Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 11 - Chapitre 20

Morning light spilled across the penthouse like liquid gold, softening the hard edges of glass and steel. Grace blinked awake, disoriented for a moment, until the memories crashed down.The rooftop. The gunshots. Damien’s arms shielding her, his voice low and commanding as he guided her out of danger. The way he’d looked at her in the aftermath like she was the only anchor he had in the storm of his life.She sat up too quickly, heart racing. The sheets were cool where he should have been.For one breathless second, she thought maybe it had all been a dream. But the faint scent of him clean, sharp, with that darker undertone she couldn’t name clung to the air, grounding her in reality.She pushed the covers back and slipped out of bed, padding barefoot across the polished floor. The penthouse was silent, eerily so. She checked the massive living room, the kitchen, the shadowed corners of glass and chrome. Empty.Her pulse steadied. This was her chance.Grace hurried back to the bedroo

Grace had never imagined she’d get used to life in a cage, yet a strange rhythm crept into her days inside Damien’s penthouse. The mornings started with sunlight spilling through glass walls that looked out over the endless stretch of city. A view most would kill for, but to Grace, it felt like a reminder: no matter how far she could see, she couldn’t leave.She still made her own coffee, still moved through the kitchen with stubborn independence. But sometimes, she’d find Damien there before her, shirt sleeves rolled, pouring two mugs like he’d anticipated her. He’d hand her one without a word. Their fingers brushed. She told herself it meant nothing.Meals were the same kind of battlefield. Damien didn’t command her to sit beside him, but his gaze always lingered until she did. The dining table could have sat a dozen, yet it always ended with the two of them in quiet, tense silence. Sometimes she tried to provoke him with sharp remarks; sometimes she stayed silent, and the silence w

The night after the photo arrived, sleep was a stranger to Grace. Every creak of the old mansion, every whisper of wind against the window made her heart race. She had grown used to danger lurking outside, but now it felt like danger was inside her skin.By dawn, she dragged herself to Damien’s office, only to find him already there, suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, and a glass of whiskey untouched on the desk. His eyes were fixed on a single file.“Marcus Hale,” he said without looking up. The name came out like venom.Grace froze. She had heard the name before, whispered once by Damien in his sleep. Now, hearing it in the open, attached to the threat looming over them, made her stomach twist.“Who is he?” she asked, though part of her wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.Damien’s jaw flexed. “He used to be my brother.”Grace blinked. “Your… brother?”“Not by blood,” Damien clarified. He leaned back, eyes haunted by memories he usually buried. “But we grew up together. We were

The black car waited at the front gates before the sun had fully risen. Its windows were tinted, its engine a low growl, like a beast impatient to move. Grace stood on the mansion’s steps, a small overnight bag clutched in her hands, her heart a wild, unsteady rhythm.Damien appeared beside her, immaculately dressed despite the hour, every line of him carved with authority. His presence was as grounding as it was suffocating. He offered no explanation, no comfort only his hand extended toward the car.Grace hesitated. This was it. The moment she stepped off the cliff and into his world.“Last chance,” Damien said quietly, his eyes unreadable. “Say the word, and I’ll lock every door, guard every corner, and keep you away from it. But once you get in that car, Grace… there’s no turning back.”Her pulse thundered. Fear screamed at her to walk away. But the image of Marcus’s message burned hotter the flames drawn over her face, the proof that running or hiding would never save her.She sl

The safe room was silent except for Grace’s ragged breaths. The reinforced steel door sealed them in, muting the chaos outside. But the echoes of gunfire still rattled in her skull, each shot replaying like a heartbeat she couldn’t silence.Damien stood near the wall, gun still in his hand, his chest heaving with steady, controlled breaths. His shirt clung to him with sweat, dark patches spreading across the fabric. He looked carved from stone, but his eyes hard, blazing betrayed the storm inside.Grace pressed herself against the cold metal wall, clutching her arms around her body. Her whole frame trembled, not from the chill, but from the memory of Marcus’s voice.Come with me, and you live.The words clung to her like chains, each syllable a brand she couldn’t scrub away.Finally, she found her voice, thin and shaking. “He was here.”Damien’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”“He saw me. He ” Her throat closed around the memory. “He said I belonged to him.”At that, Damien’s head snapped towar