Semua Bab MINE TO OWN : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Zane woke to silence—not the peaceful kind, but the heavy, anticipatory quiet of a house that watched and potentially under attack. The morning light filtered through the high arched windows of the East Wing suite Andrei had relocated him to two nights ago. With marble walls and velvet drapes, security cameras tucked discreetly into ceiling corners, it was a prison masquerading as privilege, as luxury. His ribs, arms and body ached from his sparring session with the estate’s private guard last night. That also had been new. Andrei had ordered it, but not as a punishment—"Let him learn," he’d said, not bothering to watch. But Zane had felt those eyes regardless, unseen, but always there. He rose slowly, dragging his aching limbs out of bed and to the mirror. Fresh purple-blue bruises coloured his skin. They were ugly reminders of how easily these men, these people could remake him in their image. But they hadn’t broken him. He prayed they never will. He shaved in silence. Dresse

Zane woke up to the scent of rain and freshly cut grass, it still clung to the stone walls outside filling the air around the estate with it's fresh green smell. He found it refreshing. He didn’t remember falling asleep, only that the memories of the other night. The sound of Andrei’s voice. The previous night, him locking the door behind him as he entered into the study. He had wanted Andrei to make a move. He wanted him to react, physically, needed him to. The slow-burn of whatever sick game they were playing was now eating him alive. He lay still now, eyes on the ceiling, sheets tangled around his hips. An ache, low and heavy in his core.Andrei’s voice still haunted him."Good boy."He blinked slowly, and for a second, Zane wasn’t sure if he was more angry or more aroused. Perhaps both.A tray had been delivered—breakfast. He left it untouched. The coffee grew cold.He got up, showered, dressed in black again. The color suited him now, like a camouflage in a house made from blood

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