Semua Bab Prisoner of Shame: Bab 1 - Bab 10

David slid into the lecture hall like a shadow—precise, unnoticed, and exactly where he intended to be: two rows and three seats to the left of her.Brielle.She sat, as always, in the center row near the windows, her long blonde hair tucked neatly behind one ear as she whispered something to her roommate, Talia. The redhead laughed softly, nudging Brielle with her elbow. The sound didn’t carry, but David didn’t need it to. He watched her lips move, watched her eyes light up in that way they did when she was teasing—genuine, unguarded, a flash of sunshine through gray.He had been studying her for weeks now. Not just in class, but outside of it. He knew she lived in Stevenson Hall. Knew she and Talia shared a dorm room on the second floor. Knew her favorite coffee order from the cart outside Royce Hall and that she always chewed the end of her pen when taking notes. He knew she kept her head down, but not because she lacked confidence—because she’d learned not to expect anyone to look

As promised, David showed up at noon the next day.Brielle opened the door wearing a baby blue sundress that clung sweetly to her curves, the fabric light and fluttering with each breath. It dipped low enough to tease, but not enough to look like she knew it. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, soft tendrils escaping to frame her flushed cheeks. She was the picture of soft temptation—innocence painted over fire.David’s gaze slid over her, quiet and unhurried. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. The heat in his eyes said enough.His jacket was still folded over her arm. She held it out. “You left this.”He took it with a nod, folding it smoothly over his arm. “I was thinking,” he said, voice low and smooth, “a picnic might suit this perfect Sunday afternoon. What do you think?”Brielle’s lips curved, a light dancing behind her eyes. “That sounds perfect.”The drive was short, but the silence between them felt charged—like a held breath. He didn’t fill it with small t

Celia stood at the bathroom mirror, reapplying her lip gloss with hands that trembled no matter how tightly she clenched the tube.The bathroom was empty. Quiet except for the distant thump of bass behind the tiled walls.She took a slow breath. Smoothed her skirt. Reached for her mascara.And then—“Celia?”The voice was soft. Kind. Completely wrong.Celia jumped, the mascara wand slipping from her fingers and clattering into the sink. She caught her reflection as it happened—wide eyes, startled muscles, the echo of fear she’d trained herself to hide.“God, you scared me,” she laughed, too quick, too forced. She bent to retrieve the wand, praying her hands wouldn’t betray her. “Some guy bumped into me near the bar. Sent me flying into a stool. Wrecked my makeup.”Brielle stepped further inside, concern etched across her features. “Yikes. That sucks. Xander’s back and wondering where you disappeared to. I offered to check on you.”Celia straightened slowly. Forced a smile that felt li

David carried Brielle up the stairs like she was made of glass, his grip firm but reverent. Her body was limp in his arms—drained, emotionally and otherwise. She didn’t speak as he nudged open the guest room door, but her voice, soft and hoarse, caught the air like a prayer.“No. I want you to hold me... please, David. I don’t want to be alone.”Those words—shaken, small—slit something open in his chest. Something that pulsed and bled. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then ghosted his lips down the curve of her cheekbone. “Of course, baby. I’ll hold you all night.”He turned instead into his room—his sanctuary—and set her gently on the edge of the bed. Quietly, he rummaged through his dresser and offered her an old T-shirt and drawstring shorts. “These might work,” he said, voice low and steady. “I’ll change in the bathroom.”When he returned, the shorts lay folded on the floor. She was tucked under the covers, wearing only the oversized T-shirt and a pair of soft, pale panties

The next morning, Brielle woke first.Her body ached—not painfully, but deeply, like her muscles remembered what her heart hadn’t yet processed. She was sore in the places that mattered. Tender in ways that had nothing to do with flesh. But wrapped in warmth. Anchored by him.David’s arm was draped over her waist, possessive even in sleep, his leg tangled with hers, his breath warm against her crown. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek—slow, steady, like the world hadn’t shifted the night before.She pressed her lips to his chest. Once. Then again.He stirred beneath her, voice husky with sleep. “Morning. How do you feel?”She hesitated, then murmured, “A little sore… but good. Really good.”David’s mouth curved into a smile, but when he pulled back the sheets and saw the dried blood on her thighs, something changed. His jaw tightened. His eyes sharpened. Not with regret—but with a weighty, protective fury.“Let’s get you cleaned up.”He didn’t wait for her nod—just lifted