---

Luca didn’t know how long it had been since Damien left him.

Time had lost all meaning.

His throat was parched, lips cracked and dry. Hunger gnawed at his insides, a dull ache that twisted and coiled, but the thirst was worse. It made his head spin, made his thoughts blur, reduced him to a shivering, desperate mess.

And the cuffs. The damn cuffs.

Silver and unyielding, they kept his arms pinned above his head, muscles aching from the strain. He’d struggled at first—yanked, pulled, twisted—until his wrists were raw and bleeding. Now, he barely had the strength to tug at them.

The room was cold, the silk sheets beneath him a cruel contrast to his own feverish skin.

He was losing his mind.

And Damien knew it.

The door would open sometimes, but it was never Damien. Just silent, suited men who would come in, look at him, and leave without a word. No food. No water. No release.

It was a game.

A slow, methodical breaking.

And Luca was beginning to crack.

He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut against the hot sting of tears. He couldn’t cry. Not now. Not here.

He wouldn’t give Damien the satisfaction.

But it was hard—so damn hard—when his body was betraying him like this. When his mind was fraying at the edges, unraveling under the strain of constant, unending helplessness.

And then—finally—the door opened.

Luca’s eyes snapped open, his body tensing instinctively.

Damien stepped in, his presence filling the room like a shadow, heavy and suffocating.

He was immaculate, as always—black suit perfectly tailored, gold rings glinting on his fingers, black leather gloves pristine. His cold blue eyes swept over Luca, taking in his disheveled state, the tremors in his limbs, the wildness in his eyes.

Damien’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk.

“You look awful, sweetheart.”

Luca swallowed, his throat so dry it hurt. “P-please…”

The word slipped out before he could stop it, and he hated himself for it.

Damien’s smirk widened. “Please what?”

Luca squeezed his eyes shut, humiliation burning through him. “Water. Just…please.”

Damien hummed, a thoughtful sound, as if considering his request. “You disobeyed me.”

Luca’s heart sank.

“And disobedience has consequences.”

Luca trembled, every muscle tense with desperation. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Damien moved closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate, each one a reminder of his power.

Luca flinched as Damien sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Damien reached out, gloved fingers tracing the line of Luca’s jaw, tipping his head back.

“I don’t think you are,” Damien murmured, his gaze intense, piercing. “But you will be.”

Luca’s breath hitched, tears burning at the edges of his vision. “What do you want from me?”

“Everything.”

The word was a promise, dark and possessive.

Luca shuddered, a sob catching in his throat. “I can’t…I can’t…”

“You can.” Damien’s thumb brushed over Luca’s lower lip, a cruel mockery of comfort. “And you will.”

Luca’s eyes fluttered shut, shame and helplessness coiling tight in his chest. “Please…”

“You want water?”

Luca nodded, the motion weak, his pride shattered. “Yes.”

Damien leaned in, his breath warm against Luca’s ear. “Then earn it.”

Luca’s eyes snapped open, confusion and fear warring in his gaze. “W-what?”

“Beg.”

The command was soft, almost gentle, but it cut deeper than any knife.

Luca’s cheeks flushed with humiliation, his throat tightening. “No…”

“Then you’ll continue to suffer.”

Damien stood, his presence a dark cloud over Luca’s trembling form. “And the next time you see me, you’ll be more eager to obey.”

He turned to leave, and panic surged in Luca’s chest.

“No, wait!”

Damien paused, looking back with a raised brow.

Luca’s pride shattered, ground into dust beneath the weight of his desperation. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

Luca’s lips trembled. “Please…water. I…I’ll do anything.”

A glint of triumph sparked in Damien’s eyes. “Anything?”

Luca’s nod was small, defeated. “Anything.”

“Good.” Damien’s smile was dark, victorious. “That’s a start.”

He stepped closer, uncapping a bottle of water he’d pulled from his jacket. He tilted it, letting a few drops spill over Luca’s cracked lips, the relief like fire and ice, sharp and overwhelming.

But then Damien pulled it away, his eyes sharp. “Say it.”

Luca’s gaze was pleading, raw. “I belong to you.”

“Again.”

Luca swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. “I belong to you.”

Damien’s smile widened, and he tilted the bottle again, letting Luca drink, but only just enough to keep him thirsty, to keep him desperate.

This was only the beginning.

Damien would break him, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but obedience.

And Luca would learn—there was no escape.

Not from Damien Volkov.

--- After few hours ,

The room was suffocatingly silent. The kind of silence that coiled around Luca’s throat, pressing down like unseen hands, squeezing until even breathing felt like a crime. He didn’t know how long he had been here. Days blurred together, his mind fracturing under the weight of deprivation, of Damien’s presence—his control—his cruelty.

Chains rattled softly as Luca shifted, his wrists aching from the constant restraint. The bruises, the cuts, the dull throbbing pain in his muscles—it was all just background noise now. The only thing that mattered was the door. The door that Damien walked through whenever he wanted, whenever he needed to remind Luca who owned him.

It opened now.

Luca flinched as Damien entered, his polished black shoes clicking against the marble floor. The air changed. It always did when Damien was near—thick with power, with something suffocatingly possessive. He was dressed in one of his usual suits, crisp and expensive, his rings glinting in the dim light. But it was his eyes—icy, sharp, hungry—that sent a shiver through Luca’s already trembling frame.

“Sweetheart.” Damien’s voice was a slow drag of silk over steel, mocking, indulgent. “Have you learned your lesson?”

Luca swallowed. His throat was dry, his body weak. “Please…”

A chuckle. Amused, cruel. “Please, what?” Damien moved closer, gloved fingers reaching out to trail over Luca’s cheek. Luca flinched, but there was nowhere to go, no escape. Damien’s touch was deceptively gentle, a stark contrast to the cold amusement in his eyes. “Use your words, darling.”

Luca hated him. Hated the way he spoke to him like he was something fragile when he was the one who had made him this way. Hated the way his body reacted, the way his breath hitched when Damien leaned in, close enough that he could smell the faint trace of expensive cologne, of leather and smoke.

“I… I want to go home.” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

Damien’s smile vanished.

“Home?” He echoed, tilting his head as if Luca had spoken in a foreign language. “You are home.”

Luca’s stomach twisted. “No, please—”

A sharp grip on his jaw, fingers digging into his skin, forcing him to meet Damien’s gaze.

“You don’t get to beg for something that doesn’t exist anymore.” His voice was quiet, but laced with something dark, something dangerous. “You belong to me. Say it.”

Luca’s heart pounded against his ribs. “I—”

“Say it.”

His throat burned. His pride was already shattered, ground into dust beneath Damien’s relentless control. He had no choice.

“I… belong to you.”

A satisfied hum. Damien loosened his grip but didn’t pull away. “Good boy.”

Luca shivered at the praise, at the way Damien’s voice dipped into something almost affectionate. Almost.

But then—

The twist came like a storm.

The door burst open. A gunshot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space. Damien’s men reacted instantly, guns drawn, but it was too late.

A figure stood in the doorway, face shadowed, but the voice—

“Luca!”

His sister.

Luca’s breath hitched. Hope surged, wild and desperate. “Val—”

But Damien moved before he could finish, his grip on Luca turning brutal, possessive. He yanked him back, an arm wrapping around his waist, his body shielding him as his other hand pulled a gun from his holster, pressing it against Luca’s temple.

Everything froze.

Luca’s world tilted.

His sister’s gun was aimed directly at Damien. Her eyes burned with fury, her stance unwavering. “Let him go.”

Damien’s lips curled, amusement flickering through his gaze even as he held Luca against him, as if he had expected this, as if he had planned for it.

“Or what?” he taunted, pressing the barrel harder against Luca’s skin. “You’ll shoot through him?”

Valarie hesitated.

And in that hesitation, Damien laughed. Low, victorious.

“You’ve already lost.”

Luca’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling. He could feel Damien’s heartbeat against his back, steady, unbothered. He wasn’t afraid. He was never afraid.

And that’s when Luca realized—

He was never getting out of this alive.