His Forbidden Obsession

Chapter four:the spy and the lamb

It started with a laugh.

High-pitched. Female. Dripping with flirtation.

Celeste was curled up on the velvet window seat in her room, a book in her hand

She didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

The voices grew louder as they crossed the hallway. Then a door slammed shut. And then…

The sounds started.

Soft at first. Then harder. Louder. Rhythmic.

Celeste’s stomach twisted.

There was no mistaking it.

The woman—whoever she was—was moaning. Loud. Unashamed. Desperate. Each cry punched Celeste in the chest like a cruel reminder.

She shut the book. It didn’t help.

The sounds seeped through the silence like poison. Every thud of the headboard, every breathless gasp, made her insides coil.

She shouldn't care.

Damian wasn't hers.

He’d kissed her, yes. Touched her face like she was breakable. Whispered threats and promises against her skin. But he hadn’t claimed her. He hadn’t chosen her.

And now, it was clear he didn’t intend to.

Celeste stood and walked to the mirror, arms crossed over her chest. Her robe slipped slightly, revealing the thin strap of her camisole. She looked at herself—really looked.

Her figure was soft. Small. Her breasts barely filled the top. Her hips weren’t the kind that made men go silent in a room. Her skin bore the stress of the last few days, and her eyes—God, her eyes looked like someone who didn’t belong in a place like this.

And yet that woman?

She laughed like she owned the place. She screamed for him.

Celeste bit her lip hard enough to sting.

She turned away, climbing back into bed and pulling the covers over her head, trying to drown it out. The laughter. The cries. The way Damian grunted something in a foreign tongue as the woman responded with another moan.

She hated this.

She hated him.

She hated that she cared.

Then—silence.

Abrupt.

Dead quiet.

No giggle. No movement. Just… nothing.

Celeste sat up slowly. Her heart pounded strangely. Something felt off.

Minutes passed.

Then came the scream.

Not playful. Not seductive.

A bloodcurdling, panicked, real scream.

Celeste leapt from her bed, rushing to the door. Her hand hovered over the handle, frozen. The scream was cut off mid-sound—like someone had ended it.

Then: silence again.

Too thick to be normal.

Too final.

A few moments later, footsteps echoed down the hallway—slower this time. Calm. Almost elegant.

Her door creaked open.

Damian stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, blood splattered across the cuffs of his shirt. His jaw was tight. His dark eyes, unreadable. Dangerous.

He looked like a man who’d just killed.

Celeste backed up a step, heart climbing into her throat.

“Is she…?” she whispered.

He didn’t blink. “Dead.”

She clutched the bedpost, her knees unsteady.

“Why?” she asked, voice cracking.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “She was sent by my uncle. A spy.”

Celeste’s blood ran cold. “A spy?”

“He likes to play games,” Damian said, walking past her. “Sending women to seduce me, hoping they can get close. Weak men fall for it.”

“And you?” she asked, terrified.

He turned, locking eyes with her. “I don’t fall.”

Her breath hitched.

“She tried to poison my drink. When that didn’t work, she thought s*x would distract me enough to check my phone.” He scoffed. “Amateur.”

Celeste stared at him. “You used her. Then you killed her.”

His face darkened, but his voice remained level. “She entered a wolf’s domain thinking she was the predator.”

He stepped close. Too close.

“And don’t forget, dolcezza,” he murmured, brushing a fleck of blood off his own wrist, “you’re still here on borrowed time. My mercy has a limit.”

Her spine straightened despite the fear coiling in her stomach.

“I’m not her,” she whispered.

“No,” he said softly, almost admiringly. “You’re still alive.”

He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway.

“Sleep well, Celeste.”

Then he was gone.

She stood shaking, the reality of her world sinking in deeper than ever.

She wasn’t just a captive in a mansion.

She was a lamb in a field full of wolves.

And tonight, she’d just seen what happened when the wolves stopped playing nice