All Chapters of Claimed by havoc : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Roxana My brain stops functioning for a foolish second. I bite the inside of my cheeks, trying to make sense of everything that’s happening. Tristan just called me beautiful. The butterflies rumbling deep in my stomach intensify. “ Say the word Roxana, tell me you want me, that you want my d*ck inside of you.” I should deny it. Admitting will make me look stupid, yet my lips move before I can stop them: “I want you so much Tristan.” That’s enough for him. He flips me over until I’m on my knees, until my ass is looking at him straight in the face. And he grabs it and kisses both ass cheeks. A sharp tingling feeling skyrockets through me. Tristan does the last thing I expect. His large palm comes down on my ass hard, making me jolt. My brain flies out the window, and I moan so loud I’m briefly grateful we are alone in the house. “Moan for me wifey,” Another spank, this one on the other cheek. Oh my God, I’m dripping. My pu**y juice trails down my inner thighs. It aches s

Tristan I enter the club and walk straight to the torture room, Marco is where i last saw him. More bloodied. More battered. Lucian appears and drops stacks of files on the table and leaves instantly. Leaving both of us alone. The room reeks of fear, blood, and desperation. A cruel smile paints my lips, paired with a thrilling rush of adrenaline. Marco hangs his head, breathing unevenly. I stand by the table, scrolling through the files Lucian placed in front of me. Bank accounts. Properties. Investments. Small companies. Everything Marco spent years building. Everything he thought would protect him. “Do you know what I find interesting?” I ask him. He doesn't answer, so I look up at him. “Answer me.” Slowly, he raises his head, his face pale, broken, terrified. Yet somehow, he still believes he can survive this. He’s wrong. I have already decided his fate. The only question is how much I take before I bury him. I toss a file into his lap. It slides to the floor. He stares

Roxana “It’s not what you think,” I say, hoping somehow I can erase what happened a few minutes ago. Tristan watches me, the corner of his lips curls up a little and I almost faint. “ I see.” Scrambling off the bed, I adjust my clothes, run into the bathroom, and slam the door shut then place my head against it. My pulse thumps so loud I’m afraid it will be heard throughout the house. Tristan doesn't chase me, or try to talk to me, he lets me be which I'm grateful for, at least until I step back into the bedroom and he’s already waiting for me. His eyes are dark, so dark. “What were you doing in the bathroom? Went inside to finish what you started?” Heat floods my face, why do I have to experience this kind of shame? Especially to Tristan, he will taunt me for years. “It’s not what you think,” I repeat, even though it sounds foolish to my ears. I have no other word to justify what I just did. “ I think so many things Roxana; the question is, can you handle them?” It’s

Roxana “Tell me what?” I repeat. What the hell is she talking about? Tristan growls beside me, “ Carmen.” Then she shrugs like it’s no big deal, “What! I was just having a conversation with your wife.” Grinding his teeth, he says, “Why don't you get the f*ck and look for something else to do?” “Oh ouch, so harsh. Fine, no problem, I shall leave now.” She catwalks away, and Tristan’s eyes stay on her until she disappears around the corner. My pulse pounds so loudly I can hear it. My gaze darts to him, and he looks away. I open my mouth to speak, but his mother interrupts, “Roxana sweetheart, do you mind helping me in the bedroom?” I smile, “Of course, ma’am.” “It’s mother.” “Of course, mother.” “Right.” She grabs me and leads me away from Tristan into a large bedroom, which I assume is her matrimonial bedroom. The room is luxurious. Red couches are arranged neatly everywhere, and the curtains are also red. My eyes fall on the dresses lying on the bed, one blue, the other

Roxana I run through the hallway as fast as my legs can carry me. When I reach the end, I stop and clutch the wall, trying to catch my breath and compose myself before walking back to the dining room. Wiping the tears from my face, I draw a long, steady breath, ignoring the slight shake of my body. After making sure I look calm, I walk slowly into the dining room. Everyone looks up, of course they do—the room is so quiet, like they all stopped talking when they noticed me. Tristan’s mother’s smile fades a little when she sees my face. “Roxana?” she calls softly. I force a smile. “I'm fine.” But the answer comes out too fast, too fake. Texas studies me across the table, her eyes narrowing as if she knows I'm lying. Even Tristan’s father looks up from his food, his sharp gaze roaming over me as if trying to figure out what happened. I hate it. I hate that everyone sees through me. So I do the only thing I can think of—pretend I'm fine, pretend my inside isn’t shattering for a r