Emily’s POV

A soft sensation between my legs stirred me awake. My body ached in ways I had never known before—sore, bruised, and completely spent. A low moan escaped my lips before I could stop it, my back arching instinctively at the soothing touch. It felt good. Too good.

Then realization slammed into me like a tidal wave. It wasn’t a towel. It was him.

Panic surged through me, and I tried to move away, but before I could even shift an inch, Alex growled low in his throat, gripping my thighs with bruising intensity. His hold was firm, possessive—a silent warning. That’s when I noticed the undeniable truth.

I was naked.

The room was dark, but I could still make out his sharp, menacing features. Shadows danced across his face, making him look even more dangerous, even more untouchable. His eyes burned into mine, unreadable yet intoxicating.

And just when I was about to fall over the edge, he stopped.

A frustrated whimper left my lips before I could catch myself.

Alex smirked. "No need to be a brat now, little one," he murmured, crawling up my body until he was looming over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

His hand gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. It was suffocating—his intensity, his raw dominance.

"I never wanted to do that, Alex," I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. "I swear… they forced me. They—they would’ve killed you. I didn’t know what to do."

The dam broke. Hot, uncontrollable tears spilled from my eyes, soaking my cheeks. I sobbed, my body trembling beneath him.

Alex pulled back, his expression unreadable. For a split second, I thought he was going to leave me. The thought made my stomach twist in agony.

He hated me.

I should have known. No one could ever truly love me.

Alex stood up, his footsteps heavy as he disappeared into the adjacent room. My heart clenched. My throat burned. He was disgusted by me.

I forced myself up, but the moment I moved, a sharp pain shot between my legs. A strangled gasp left me, and I collapsed onto the floor, my body shaking, my tears flowing without control.

I hated myself.

I stabbed him.

Suddenly, two strong arms wrapped around me.

"Shhh… no need to cry, kotenok." His voice was softer this time, almost… comforting.

Before I could respond, Alex lifted me into his arms effortlessly. He carried me into the bathroom, and my breath hitched at the sight before me.

The bathtub was filled with warm, bubbly water, steam rising in soft curls.

We weren’t in the mansion anymore.

The realization hit me—we were in the cottage.

Alex set me down on the sink counter and wordlessly pulled the oversized shirt over my head, leaving me bare. My face burned, but I didn’t fight him. I couldn’t.

Then, he stepped into the tub with me, the warm water swallowing us both. I melted into the heat, my body sighing in relief.

A gasp left me when his hand trailed between my thighs, his touch possessive, deliberate. I tried to stop him, gripping his wrist in protest.

"Don’t," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Alex growled, his grip tightening. "Don’t stop me from touching what’s mine."

I swallowed hard, my hands falling to my sides.

"Let me take care of you, kotenok," he murmured, his voice dangerously low. "I know you're sore. But this little pussy is mine. I’ve already proven it by making it bleed."

A shiver ran down my spine.

His fingers moved with expert precision, massaging me gently, coaxing me into relaxation. He cleaned me thoroughly, his touch lingering, possessive. The contrast from his brutality hours ago to this newfound gentleness sent a whirlwind of emotions crashing through me.

I let him.

When he finished, he washed my hair, massaged my scalp, and ran the cloth over my bruised skin. It was intimate, terrifyingly so.

Once we were done, he carried me back to bed, dried me off, and to my surprise—he stayed.

I expected him to leave, to distance himself, but instead, he pulled me against his chest, wrapping me in his warmth.

A soft kiss pressed against my forehead.

I let myself sink into the comfort of his arms, letting sleep claim me once again.

Morning

When I woke up, the bed beside me was empty.

Panic fluttered in my chest for a moment before the door creaked open, revealing Alex. He walked in, his gaze immediately locking onto mine. Without hesitation, he strode forward and kissed my forehead.

"Good morning, little one," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"

I hesitated before nodding.

Alex’s jaw clenched. "Words, kotenok. I need words."

"I—I feel good," I whispered, my voice still laced with sleep.

He hummed in approval before lifting me effortlessly into his arms. Relief flooded me—I doubted I could even walk after last night.

As he carried me downstairs, I took in my surroundings. The cottage was cozy. Wooden floors, warm lighting, a fireplace crackling softly in the distance.

And then I saw it.

The dining table was filled with food. Pancakes, bacon, soup—it was all there, perfectly arranged.

"You made breakfast?" I asked, surprised.

He placed me on the kitchen island, standing between my legs as he poured me a bowl of soup.

"I did, little one," he said simply.

I stared at him, stunned. Most men in his position wouldn’t even think about cooking, let alone serving someone.

He lifted a spoonful of soup to my lips, silently urging me to taste it. I hesitated before taking a small sip—and instantly moaned at the taste.

It was delicious.

A smirk tugged at his lips. He continued feeding me, watching me with an intensity that made my stomach twist.

"We’re staying here for a few days," he announced.

I hummed in response.

Then, setting the spoon down, I reached for his face, cupping his jaw between my hands.

"Alex… forgive me. Please."

His eyes darkened, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then, his lips parted. "I’m not angry at you, little one. I can never be."

A lump formed in my throat.

"But I am angry," he continued, his tone hardening. "I’m angry that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me what was bothering you."

He was right.

I should have told him.

"I—I was scared, Alex. They said they would kill you… kill everyone. I didn’t know what to do."

Alex exhaled slowly before pulling me into his arms.

I buried my face into his neck, wrapping my legs around his waist, clinging to him like he was my only anchor in this world.

"That’s okay, little one," he murmured against my hair.

Then he pulled back slightly, his face turning serious.

"But there’s something we need to talk about."

I blinked up at him, confused. "Talk to me… about what?"

His next words sent my heart into a tailspin.

"We’re getting married in three days."

Author’s Note:

Hey, readers!

This chapter was intense, I know. Alex and Emily’s relationship is dark, twisted, and full of obsession and control. There’s no soft romance here—only power, possession, and a dangerous love that’s impossible to escape.

What do you think? Is Emily truly trapped, or is a part of her drawn to the darkness? Let me know in the comments!

Stay tuned—things are only getting darker.