All Chapters of MINE TO OWN : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The aftermath of the kiss lingered in the air long after their lips had pulled apart. The taste of Andrei's lips was still on Zane’s skin—hot, demanding and unrelenting. His body still ached from the brutal clash of their wills, the possession in every touch, the rage in every movement. But something had shifted. The wall between them had cracked. And with it came a choice Zane hadn’t considered until now, one he couldn’t escape, no matter how far he ran. Andrei’s words echoed in Zane’s head like a blaring siren: “You’re mine… and only death can change that.” Zane hadn’t responded, not really. What the hell was going through his mind when he said 'death it is'?. He thought to himself. But his body had already betrayed him. Running wouldn't be so easy now. The next morning, the estate was still. It was a silence that spoke louder than any words. Zane walked through the halls like a ghost, the collar tight around his neck like a reminder of his place in this house. There was no l

Morning came cold and gray, but Zane was already awake, fully dressed, and waiting. He didn’t eat. He didn’t speak. He watched. Every corner. Every corridor. He studied the way the guards shifted nervously. Not because of the murder—no, they’d seen worse—but because the equilibrium had been disturbed. The perfect house, the perfect order, the illusion of control. And now, someone was breaking the rules. Andrei hadn't summoned him. Which made it worse. Zane found himself by the north terrace. From there, he could see the estate gardens in all of its glory, sprawling over the vast land, the maze-like hedges, the men posted near the outer wall. It was beautiful in that cruel, European way—cold stone and colder snow. Joana appeared beside him, silent as always. She lit a cigarette. "He's watching you more now," she said. Zane didn’t ask who. "You make him nervous," she added, smoke curling around her like a veil. "That's rare." "Is that good or bad?" Zane asked. She exhaled slow

The next morning, the air was still heavy with the scent of candle wax, sweat, and sex. The stone floor beneath him—them still felt cold, the velvet drapes a cushion between the hard, cold floor and his body. Somewhere, far off, morning had begun to rise, but this room—this confessional as Andrei had called it—remained suspended in time. The candles had burned low and melted into shallow puddles on the iron candle stands, they flickered faintly almost spent and exhausted by their vigil.Andrei was gone.Zane’s limbs ached. His muscles remembered every motion, every grip and grasp, every moan, every gasp, they remembered every shudder of surrender. But it was the absence beside him that truly stung. No warmth left in the spot where Andrei had once knelt. No trace, except for the feeling of a kiss Zane could still feel on his mouth, the lingering his scent on his skin.He dressed slowly. His shirt—torn. Belt—missing. His jeans were rumpled, boots abandoned near the door. He found his re

The cold wasn’t biting so much as it was consuming. It was the kind of cold that didn’t bite at your skin but slipped under it, entering into your bones and soul. Snow covered the evergreen trees outside like sugar on pastries, the skies were a pale blur of lavender and silver.Zane sat by the window in the upstairs library, a thick wool throwover slung around his shoulders. The fire crackled behind him, but he didn’t move closer. He watched the snow with distant eyes, a cup of untouched black coffee cooling in his hands. The silence in the lodge today wasn’t comforting. Wasn't soothing. It was deliberate. Suspended. Like the screeching calm after an explosion.Katherina hadn’t been seen since that explosive night two days ago.Neither had Joana.The house had gone still in a way that reeked of calculation.Andrei, on his part, had barely left Zane’s side. It was a dangerous thing. But not in the way Zane once thought—the threat of violence or captivity. But now, it was something subt

Zane returned to his bedroom with a growing sense of uneasiness, the kind that presses into the back of your throat and makes breathing feel heavier than it should. The snow outside had lightened into a soft hush, but the quiet didn’t feel peaceful, it felt orchestrated. He froze. There was someone sitting in his chair. Crossed legs. Wine glass. Scarlet nails. A sharp silhouette cloaked in the shadows. “Katherina?” he whispered, heart hammering so hard he thought it might crack a rib. She looked up from the rim of her glass like she’d been waiting all day for him to arrive. A smile curved her painted lips. Not warm. Not cruel. Just a simple smile. But it was never simple with Katherina. “Hello, darling,” she said smoothly. “Miss me?” Zane’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She rose from the chair in one fluid motion, gliding across the room like a shadow given form. She never really walked, her feet never seemed to touch the floor long. She couldn't be tethered to the grou