jace’s arm. “Probably wants to introduce you to her friends,” Jace said, voice dry. “And, you know—casually try to scare you away. Again.” “Oh geez. Are you going to give me a bonus for the emotional trauma?” I asked, pausing before we reached the door. “I’m going to give you a bonus, alright,” he whispered in a hoarse voice, leaning closer like he might bite my lips off. My brain short-circuited. And then— Click. The door creaked open. “You might want to come in now,” came the glacial voice of Satan’s favorite daughter—aka Jace’s mother. Mrs Elena Salvador. I braced myself. Her eyes landed on me like I was something sticky on the bottom of a Louboutin heel. “What’s your name again?” I blinked once. Slowly. Then smiled. Sweet. Sharp. Lethal. “I've told you my name a couple of times. But since you chose not to remember, you can ask yo

ISABELLA’S POV "I think someone’s coming," I whispered, breath catching in my throat. Jace didn’t hesitate. His grip tightened around my waist and with a sudden jerk, he pulled me aside. We crouched low behind a tall floral centerpiece, barely breathing. His phone was already in his hand, the screen casting a faint glow on his furrowed face. “If maintenance wants to keep their jobs,” he growled under his breath, “they better get the lights back on in ten seconds or less.” He tapped the call icon, voice clipped. “Do I need to remind you how to do your fucking job?” He growled into the phone. Around us, panic thickened. A woman shrieked somewhere near the bar. More gasps followed, then murmurs rising in waves. Guests switched on their phone flashlights, beams cutting through the dark like panicked fireflies. “What’s going on?!” “Is this planned?” “Someone turn on the damn lights!” And then— A scream. A raw, painful scream that made my skin crawl. The lights flick

ISABELLA’S POV Jace shot up from his seat the second the doctor appeared. Jessie practically leapt beside him, her hands trembling. “Is she okay?!” she choked out, eyes wide, voice sharp with fear. The doctor paused. His white coat was dusted with faint smears of blood, gloves hanging from one hand, and his face wore the practiced neutrality of someone used to delivering devastating news. “She’s alive,” he said carefully. A collective breath was released. Jessie’s knees nearly gave out. Jace caught her by the elbow, steadying her. But the doctor’s expression didn’t change. “She lost a lot of blood. The knife punctured her left flank and ruptured a blood vessel. We’ve managed to stabilize her for now, but she’s going to need a transfusion—urgently. Her blood type is AB negative, and we don’t have enough in the bank.” “I’ll do it,” Jace said instantly. “Test me. Take what you need.” The doctor gave a single nod. “Come with me.” Without hesitation, Jace followed him

ISABELLA’S POV My hand froze on the handle when I overheard the quiet but strained conversation inside the hospital room. “…we need to sue,” Jace was saying, voice low and fierce. “She needs to be taught a lesson. If it’s about money, we have it. We have the resources, the lawyers, the reach. We have everything. Why are you against this? Why are you trying to be lenient with the person who almost murdered you?” There was a pause. A rustle of sheets. Then Mrs. Salvador’s voice—softer, but somehow cutting deeper. “Just listen to me, Jace. For once, listen.” “Mom, no—no, you listen,” Jace snapped, frustration raw in his tone. “Anastasia stabbed you. She nearly killed you. Jessie and I were covered in your blood. Like I said, if this is about money, we have lots of it. If this is about connections, we have thousands of those too. We have everything we need to bury her legally and financially and make sure she never even breathes the same air as our family again. So why are you d