Chapter 9

The door slammed shut behind Elijah, and the tension in the room seemed to coil tighter, suffocating me.

Damian stood frozen, staring at the door with a look that sent chills down my spine. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands still clenched into tight fists at his sides. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

For a moment, I thought he might break the silence, that maybe he’d turn and walk away. But then his gaze snapped to me, wild and unhinged, as if I were the one responsible for everything spiraling out of control.

“You’re really going to let him control you?” Damian’s voice was raw, bitter, and laced with something darker, something almost desperate. “After everything we’ve been through, you choose him?”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I didn’t choose—”

“Yes, you did,” Damian spat, cutting me off. “You chose him the moment you crawled into his bed. You let him mark you. And now, you’re trapped. Is that what you wanted, Annabel? To be someone else’s prisoner?”

The accusation