Damien's Pov

Damien’s world was different in his dream. Gone were the bloodstained halls and the weight of power crushing down on him. Instead, the air was filled with warmth, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet drifting through the house.

The soft murmur of laughter reached his ears, and when he turned, he saw Luca standing in the kitchen, wearing a loose white sweater that draped over his frame, looking so soft and impossibly radiant. His hair was slightly tousled, his lips curled into the sweetest smile as he plated breakfast. Sunlight filtered through the windows, bathing him in a golden glow.

Damien couldn’t move for a moment, just watching, mesmerized. This was a life he had never dared to dream of. A life where Luca was his in the purest, most undeniable way.

“Damien, you’re staring.”

The teasing lilt in Luca’s voice made something warm coil in his chest. Before he could respond, a small child barreled into his legs, giggling. A boy—his son?—with dark hair and bright eyes that mirrored his own, clutching onto him as if he belonged there. Another child, a little girl with Luca’s soft features and Damien’s intense gaze, tugged at Luca’s sweater, demanding to be picked up. Luca, laughing, hoisted her onto his hip effortlessly.

His.

All of them were his.

Damien stepped forward, drawn like a man in a trance. Luca turned to him with that tender, knowing look, holding out a plate of breakfast with one hand while balancing their daughter with the other.

“Eat first,” Luca chided gently. “You work too hard.”

A chuckle rumbled in Damien’s chest. He reached out, catching Luca’s wrist and tugging him closer, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple. The scent of him was intoxicating—clean, warm, familiar. Luca huffed but leaned into him, his fingers curling against Damien’s chest.

His housewife. His Luca. His kids.His perfect life.

The kids chattered around them, their laughter filling the space like music. Luca let out a small sigh, his free hand reaching up to brush Damien’s hair back, his touch soft and adoring. Damien wanted to drown in it.

“You’re happy?” Luca asked quietly, searching his face.

Damien cupped Luca’s cheek, running his thumb over his lower lip before leaning in to steal a kiss—deep and slow, savoring the sweetness of it. “I’ve never been happier.”

Luca’s cheeks flushed, his smile softening. “Then you should wake up now.”

The dream shattered.

Damien’s eyes flew open, and the warmth was gone. He was back in his cold, vast bedroom, alone. No laughter, no sunlight. Just the eerie silence of reality pressing down on him.

His hand clenched into a fist. The dream had felt so real, so painfully, beautifully real.

He let out a slow exhale, running a hand down his face.

No. It wasn’t just a dream.

It was a glimpse of what could be.

And Damien would make sure that future became reality—one way or another.

********* Damien sat on the edge of his bed, fingers digging into his temples as the remnants of his dream clung to him like a cruel whisper. The warmth, the laughter, the feeling of Luca in his arms—it was all gone, replaced by the suffocating cold of reality. His chest felt tight, his pulse unsteady. He had never wanted anything so badly.

And he would have it.

His gaze snapped toward the doorway as his most trusted guard, Viktor, entered without knocking. "Sir, the boy has been quiet today. No attempts to contact his family, no attempts to escape."

Damien smirked, tilting his head back. "Good. He's learning."

Viktor hesitated. "But—"

Damien's expression darkened instantly. "But what?"

"He... he spoke to your wife."

The silence was deafening. Damien stood, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the weight of his rage. "What did she say to him?"

"We don't know yet. She intercepted him while he was in the garden with the little one."

His dream flashed in his mind—Luca holding their child, smiling, soft and perfect. A grotesque mockery of it clawed at him now. His wife had spoken to Luca. His wife, who had begun to see the shift in him.

Damien’s lip curled. No one would interfere. Not her. Not anyone.

"Bring Luca to me. Now."

Minutes later, the door opened, and Luca was shoved inside. His hair was slightly tousled, his lips parted as if he had been about to protest. Damien took in the sight greedily—the flush on his cheeks from the cold air, the hesitation in his big, expressive eyes.

"What did she say to you?" Damien demanded, stepping forward.

Luca's brows furrowed. "She—she just asked me how I was."

"And?"

Luca looked away, his fingers curling at his sides. "She said... she said she understands what it's like to be trapped."

A slow, sharp chuckle escaped Damien. "Is that what she thinks? That she understands you? That she understands me?"

He moved closer, caging Luca against the wall, one gloved hand pressing against his jaw. Luca flinched, but Damien leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Tell me, did you believe her? Did you think, even for a second, that she could save you?"

Luca swallowed hard, but he didn’t answer. Damien’s grip tightened.

"Answer me, Luka."

The name sent a shiver down Luca’s spine. The way Damien said it—possessive, intimate—felt like a brand scorching into his skin.

"No," Luca finally whispered. "I didn’t believe her."

Damien's smirk returned. His Luca was learning.

"Good." He released him, stepping back as if he hadn't just threatened to break him. "Because you and I both know there’s no escape. Not from me."

He turned, his mind already spinning. His wife had overstepped. That would be corrected.

But more importantly, Luca was starting to see the truth.

And Damien would make sure he saw nothing else.

*********