Chapter 2
1069 Words
The Blackwood mansion became her cage.
Massive, cold, and suffocating. A fortress built of glass and steel, but beneath its grandeur lurked shadows that never left.
And Lucas was the darkest of them all.
She was given silk dresses and diamond necklaces, but none of them mattered. None of them could hide the truth.
She was not a wife.
She was not a lover.
She was a prisoner.
Lucas didn't speak much, but his silence was heavier than chains. He didn't need words to remind her who owned her.
The first night in his home, she stood in the massive bedroom he had assigned to her. A room fit for a queen, yet she felt like a slave.
The walls seemed to close in, thick with the weight of her new reality. She had tried to process it, accept it, survive it. But when the door creaked open, her body tensed instinctively.
Lucas stepped in.
His black dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. He looked every bit the predator.
She forced herself to stand tall. "What do you want?"
His lips curled, but there was no amusement in his expression. Only something dangerous and slight hint of lust, lingering all over his face. "You already know the answer to that," he said smoothly.
A shiver ran down her spine. Her heart slammed harder than ever against her rib cage. Lucas wasn't a man who asked. He took.
That was something she quickly discovered. Taking hold of both of her thin hands, he threw her onto the bed like a w***e hoping to be overpowered. She gulped in terror, her eyes wide as if she had just witnessed death. He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his trousers, and then- The next thing she remembered was him hovering over her, hammering every scrap of meat into her with no regret.
The pain was severe, and she, the helpless one, was left to watch and weep in her own misery. There was no affectionate s*x between them that night. His eyes lacked kindness, and his hands lacked warmth. He only ever touched her to remind her of his power.
And she hated him for it.
* * *
It's been three days of torture. Three days of suffocating in a prison without walls, where the air was thick with the scent of leather and cigar smoke, where every creak of the floorboards made her flinch. Sleep came in fragments, stolen between the stretches of time when she wasn't being watched, when the weight of his presence wasn't looming over her like a predator waiting for its prey to break.
She tried to run once.
She failed.
The memory burned in her mind like an open wound, festering with every passing second. She had been careful-so, so careful. She spent days memorizing the guards' rotations, studying the way their attention flickered when they got too comfortable. She kept her head down, played the role of the obedient captive, never letting them suspect she was watching.
Then, at last, the opportunity came. Lucas was out for a business meeting, his usual air of cold dominance absent from the house. The guards were distracted, their laughter carrying through the halls, thick with arrogance. She forced herself to breathe through the fear, to ignore the hammering of her pulse. This was it. The perfect time for an escape.
She forced herself to ignore the hammering of her pulse and breathe through the fear, but this was it-the ideal moment for an escape. She ran barefoot through the halls, her heart slamming against her ribs, every step sending a sharp sting through her soles, but she didn't stop. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she slipped through a back door and into the open air. Lucas was out for a business meeting, and his usual air of cold dominance was absent from the house because the guards were distracted.
For the first time since she was sold to him, she saw freedom.
The gates loomed ahead, tall and imposing, but they weren't locked-not yet. Just a few more feet. She could already taste the night beyond, feel the promise of an open road under her feet.
Then-pain.
A powerful arm knocked her at the back of neck, the world tilted, her body slamming into the cold, hard earth. The impact exploded through her bones, knocking the wind from her lungs. Stars burst behind her eyelids as her head struck the dirt.
Dizzy, disoriented, she barely had time to register the sharp sting in her elbows and knees, scraped raw by the unforgiving ground. Her fingers dug into the gravel, instinctively trying to push herself up, to keep moving. But the weight of a presence, dark and suffocating, settled over her.
A shadow. Tall. Overpowering.
Her breath hitched, terror coiling in her chest like a snake as she forced her gaze upward.
Lucas.
His towering form blocked the moonlight above her.
He had caught her. And he was furious.
He wrapped his arm round her waist, yanking her away, his grip was iron as he hauled her up, dragging her back into the house. She struggled, nails scratching against his wrist, but it was pointless. He was too strong.
Too powerful.
He shoved her inside his office, locking the door behind the m. The sound echoed like a death sentence.
For a long moment, he just stared at me.
Then, in a flash, he grabbed my wrist and yanked her forward. She gasped as her back hit the cold wall and without any warning, she gasped to the slap across her face. The pain stung bitterly, leaving red marks on her cheek.
Lucas's body ensnared hers as he closed in. She had never seen his eyes so dark-absolute fire, pure rage. "You tried to run from me," he whispered.
Deadly quiet. She took a deep breath, she couldn't take her eyes off of him, her heart pounding. "I refuse to be your prisoner," she spat without hesitating.
She felt pain as his fingers grew tighter around her wrist. Whispering, "You already are," he said.
His voice had the softness, sharpness, and cutting ability of a razor. His breath was hot against her ear as he leaned closer.
He said, "Try to leave me again, Isabella," his voice brimming with a deadly threat that chilled her veins.
"And I will break you."
- Writer
