Luca Ivanov woke up to silence.

A heavy, suffocating kind of silence. The kind that wrapped around his body like chains, that made the air thick and hard to breathe.

His head was pounding. His skull throbbed with a dull, merciless pain, and when he tried to move, his limbs felt heavy. Wrong.

Something was off.

Where—?

His eyes flickered open, but the light was too much. A sharp, white brightness stabbed into his skull, forcing him to squeeze them shut again.

Think, Luca. What’s the last thing you remember?

His apartment.

The box.

The man at his door.

The struggle.

A blow to the head.

And now… this.

His breathing came faster. Panic clawed up his throat. He tried to move again, pushing against the fog in his limbs—and that’s when he felt it.

Leather.

Tight. Cold. Unforgiving.

Cuffs.

His wrists were bound.

Luca’s eyes snapped open.

He was in a bedroom. A massive one—too grand, too expensive, too unfamiliar. The walls were black marble, the floor smooth and polished. Dim golden light spilled from a crystal chandelier above him, casting eerie shadows over the sleek furniture.

The bed he was lying on wasn’t his.

The sheets were silk. Black. Expensive. He could feel them under his fingers, but what caught his attention was the weight around his wrists.

Silver cuffs.

Attached to a chain.

Luca jerked his hands, trying to pull free, but the cuffs didn’t budge. They were fastened to the headboard.

His stomach dropped.

He was trapped.

This wasn’t a dream.

This wasn’t a nightmare he could wake up from.

This was real.

A slow wave of pure terror washed over him, making his breath turn shallow.

No, no, no.

This couldn’t be happening.

Luca tried again—pull, twist, fight—but the metal didn’t give an inch.

Then—

A low, dark chuckle came from across the room.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Luca’s blood froze.

His head snapped toward the sound.

And that’s when he saw him.

Damien Volkov.

Sitting in a sleek leather armchair by the window, watching him.

His legs were crossed, his body relaxed, like he was watching something entertaining. A thick cigar rested between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily in the air. His sharp, ruthless features were illuminated by the city lights behind him, the faint gold glow casting shadows over his face.

A suit. Black. Tailored. Expensive.

Rings gleamed on his fingers.

His gloved hands rested casually on the armrests.

And around his throat—a thick gold chain.

Everything about him dripped wealth and power, but it wasn’t that that made Luca’s heart pound in terror.

It was his eyes.

Cold. Deep. Hungry.

Watching him like he was prey.

Luca’s breath hitched.

“What the fuck—” His voice cracked. He yanked at the cuffs again. “What the fuck is this?!”

Damien smiled.

A slow, cruel curve of his lips.

“Do you like it?” he murmured, gesturing to the room around them. “I had it prepared just for you.”

Luca’s stomach twisted.

Prepared?

How long had this been planned?

His heart pounded violently, his breath coming too fast.

“Let me go.” His voice was unsteady. “Right now.”

Damien let out a low hum, tapping his cigar against the edge of a gold ashtray.

“No.”

Luca yanked at the chains, his panic spiking. “I mean it! I—”

“You mean nothing.”

The words were soft. Amused.

But Luca felt them like a knife to the chest.

His breath hitched.

Damien stood.

The way he moved was slow, intentional, like he had all the time in the world. He walked toward the bed, exhaling a slow stream of smoke before setting his cigar aside.

His black leather gloves gleamed under the light as he tugged them tighter.

Then, without a word, he reached down—gripping Luca’s chin between his fingers.

Luca flinched.

Damien tilted his head, studying him.

“So delicate,” he murmured. His thumb brushed over Luca’s bottom lip, slow, testing. Possessive.

Luca’s breath stuttered.

He hated the way his body reacted—how his skin burned where Damien touched him, how his pulse quickened beneath the weight of that gaze.

He hated that he could still feel the fear—and something darker—curling in his stomach.

“I have a rule,” Damien murmured.

His voice was soft. Silky. Dangerous.

Luca swallowed hard.

Damien leaned closer, his scent—cologne and whiskey and smoke—wrapping around him.

“You don’t run from me.”

His fingers tightened just slightly.

“And yet…” His smirk deepened. “You tried.”

Luca’s heart pounded violently.

He shook his head, panic clawing at his throat. “I— I didn’t—”

“Shhh.”

Damien pressed a gloved finger against his lips.

Luca froze.

“That was your first mistake, sweetheart.” Damien’s eyes gleamed with something dark. Dangerous.

Luca shuddered.

“I won’t make it again,” he choked out.

Damien laughed.

Deep. Amused. Cruel.

“Oh, you will.” He brushed his thumb over Luca’s throat, tracing the faint flutter of his pulse.

His voice dropped into something darker.

“But don’t worry.”

His fingers curled, tilting Luca’s face up—forcing him to meet his gaze.

“I’ll enjoy teaching you obedience.”

--- : A Lesson in Obedience

Luca was drowning.

Not in water.

Not in fire.

But in something much, much worse.

Damien Volkov.

The weight of his presence was suffocating—his scent, his touch, his words, everything wrapping around Luca like a vice. Like chains that weren’t just physical but psychological, curling around his throat, his wrists, his mind.

Luca had been fighting, but it was like struggling against a hurricane.

And Damien enjoyed it.

That was the worst part.

He could see it in those dark, glinting eyes—the amusement, the hunger. Like he was entertained by Luca’s defiance, as if the fight only made him more eager to break him.

Luca lay on the silk sheets, his wrists still bound to the headboard, his body tense as Damien loomed over him.

His breath hitched as the older man leaned in closer, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down Luca’s throat.

A test.

A reminder.

Luca’s pulse thundered beneath Damien’s touch, and the bastard smirked.

“You’re trembling,” Damien murmured. His voice was low, indulgent, as if he was savoring every second of Luca’s fear.

Luca hated him.

He jerked his head to the side, ripping his throat away from Damien’s touch.

“Get the fuck off me,” he spat.

For a long moment, Damien simply stared at him.

Then, he chuckled.

It was a low, rich sound, dark amusement curling around the edges.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Damien’s gloved fingers gripped Luca’s chin again, this time tighter. Unforgiving.

Luca’s breath hitched as Damien forced him to meet his gaze.

“You still think you have a choice?” Damien whispered.

Luca’s heart slammed against his ribs.

Damien tilted his head, his grip unyielding.

“You don’t.”

His other hand moved suddenly, gripping Luca’s throat.

Not tight enough to choke—just enough to remind him.

Luca froze.

His entire body locked up, his breath shuddering in his lungs.

Damien’s thumb brushed against his pulse, feeling the way it raced beneath his skin.

“So delicate,” he murmured, almost absently.

Luca’s throat bobbed. “I—”

A gloved finger pressed against his lips.

“Shhh.”

Damien smirked at the way Luca shuddered. At the way his body reacted, no matter how much he tried to resist.

Luca wanted to tear himself away.

Wanted to scream, fight, bite, claw—

But he was cuffed. Bound. Completely at Damien’s mercy.

And Damien knew it.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Luca’s ear.

“You can make this easier for yourself, you know.”

Luca turned his face away. Defiant. Furious.

“Go to hell.”

Damien’s smile widened.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred. “You’re already there.”

And then, suddenly—he was gone.

Luca gasped as Damien released him, the warmth of his presence vanishing as he pulled back.

The room felt colder.

He watched as Damien stepped away, tugging his gloves back into place with slow, meticulous precision.

Then, Damien’s voice dropped into something colder. Sharper.

“You disobeyed me.”

Luca’s stomach tightened.

“I—”

Damien’s head tilted slightly. Waiting.

Luca’s pulse skipped.

There was no way out of this. No way to talk his way out, no way to lie, no way to—

“Do you know what happens to those who disobey me, Luca?”

Luca swallowed hard. His mouth was dry.

He didn’t answer.

Damien smirked.

“You will.”

And then he was moving again, stepping away toward the door.

Luca’s stomach dropped.

Wait.

Where was he going?

Panic flared in his chest.

“W-Wait—”

Damien paused at the doorway, glancing back at him.

A single bored, amused glance.

Then, he stepped out—leaving Luca alone.

The door clicked shut.

Luca exhaled shakily, his chest heaving.

His wrists ached. His body felt strange, caught between fear and something else, something horribly, horribly wrong.

Because even now—even after everything—

His body still burned where Damien had touched him.

And he hated it.

He twisted against the cuffs, testing them, pulling, yanking—but they didn’t budge.

He was still trapped.

And now, for the first time, he had to face an even worse realization.

If Damien had left him alone…

It meant he was planning something much, much worse.

---

End of Chapter

This chapter was all about control, power, and psychological torment.

Damien is colder, crueler—but also mixing in twisted moments of gentleness.

Luca fought back—but Damien enjoys the struggle, knowing he will break eventually.

Now, Luca is alone, helpless, and dreading whatever comes next.