Semua Bab Claimed by havoc : Bab 11 - Bab 20

Roxana Wait, did he just threaten to kill my entire family? I blink my eyes a few times, hoping I’m seeing things but he’s still kneeling in front of me with so much anger emanating from the depths of his green eyes. Panic claws at my chest. I’d rather he kill me than find out the truth or hurt my family. Tristan stands to his full height and walks over to the door. I dash to the door and stand just in front of him, spreading my arms out. Shaking my head, the words fly out, “No, this marriage is more important, we need to have sex.” I say, hoping that would draw his attention from whatever cruel thing he’s about to do. He pauses and stares at me long, like I’ve lost my mind, then he chuckles, making his chest vibrate. It’s not filled with humor, instead, it’s deadly. Menacing. Yet I refuse to back down. This is the only way out. After this, he will eventually kill me, it's better to die than to watch my family die. My knees hit the floor and I fumble with his

Roxana My heart pounds against my ribs as the knocking persists. I can't believe this is how I'm going to die. Tristan moves away from me. “What the f*ck are you doing, Nikolai? Want to listen to me f*cking my wife?” The man by the door says, a slight tremor in his voice, “The elders are waiting outside and they are coming in.” Tristan walks to the table, grabs a knife, and slices his palm open. Blood immediately swells, and he presses a handkerchief to it before strolling to the door. He yanks it open and throws it at the man's feet. “There is it. Now disappear before I put a bullet through your skull and tell the elders I want to spend more time with my wife.” “O…okay.” The man picks up the handkerchief from the floor, scrutinizes it, and smiles. “Sure.” Then he leaves. Only after I hear his footsteps fade do I hit the floor. I stare at Tristan with bewilderment. Did he just save my life? Why? He deceived everyone and went against his family’s tradition. Tristan isn’t a man

Tristan. She takes a step back, then another until she’s running back inside. My hands clench beside me. What the f*ck is going on with her? She always finds a way to anger me every single second. When I turn back to them, they all lower their heads. I walk closer to Viktor, and he trembles a little. “Repeat what you said.” “ I… I…” “Are you messing with me?” “ I was just joking.” A dark laugh escapes me. “A joke? With my wife’s body? I should f*cking kill you right now.” Lucian comes up behind me. “Let it go, brother.” I shrug him off. “Don’t f*cking tell me what to do.” He goes silent and moves back to his seat. No one talks. No one dares look at me. Surprisingly, I flop back in my seat and pour myself another glass of vodka. I take a sip. The liquid burns my throat, doing nothing to cool the irritation under my skin. How dare she walk out like that? With those legs. They’re meant to be seen only by me. When will she understand her body belongs to me? Not her any

TristanRoxana bites her lips. Her chest rises and falls. Probably scared.For a while, I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she just said. “Marco disvirgined you? Hurt you so many times and gave you these ugly scars?”She nods. “Please don't hurt anybody because of me.”I laugh, low. But the sound explodes inside the room. She’s braver than I thought. But at the same time, that sort of bravery makes her stupid. After everything, she’s still trying to protect everyone, even when they've made it their mission to make her life a living hell.Memories dawn on me—the way she refuses to open her body to me, the fact that she ran away, and that she knows nothing about the marriage and was forced to comply.Marco read the contract—I made him read it. He knew marrying a virgin was a Kozlov tradition. He knew clearly that Roxana was not a virgin, yet he gave her to me.F*ck!My knuckles turn white. The urge to throw punches into the wall is overwhelming, but I remain standing, watching

Tristan I arrive at Oliana, an underground strip club I own, and park outside, stepping out and Texas Swiftly follows. The moment I head for the entrance, the atmosphere shifts. The bass hits the floor. Not loud to me, just there. A vibration curls through polished wood and bodies pretending not to notice me. The guard at the inner room door straightens the moment my shadow crosses the threshold. He doesn't speak; he opens the door. Inside, the club is alive in a way that is constant. Neon bleeds across skins, smoke curls through dim light, and women move their bodies as if they are part of the music. Men laugh too loudly when they don't realize who's watching. I walk in, and the room adjusts—slowly, like it’s remembering something it tried to forget. Viktor appears and bows slightly, “The goods are ready boss.” Then he begins walking toward the stairs leading underground. I follow, Texas walking beside me. The corridor narrows, the noise fading i