Lahat ng Kabanata ng OWNED BY THE ENEMY, His Dark Claim: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Alessandro’s POV Morning broke too sharply for my liking, light streaming across the long dining hall and catching on the silverware until it looked like everything was forged in steel. The table was set with precision—fresh bread still warm from the oven, slices of cured meats, porcelain cups steaming faintly with coffee. Yet despite the abundance, the air in the room was cold, stripped of anything resembling comfort. Amara was already seated when I entered, her posture collected, her movements deliberate. She lifted her cup with both hands, almost as if to anchor herself, and in that moment, the faint glint caught my eye. The ring. Still on her finger. I had expected her to remove it by now, to set it aside on her bedside table or slip it into a drawer as a quiet act of rebellion, or perhaps of surrender. But no—it remained where I had placed it, snug around her fingers, gleaming against her skin. Not worn carelessly, either. Her hand curved protectively around the

Alessandro’s POV “Faster,” I said. Damian glanced at me from the driver’s seat, his foot already heavy on the accelerator, but at my command, he pressed harder. The tires hummed against the road, the engine straining as the city blurred past. We could not afford to miss him. The hotel loomed ahead, its mable facade gleaming with money and discretion. Inside, the lobby smelled of polish and imported lilies. Damian strode to the desk, his presence sharp enough to make the receptionist flinch before she even looked up. “We’re here to see Ethan Blackwood.” His tone left no room for misunderstanding. The receptionist shifted uneasily, lowering her eyes to the screen. “I’m sorry, sir. Mr Blackwood just checked out. He left for the airport less than an hour ago. The words landed like lead. I felt my jaw tighten, though outwardly. I remained composed. Damian, however, couldn't quite hide his frustration. His shoulders stiffened, his lips pressed thin—disappointment written ac

Amara’s POV Silence should have broken me. Alessandro’s indifference, the way he looked through me as though I were already gone—it should have hollowed me out. And maybe, for a breath, it did. But when I lay awake through the long hours of the night, the silence changed shape. It was no longer just his wall shutting me out. It was also the space in which something else took root. By morning, that fracture inside me no longer felt like weakness. It burned instead, a thin ember lodged beneath my ribs. Every word left unsaid between us, every cold dismissal, every door I could not open—they fed it. And as the day began, with its sharp scent of antiseptic and the echo of the doctor’s reproach, I realized I had carried that ember with me here. It was small, fragile still. But it was mine. And for the first time, I wondered if silence might be the soul from which my defiance would grow. The hospital smelled of antiseptic and exhaustion, and the doctor’s words pressed down on me lik

Amara’s POV The corridor was quiet when I stepped out for a glass of water. The silence of the mansion was never truly empty; it pressed in from all sides, thick with things unsaid. Halfway down the hall, I paused. There it was again—that strange prickle at the back of my neck, as if eyes lingered on me from just beyond the shadows. I turned slowly, my breath caught in my chest. Nothing. Only the faint sway of a curtain, the sign of an old house. Still, I carried the unease back with me, the glass trembling faintly in my hand. By morning, I sought comfort in ritual. The kitchen was hushed, filled with the earthy warmth of freshly ground coffee. I cupped the steaming mug between my palms, grounding myself in its familiar scent, when the door creaked open. “Elena,” I greeted softly as she stepped inside, she smiled, but it faltered at the edges. The limps were small, almost concealed, but my eyes caught them instantly. “You were awake last night, weren't you?” I asked, offerin

Amara’s POV Silence follows a person differently than words. Words bruise, echo, demand answers. Silence burrows. It slips into your chest and nests there until every breath feels like it belongs to someone else. Alessandro’s silence was no longer just an absence—it had become a wall. A wall I pressed against again, and again even when I swore I would stop. And this morning, for one fleeting instant, I thought I saw him in the shadows beyond the kitchen door, watching. Almost. But the moment vanished before I could be sure, leaving only the same barrier of distance and restraint. By the time the sun fully broke the horizon, that ember inside me had hardened into something sharper: not despair, not yet strength, but the refusal to vanish. I carried that refusal with me into the day— and it was tested the moment Victor found me. The clink of porcelain had just settled when his voice slid into the kitchen like smoke. “Amara.” I stiffened. My fingers tightened around the edge