chapter 16
1611 Words
Chapter 16 – Chains of Silence
The first thing Isabella felt when her eyes fluttered open was warmth. Not the tender warmth of sunlight through curtains, not the comfort of a hearth fire shared with family. No—this warmth was suffocating, endless, alive. It wrapped around her like a chain, pressing into her chest until even breathing felt like surrender.
She blinked against the dim glow. The ceiling above her was carved stone, blackened by flame yet threaded with veins of glowing ember, as if the fire itself had burrowed into the rock. Her body lay upon silken sheets softer than anything she’d known, pillows stuffed with down, crimson drapes flowing like liquid fire around the canopy.
It was not a dungeon. It was a chamber fit for a queen.
And Isabella knew it for what it was: a gilded cage.
Her trembling fingers brushed the spot just above her heart. The skin there still burned faintly, the mark of flame etched into her flesh. The bond. Her breath hitched as memories came rushing back—the masquerade in ruins, Ethan screaming as shadows ripped through him, her own desperate whisper: I am yours.
She had bound herself. To Damian. To the monster whose golden eyes had haunted her every nightmare and secret dream alike.
Her stomach twisted violently. She wanted to cry. She wanted to claw the mark from her chest. But the door creaked open, and all her thoughts dissolved into dread.
Damian entered like the room itself bent to welcome him. He wore no crown, no armor. A simple tunic of deep red, a coat of black falling open. Yet his presence devoured the chamber, as if nothing else dared exist in his shadow. His golden eyes glowed faintly in the dim firelight, catching her as though he had been watching even in her dreams.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice smooth, low, impossible to ignore.
Isabella clutched the sheets, her voice raw. “Where is Ethan?”
One brow arched, the faintest smile curving his lips. “Always so quick to ask about another man.”
Her throat burned. “Answer me.”
Damian moved closer with deliberate steps. Even his silence was oppressive, like the air bent to his will. When he stood over her bed, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, sinking into her bones.
“Alive,” he murmured at last. “Because I allow it. Do not forget, Isabella—every breath he takes is mine to grant… or to take away.”
Her chest clenched. The words struck like chains tightening. She wanted to scream, but the truth of them bound her tongue.
“Get up,” Damian said suddenly.
Her body stiffened. “Why?”
His golden eyes sharpened, dangerous. “Because I told you to.”
The hearth flared, flames leaping as if in warning. Isabella’s heart thundered. Ethan. If she disobeyed, if she angered him—Ethan would pay. Her legs shook as she rose, feet sinking into the warm marble floor.
Damian’s gaze softened—not kindly, but with the pride of a master watching his command fulfilled.
“Walk to me.”
Every instinct screamed no. Yet she saw the flames flicker higher, felt the bond sear faintly across her chest. She stepped forward, each stride heavy with humiliation until she stood before him, so close she could see the molten rings inside his irises.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
Her head turned by instinct toward the floor, shame choking her. His command dragged her gaze upward, locking onto his. For a long, terrible moment, her will fought against the chain in her veins. And then, trembling, she lifted her chin.
Damian’s smile was slow, devastating. His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her face further, forcing her to hold. “Obedience looks beautiful on you.”
Her breath caught. She wrenched her face away, fury and despair colliding—but his hand tightened just enough to hold her still. Not painful. Not violent. Just absolute.
When he finally let her go, she staggered back, her chest heaving. The shame of it made her tremble more than his touch.
“Sit,” Damian ordered, gesturing to the table where platters of food gleamed under the firelight.
She obeyed, sinking into the cushioned chair.
He poured wine into her goblet, the liquid shimmering faintly as though laced with flame. “Drink.”
Her hand shook as she lifted the cup, but the scent curdled in her throat. She lowered it, pushing it away.
Damian leaned back, watching every flicker of her body with unnerving patience. “You think denying me in these small ways makes you strong,” he said softly. “But strength is not denial. Strength is admitting what you want—and daring to take it.”
Her voice broke. “And what do you think I want?”
His smile deepened. “Me.”
Heat flushed her face. Her lips parted to deny it, to hurl the word never. But his eyes held hers, molten and merciless, and the protest withered in her throat.
The chamber door creaked. A servant slipped in, bowing low, setting down a tray of fresh fruit. As he moved past Isabella, his hand brushed her sleeve. Something small pressed into her palm.
Her breath faltered. She curled her fingers tight, hiding the scrap. When Damian dismissed the servant, Isabella dared a glance downward. She uncurled her fist under the table.
A torn piece of parchment. Ink scrawled in haste:
Fight him. Remember yourself. I will not let you go.
Her chest seized. Adrian.
The letters blurred as tears filled her eyes. Even here, even in this citadel of fire, he hadn’t abandoned her.
“Something troubles you,” Damian said.
She jerked her gaze up, shoving the note into her lap. “Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed. The firelight dimmed for a moment, then surged violently, licking the walls. Isabella’s pulse spiked, certain the citadel itself would burn away her secret.
But Damian only rose, circling the table. His hand brushed her shoulder, slid down her arm, lingering. “You can lie to yourself,” he murmured. “But not to me.”
She shoved his hand away, standing. “You don’t know me.”
He laughed softly, golden eyes gleaming. “I know you better than you dare admit. Every time you defy me, your heart beats faster. Not from fear alone.”
Her breath stuttered. She hated him. She hated herself more for the truth tangled in his words.
“Come,” Damian said, leading her to the balcony. He swept the doors open. Night air rushed in, thick with smoke and ash. Below stretched his kingdom—a vast, glowing ocean of ember. Villages bent low in firelit submission. The land itself bowed to him.
“Look,” he said, standing behind her, his hand firm at her waist. “This is mine. And it could be yours. Not as prisoner, Isabella. As queen.”
The word pierced her chest. Queen. Ruler. Power beyond imagination. It was a poison and a promise both.
His breath brushed her ear. “Admit it. Part of you longed to choose me long before the bargain.”
She shook her head, trembling. “You’re wrong.”
He turned her toward him, golden eyes molten. “Then prove it. Refuse me.”
Her lips parted, trembling on the edge of denial. But before she could speak—
Pain exploded across her chest.
She gasped, knees buckling as fire ripped through her veins. The bond seared mercilessly, dragging a scream from her throat.
And then—another scream echoed from deep within the citadel. Ethan’s voice. Agonized.
“No!” Isabella fell to the ground, clutching her chest. The mark glowed like molten iron. “Stop, please—”
Damian crouched beside her, utterly calm. “Every time you resist me,” he murmured, “he suffers.”
Her tears blurred the firelight. She tried to rise, tried to fight, but her body crumpled again. Damian’s shadow fell over her.
“Kneel.”
She shook her head violently, sobbing. “I won’t—”
The pain surged. Ethan’s scream tore through the walls. Isabella collapsed forward, her knees hitting the stone with a hollow crack.
Damian’s hand slid into her hair, guiding her head down until she bowed before him. His voice was soft, lethal. “Obedience is not humiliation. It is survival.”
Her sobs wracked her body. She hated him. She hated herself. And still—she obeyed.
The chamber door burst open.
“Isabella!”
Adrian’s voice.
She looked up, tears streaming, heart breaking. He stood in the doorway, sword blazing, blood staining his shirt. His eyes locked onto her—on the sight of her kneeling before Damian, the mark glowing on her chest, Damian’s hand tangled in her hair.
Adrian froze, devastation shattering across his face.
“No…” His sword faltered. His voice broke. “What has he done to you?”
Isabella reached toward him, her lips parting, but her body refused to rise. The bond held her down like invisible chains.
Damian’s smile curved, cruel and triumphant. He pressed his palm to Isabella’s shoulder, claiming her even in Adrian’s eyes.
“Now,” he whispered, his voice silk and fire both. “The game truly begins.”
Flames roared around the chamber, sealing the room in fire. Isabella was trapped between them—Adrian’s heartbreak, Ethan’s suffering, Damian’s chains. No matter which way she turned, part of her soul would be destroyed.
And Damian knew it.
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- Writer
