chapter 7
1220 Words
The older man guided Lana out of her room and down the wide staircase. His steps were steady, unhurried, but Lana’s felt like lead. Her head hung low, strands of hair hiding her pale face. Her heart thudded in her chest, so loud it was all she could hear. She didn’t care about how magnificent the house looked anymore or how big it was. She didn't care about the luxurious interior. The place felt like a prison to her now. It was nothing but a prison that had a lunatic.
She knew where this walk was taking her. She knew she was about to see him again.
The man who had almost killed her. The monster.
Her palms clenched into fists at her sides. Was this it? Was he finally going to finish what he’d started? Every step forward felt like a march to her own execution. Part of her wanted to bolt just turn and run as far as her legs could carry her. But the thought died almost as quickly as it came. There was nowhere to go. She was trapped, and she knew it. They had blind folded her so she wouldn't know the way away from here.
So she just followed John.
The older man finally stopped at a set of tall, polished doors. He pushed them open, and Lana lifted her head, slowly, cautiously.
Her jaw nearly dropped.
She was standing at the entrance of the grandest dining room she had ever seen. A glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals scattering golden light across walls lined with portraits and rich velvet curtains. The table stretched almost endlessly, covered in a feast that looked like something out of a dream. Platters of roasted meats, bowls of steaming vegetables, bread still warm from the oven.
But none of that mattered.
What stole the air from her lungs was the man seated at the head of the table.
Him.
Her eyes locked on Damon.
The older man, John glanced back at her with a kind smile, as if to reassure her, then led her further into the room. Lana’s steps dragged, each one heavier than the last, until he drew out a chair for her, just two seats away from Damon.
“Have a seat,” John said gently.
Lana’s hand trembled as she lowered herself into the chair. Maybe, if she stayed quiet, if she didn’t make a sound, Damon wouldn’t notice her.
But she was wrong.
The moment she sat down, Damon’s gaze lifted and found her. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
John served her quickly, placing a plate of food before her. The aroma hit her instantly. Steak, mashed potatoes, and herbs that made her stomach twist with hunger. But Lana couldn’t move. She just sat there, frozen.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Damon’s deep voice rolled across the long table. “Eat.”
She flinched, fingers curling tighter in her lap. Still, she didn’t move.
A harsh scoff broke the silence. Damon dropped his fork onto the table, the clatter making her jump.
“Do you think I poisoned it?” His voice was low, dangerous. “I wouldn’t let you die so easily. Death would be too quick, don’t you think?”
Lana’s heart lurched. Why? Why was he so intent on frightening her? If he hated her father so much, why not face him directly? Oh, her father was long dead. It seemed he knew that already, or he just didn't care.
Then why drag her into this? Why torment her like this?
She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to ask if he had no conscience at all.
But all she could do was sit there, trembling, her stomach twisting painfully with hunger.
“Eat,” Damon ordered again, firmer this time.
Fear made her obey. Her hand shook as she picked up the cutlery. She glanced at him once, his eyes were locked on her, waiting, watching, then quickly looked back at the plate.
The silence was suffocating. The only sound she heard was the furious pounding of her own heart. She cut into the steak slowly, the knife slicing through the tender meat. The aroma was overwhelming, making her mouth water even as fear gripped her.
Her fork trembled as she lifted the first bite. She didn’t want to look at him again, but his gaze was piercing and persistent. Lana hoped she wouldn't choke; maybe he would like it if she did.
John, standing nearby, shifted uneasily. He could see the terror written all over her face, the way Damon’s stare pinned her in place. He wanted to step in, to tell Damon to leave the poor girl alone. But he said nothing. He could only watch.
Finally, Lana placed the piece of steak in her mouth.
She froze.
The moment she began to chew, the rich flavour flooded her tongue. The meat was soft, perfectly seasoned, almost melting in her mouth. Her eyes widened. It was… delicious.
Too delicious.
She cut another piece quickly, then another. Hunger took over, drowning out the fear. She didn’t care anymore whether it was poisoned or not. If it were, at least she wouldn’t die hungry. She didn’t even think much of the piercing gaze on her anymore. She didn’t care at that moment.
Damon’s expression softened as he watched her.
He couldn’t explain the ache that gripped his chest as she ate, desperate and trembling, like someone who hadn’t tasted real food in days. Guilt struck him harder than before. He was a monster, he knew it. But seeing her like this, fragile and hungry, tore at something inside him.
So he stayed silent.
Lana ate quickly, ignoring his gaze now. Bite after bite, she let the flavours drown her fear, at least for a little while. She finished the steak and eyed the mashed potatoes, almost gone from her plate. Her stomach still wanted more, though she dared not ask.
And then, as if reading her mind, John stepped forward. Without a word, he refilled her plate with steak and mashed potatoes.
“Thank you,” Lana whispered, not daring to lift her eyes.
She ate again, faster, as if the meal might vanish any second. Fear still clung to her, but the food was too good, too tempting. She told herself to finish quickly before the poison, if there was any, took effect. Before her body betrayed her.
When at last she was done, she set her cutlery down and reached for the glass of water at her side. She lifted it to her lips, the cool liquid easing her dry throat.
And that was the moment Damon finally spoke.
“You have to live here from now on.”
Lana choked, the water going down the wrong way. She coughed so hard it nearly came out of her nose. John rushed to her side, taking the glass from her hand and pressing a cloth into her palm. His eyes travelled to Damon, and he glared at him. Was he trying to kill her?
Lana’s eyes widened in shock. “What!” she gasped, her voice breaking.
Her stomach dropped. Her pulse spiked.
He was insane. Completely insane.
Surely, she had misheard him.
But the look in Damon’s eyes told her otherwise.
- Writer
