Claimed by the Devil’s Hands

Chapter 3. Welcome Home

When they reached the parking lot, Damien set Sophie down. The moment her feet touched the ground, she bolted, running as fast as she could to get away from him. But she didn’t get far. Damien caught her easily.

Sophie knew it was pointless, but she couldn’t just stay still. She’d hate herself if she didn’t at least try to fight back.

She struggled, even though it was useless. Frustration burned in her chest, and when he pulled her into his arms, she sank her teeth into his hand as hard as she could. She fought until her strength ran out, panting heavily, glaring up at Damien with pure hatred while still trapped in his grip.

At least she could take some pride in the fact that she’d made him struggle a little. That was better than doing nothing.

Damien looked at her with a smile that was too sweet to be anything but cruel. “If you promise to behave, I might offer you a nice spot next to me in the car.”

“Go to hell!” Sophie spat furiously. She tried to spit in his face, but his hand was already there, covering her mouth. Damn it, he read my move, she thought.

Damien chuckled quietly. “Alright, you asked for it.” He nodded at his bodyguard. “Put her in the trunk.”

The guard grabbed her arm in a hard grip and shoved her toward the car. Sophie was thrown inside the trunk without a hint of care before the door slammed shut and locked from the outside. She curled up in the tight space, trembling with anger and fear. The ride felt endless and suffocating.

She kicked, screamed, and pounded on everything she could reach, but nothing worked. Eventually her strength gave out. Her breathing grew short, the air getting thinner by the minute. She forced herself to stay calm, trying to slow her heartbeat and breathe evenly in the stifling darkness.

She didn’t even know why she kept fighting. She was Damien’s wife now, at least on paper. Maybe it was because if she had to choose, she’d rather he killed her than treated her like some kind of toy. The thought of that disgusted her. She wouldn’t let it happen.

Time stretched endlessly until the car finally slowed down. Sophie heard the heavy creak of a gate opening. The car rolled forward for a bit before stopping.

A door slammed. Then the trunk cracked open slightly, letting in a sliver of light.

“Sophie,” Damien’s voice came, calm but cold.

Her face went pale. She held her breath, listening.

“I’m going to open the trunk, but you have to promise to stay calm and not fight,” he said softly, his tone almost gentle, though she could hear the smugness behind it.

Bastard, she thought. He was mocking her. She didn’t answer.

“You’re at my house now. And just so you know, my guards aren’t exactly friendly. For your own good, stay quiet. They won’t hesitate to hurt you if you act stupid.”

Sophie froze. She peeked through the narrow gap. The house was huge, more like a palace than a home. How the hell am I supposed to escape a place like this?

She shut her eyes, swallowing her frustration. From what she’d heard, Damien DeLuca’s estate covered acres of land in an exclusive area on the outskirts of the city. The property was surrounded by high walls and guarded gates. No one got in without Damien knowing. And no one left without his permission.

“So, Sophie?” Damien called again. “Are you going to be good so I can let you out like a civilized person? Or do you want to be stupid so I can throw you in a sack and lock you in the basement?”

His voice was calm, but every word carried an edge.

Before she could think, the trunk opened wide, flooding her eyes with light. She wasn’t ready to fight anymore. It was pointless anyway. Behind Damien stood several large, stone-faced bodyguards. One look told her they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her if she tried anything.

Damien stepped back a little, then bent down and offered his hand. “Come on, princess. Let me help you out,” he said, mocking her.

“Stay away from me.” Sophie glared at his hand and slapped it aside. She forced herself out of the trunk, her legs stiff from being folded for too long.

Damien’s eyes swept over her slowly, from head to toe, with a look that made her skin crawl. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Welcome to my home,” he said, grabbing her arm tightly and pulling her along.

The front of the house was grand. Its architecture was classic but somehow still felt modern. The ivory marble floors shimmered under the glow of an enormous chandelier. Massive red-and-gold columns rose toward the high ceiling, making the place look both luxurious and intimidating.

Damien led Sophie up a wide white staircase, half-dragging her since her steps were weak. They stopped in front of a large ivory-colored door.

“You’ll be staying here from now on,” Damien said flatly.

Sophie stared at him, wide-eyed. He was giving her a separate room?

His lips were smiling, but his eyes weren’t. They were sharp and cold. “This is your home now. With me.” His hand gripped her shoulder tighter, making her wince. “I’ve decided to keep you. And the only way you’ll ever leave me is when I decide to let you go… or when you’re dead.”

That sentence killed whatever hope she had left. Damien shoved her into the room, slamming the door shut and locking it from the outside.

Sophie pounded on the door, kicked it, screamed until her voice cracked, but no one came. Only the echo of her own voice answered her.

* * *

In his enormous bedroom, Damien sat on the couch, wearing a black silk robe. In front of him, a small dining table was covered with a full meal. He sipped his red wine and looked calmly at William, his personal bodyguard and most trusted man.

William stood straight, his expression unreadable. “I think she’s ready, sir. Not ready to surrender to you, but ready to kill you. The look in her eyes… it’s pure hatred.”

Damien smirked, staring into his wine glass. “Yeah. That look burns. It’s full of hate.” He took another sip, closing his eyes as if savoring the bitterness. “But you know something, William? I know how to make her want me.”

William lowered his gaze slightly. “Yes, sir. I know.”

“Do you think I’d ever force her?” Damien asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

William didn’t answer right away. “No, sir. You’ve never liked that kind of thing.”

Damien nodded slowly. “I don’t like forcing women. You know that. I’ve always been surrounded by those who come to me willingly. There’s no pleasure in forcing someone.” His voice softened, a cold smile forming on his lips as he glanced toward the tall window behind William. “I want her to come to me on her own.”

He took another slow sip of wine, as if already tasting the victory he knew would eventually be his.