Angela drifted between consciousness and darkness. Every part of her body ached, her mind clouded in pain and exhaustion. She could still feel the ban of his initials carved into her skin, though it was bandaged now, the sting of his bite on her neck–silent reminders that she was no longer her man,
Her eyelids fluttered open to the dim glow of the bedroom, the heavy scent of leather and cologne clinging to the air. She was still in Mikhail’s room. bound to his world, his rules, his madness.
Feeling pain on her wrists she tried to move only for her heart to sank. She was still bound by the ropes from last night. Why was he being so cruel to her What has she done to deserve this. All she ever wanted was freedom and peace but it wasn’t written in her fate.
Bitter tears gathered in her eyes recalling what he done last night. Angela was terrified of this man. How could he be so ruthless to the point he engraved his name on her skin. He reduced her into a mere thing. An animal which he put a brand on and made it as his. She wasn’t a human being in his eyes. She was just his possession and nothing more.
A soft knock at the door made her jolt, her body too weak to react. The door creaked open, and she felt Tatiana’s presnece, she was hesitating in the doorway, a tray in her hands.
“You need to eat,” Tatiana whispered, carefully setting the tray on the bedside table. Her gaze flickered to Angela’s torn clothing, the bruises painting her skin. Her expression tightened, but she said nothing.
Angela swallowed hard, her throat raw. “Tatiana,” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please… help me.”
Tatiana’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She took a step closer but flinched as heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Mikhail.
The door swung open, revealing his towering figure. He was freshly showered, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his forearms flexing as he tucked his hands into his pockets. His dark eyes zeroed in on Angela, assessing her fragile state.
“You may leave,” he said coldly to Tatiana.
She hesitated, throwing one last glance at Angela before nodding and slipping out of the room.
Mikhail strode forward, the air thick with his authority. The giant of a man sat beside the girl on the bed making her shrink back in fear, feeling the bed dip with his weight. He reached for the tray, lifting a spoonful of soup and bringing it to Angela’s lips. “Eat,” he ordered.
She turned her face away. “I’m not hungry.” Her voice was small but she couldn’t eat. Her fear won’t let her.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. Without a word, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I won’t repeat myself.”
Angela’s dead eyes were unfocused, but defiance was flickering in her eyes despite the fear. “You think you can break me,” she whispered. “But I will never be yours.”
Mikhail’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. “You already are.”
His words sent a shiver down her spine. He placed the spoon to her lips again, and this time. Every ounce of her being wanted to jerk her face away. To say no to him but she was so tired, so exhausted with what was happening in her life. She reluctantly opened her mouth. She knew better than to provoke him further.
As she swallowed, his fingers lingered against her jaw, a silent promise of dominance. “Good girl,” he murmured, satisfaction lacing his tone.
Angela felt bile rise in her throat, but she forced it down, unwilling to show weakness.
A knock interrupted the moment. One of Mikhail’s men entered, his expression grim. “Boss, we found the caller.”
Angela stiffened.
Mikhail’s grip on the spoon tightened before he set it down with eerie calm. “Who?”
Chapter 19
He had thought the caller to be his enemy but he was so wrong.
The man hesitated. “Damien.”
Silence crashed over the room.
Angela’s pulse spiked. Damien. Mikhail’s half–brother. The one who had shown interest in her, who had given her chills. He was the one trying to help her escape?
Mikhail let out a slow, dangerous exhale. A glacial storm brewed in his eyes, the kind of fury that promised bloodshed. “Where is he now?”
“He fled. But we’ll find him.”
Mikhail’s gaze slid to Angela, and she felt the ground shift beneath her. His fingers trailed over her wrist, deceptively gentle before his grip tightened like steel near the ropes.
“So it was my own flesh and blood who tried to take what’s mine,” he mused darkly. His thumb traced her bruised wrist. “Tell me, Angela, did you know?
She shook her head frantically. “I swear, I didn’t!”
His smirk was laced with menace. “Lies.”
Mikhail turned to his man. “Double the security. No one comes near her without my permission.”
The man nodded and exited swiftly, leaving them alone once again.
Angela’s chest tightened as Mikhail studied her, his expression unreadable. He undid her wrists and dread coiled in her chest. Then, without warning, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap.
She gasped, struggling, but his grip was ironclad. His fingers dug into her hips, his breath warm against her ear. “You still don’t understand, do you?” he whispered. “You belong to me. Your body, your soul, your very existence.”
Angela whimpered, her body betraying her as an unfamiliar heat coiled in her stomach.
Mikhail chuckled, dark and satisfied. “And no one–especially not Damien–will take you from me.”
He pressed his lips against her pulse, lingering, claiming.
Angela squeezed her eyes shut, trapped in a web of dominance, fear, and something far more dangerous.
Desire.
But even as her body betrayed her, she knew one thing for certain.
Damien was out there.
He might help her but the problem was…
Ange
AD
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