Chapter 2

Damon kept his word.

He really did imprison me in that house.

Two bodyguards in black stood outside the door, taking shifts around the clock. Every one of them was one of Damon’s trusted men.

My phone was taken. Every line to the outside world was cut off.

Day after day slipped by, and I felt like a puppet with no soul.

During the day, I sat by the window, staring blankly at the small patch of sky outside.

At night, Damon would return and take from me with a hunger that never seemed to end.

It was as if he were trying to make up for every year of missing desire, all on my body at once.

I went from struggling, to going numb, to finally resigning myself to it.

To him, I was nothing more than the medicine for his “condition.”

That night, after he was finished, he leaned against the headboard and lit a cigarette.

Smoke curled through the room, blurring the hard lines of his face.

“What are you thinking about?”

I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes on the ceiling.

“My husband.”

The hand holding the cigarette stilled.

A second later, he crushed it out, flipped me onto my back, and pinned me beneath him with a hand around my throat.

“Say that again.”

As the pressure cut off my air, I was forced to look into eyes blazing with rage.

I thought he might actually kill me.

But he wouldn’t even grant me the right to die.

He merely tightened his hold until my face burned red and my breathing turned ragged, only then releasing me suddenly.

I broke into a violent fit of coughing, tears streaming down my face from the strain.

“Cough… cough…”

“Iris, remember your place.”

His voice was cold.

“You’re mine now. Don’t you dare think about another man.”

“Not even your husband.”

I laughed, hard enough that tears welled in my eyes.

“Damon, have you forgotten that you already have a fiancée? Chloe?”

“What exactly are we?”

“What am I to you?”

His expression turned instantly dark.

“Don’t ask questions you’re not supposed to ask.”

He got out of bed, dressed, and left without another word.

The door slammed hard behind him.

I lay there staring into the dark, my throat still throbbing, and all I felt was bitter, bitter irony.

All I had wanted was a simple love.

How had I ended up here?

A hidden mistress. A prisoner. a woman possessed by force, stripped of even the most basic freedom.

I couldn’t keep living like this.

I had to escape.

Over the next few days, I acted perfectly obedient.

Whatever Damon wanted, I gave him.

He seemed satisfied with my “good behavior,” and his vigilance around me gradually eased.

Before long, he began allowing me to wander through the garden.

I took advantage of the chance to quietly observe the terrain around the house.

It was built halfway up the mountainside, surrounded by sheer cliffs, with only a single road leading out.

And that road was patrolled every hour of the day.

There was no way I could force my way out.

So I turned my attention to the delivery truck that brought food up every day.

That was my only chance.

One afternoon, during a guard shift change, I slipped into the kitchen.

Then I hid in the pantry and listened.

Soon enough, the truck arrived.

The cook finished checking the delivery, and the driver got ready to leave.

Now.

I held my breath, bolted out of the pantry, and climbed into the back of the truck as fast as I could.

A second later, the engine started.

I crouched behind stacks of produce, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst.

The truck moved steadily forward. Downhill.

I’d done it.

I was out.

Sheer joy slammed into me so hard I nearly laughed.

Then the truck screeched to a stop.

The sudden stop sent me lurching forward, and I hit the crate in front of me with a muffled grunt.

“Ugh…”

The truck doors were pulled open.

Against the harsh glare of the sun, Damon’s face looked so dark it could have summoned a storm.

Behind him stood a line of black-clad bodyguards, all core members of his family.

And on the ground beside them, the delivery driver was kneeling, shaking so badly he could barely stay upright.

“Trying to run?”

Damon stepped into the truck, one slow stride at a time.

“Iris… I really underestimated you.”

I scrambled backward until my spine hit the metal wall.

“I… I just wanted to go home.”

“Home?”

He gave a cold laugh.

“This is your home.”

He grabbed me by the ankle and yanked me brutally off the truck.

I hit the ground hard. My knees slammed into gravel, pain ripping through me.

“Ah—!”

Without a shred of concern for me, he dragged me back to the villa as if I were no better than a carcass.

Then he threw me into the room I’d spent months trapped in.

“I’ve been too kind to you.”

He loosened his tie and walked toward me.

Step by step.

“Seems I’ve let you forget who you belong to.”

I stared at the tie in his hand in horror, backing away again and again.

“Please… Damon… I was wrong…”

“Too late.”

That day, I learned what hell felt like.

He tied my wrists with his tie. He punished me. Humiliated me. Broke me apart in every way he could think of.

I sobbed out my pleas until my throat was raw and my voice gave out.

He ignored every word, growing crueler each time.

By the end, I had passed out cold.

When I opened my eyes again, it was noon the following day.

My whole body felt like it had been run over. There wasn’t a single place that didn’t ache.

Deep red marks ringed my wrists where the tie had cut into my skin.

A female doctor I’d never seen before was checking me over.

“Don sent me to examine you.”

As she treated my injuries, there was a trace of pity in her tone.

“Don’t provoke Don again.”

“He was truly furious this time.”

I closed my eyes and said nothing.

The escape had failed.

All it had earned me was a body full of pain.

What else could I do?

Was this really how my life was going to end? Locked away here until I rotted?

No.

I couldn’t accept that.

As long as I was still breathing, there was still hope.