Chapter 6: The Weight of Isolation

“Emma, smile. Everyone’s watching.”

Damon’s voice was a command she couldn’t ignore. His hand rested on her lower back, firm yet controlling, as they stepped into the grand ballroom. Glittering chandeliers illuminated the sea of faces, all turned toward them, expectant.

Emma forced a smile, hollow and painted on like the makeup she had spent an hour perfecting. The emerald green silk gown she wore was stunning, but it felt more like chains than fabric.

“Perfect,” Damon whispered, leaning closer. His breath brushed her neck, and she stiffened. “Remember, you’re mine tonight. Like every night.”

Her stomach churned, but she nodded mechanically. Resistance only led to punishment, and tonight, she couldn’t bear another one of Damon’s “lessons.”

The party was lavish—Damon spared no expense. Waiters drifted between clusters of guests, their trays balanced with crystal flutes of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres. Laughter and chatter filled the air, but to Emma, it all blurred into meaningless noise.

She walked beside Damon, his grip never loosening, as he introduced her to guests she’d never remember. They spoke to her, but their words were drowned by the screaming silence in her mind.

“What a charming wife you have, Damon,” one man said, his gaze lingering on her a beat too long.

“She’s perfect,” Damon replied smoothly, his tone laced with pride—and possession. His hand tightened on her waist, his thumb pressing just enough to remind her who controlled her every move.

Emma smiled again, her cheeks aching from the effort.

“Excuse me, I need some air,” she murmured, slipping free of Damon’s grip.

His eyes narrowed, but he allowed it, his lips curving into a dangerous smile.

“Don’t wander too far,” he said, his voice soft but laced with steel. “You wouldn’t want me to come looking.”

She nodded, her heart hammering as she stepped out onto the terrace. The cool night air kissed her skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the ballroom. She gripped the railing, her fingers trembling.

Was this her life now? A gilded cage with no escape? She had once dreamed of freedom, of running far away from Damon’s shadow, but every attempt ended the same—with Damon’s wrath.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The voice came from behind her, deep and familiar. Emma froze, her breath catching in her throat. She turned slowly, her heart skipping a beat when her eyes met his.

Jake.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and hope.

He looked older, more weathered, but his eyes still held that same warmth she remembered.

“Looking for you,” Jake said simply, his gaze steady. “You look…” He paused, his expression softening. “Emma, what has he done to you?”

The question hit her like a blow. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. How could she explain the years of fear, the endless nights of feeling like a prisoner in her own life?

“I’m fine,” she lied, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to pretend,” Jake said, stepping closer. “Not with me.”

Before she could answer, the terrace door swung open with a crash. Damon stood in the doorway, his expression thunderous.

“There you are,” Damon said, his voice deceptively calm. His eyes flicked to Jake, narrowing. “And who’s this?”

“A friend,” Jake said evenly, his tone unflinching.

Emma’s pulse quickened. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, and she felt Damon’s fury radiating toward her.

“A friend,” Damon repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. He stepped forward, placing himself between Emma and Jake. “I don’t recall inviting you, friend.”

“I don’t need your invitation,” Jake shot back, his voice calm but firm. “I’m here for Emma.”

Damon laughed, a low, dangerous sound.

“Emma doesn’t need saving,” he said, turning to her. His eyes bored into hers, daring her to contradict him. “Do you, darling?”

Emma felt the weight of his gaze, the unspoken threat in his words. Fear coiled in her chest, but then she looked at Jake—steady, unyielding.

“Emma?” Jake prompted gently.

Her throat tightened. She wanted to speak, to scream, to tell Jake to take her away, but the words wouldn’t come. Damon’s grip on her life was too strong.

“See?” Damon said, smirking. “She’s exactly where she belongs.”

“That’s not true,” Emma said suddenly, her voice trembling but resolute.

Damon’s smirk vanished, replaced by a glint of rage.

“What did you say?” he hissed, his hand reaching for her arm.

Jake stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Don’t touch her.”

Damon froze, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Damon sneered.

“Whatever it takes,” Jake said, his voice like steel.

The two men stood inches apart, the air between them charged with unspoken threats. Emma’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized the moment she had dreaded—and longed for—was here.

Damon turned to her, his expression dark.

“You have one chance, Emma,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Choose wisely.”

Her eyes flicked to Jake, then back to Damon. Her hands trembled at her sides, but she straightened, drawing a shaky breath.

“I already have,” she said, her voice firmer now.

Damon’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with fury.

“You’ll regret this,” he said, his tone venomous.

Emma stepped toward Jake, her heart racing. For the first time in years, she felt the faintest glimmer of hope.

“We’ll see,” she said quietly.

Damon’s smile returned, cold and dangerous.

“This isn’t over, Emma,” he said, his voice like a promise.

As they reached the front door, a voice called out from behind them.

“Leaving so soon?”

Emma turned, her blood running cold. Damon stood at the top of the stairs, flanked by two of his guards, a cruel smile on his lips.