Chapter 13: TROTZKOPF

***\-DAMIAN-***

I started the engine and felt the hum of the car almost bring me back to reality, but only almost. My thoughts chased each other through my head like a tornado. Jax. The name gnawed at me, the idea that he could get his hands on Celine... it ate me up from the inside. I had to calm down, keep a clear head. Everything inside of me screamed for action, but I knew I couldn’t go through with this alone. I needed a plan, my guys – if it came down to a fight with Jax, I couldn’t afford any mistakes.

The streets flew past me, the night was heavy and still when I saw the lights of my house. The adrenaline was pounding through my veins, and when I finally parked in front of the door, I couldn’t get out fast enough. I slammed the car door behind me, felt the tension in every fiber of my body as I unlocked the front door and entered the house.

It was quiet, too quiet – except for the soft clinking coming from the direction of the kitchen. I stopped abruptly, my heartbeat quickening again. Sounds? Here?

“What the hell...” I took a deep, cautious breath and crept quietly to the kitchen door, every movement tense. Slowly, I peered around the corner.

Celine.

She was standing there, holding a cup of coffee that she was just bringing to her lips, as if this were a normal morning, as if she hadn’t just vanished into thin air and rushed me across the city. For a moment I just stood there, the disbelief and pent-up anger compressed into a burning knot inside me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” My voice sounded sharper than I had intended, but the anger shot out without warning. ”And where the hell were you?”

She was startled and dropped the cup, the hot coffee splashing onto her skin. With a small scream, she tore the shirt off her body, her eyes widened in horror. “Are you crazy, Damian? Scaring me like that!”

I stepped closer, my steps heavy and threatening, every pent-up emotion in me ready to burst out. “Scare you?” I growled, reaching for her arms and pulling her close. “Damn it, Celine, I’ve been looking all over town for you!”

My fingers closed tighter around her arms and without thinking, I pushed her against the wall, my face so close to hers that she must have felt my breath on her skin. “You’ll never do that again. Never again, do you understand? I thought Jax had dragged me somewhere.”

Her eyes sparkled angrily, even though there was a hint of fear in them. “You sick bastard!” She pushed me away from her, her eyes glowing with anger and contempt. ‘I went to get us breakfast, you damned psychopath! And I met Jax at the bakery, we just talked!’ With a wild gesture, she pointed to the baker’s bag on the counter.

For a moment I just stood there, unable to fill the emptiness inside me, the realization that she had actually only gone out for that harmless breakfast. But the anger boiled up again, and this time fear mixed with a cold, stinging pain. She didn’t understand. She had no idea what was going on outside.

“Do you know what he did?” The question came out sharper than I had intended, every word a fresh wound I couldn’t heal. ”Do you have any idea what happened while you were just... gone?”

She put her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing. “No, asshole, I have no idea. Why don’t you enlighten me?” She took a step forward, her chest rising and falling faster as she built the tension between us, challenging me.

I roughly pulled her to the table, which was still full of crumbs and unwashed glasses, an image of chaos, matching the tension that now hung in the air.” He called me and claimed that he had you in his power... I was afraid for you, Celine – My hands gripped her shoulders, hard and firm, leaving no room for resistance. She laughed mockingly, “I guess dear Jax was just playing a joke on you!” “This isn’t funny, Celine.” My voice came like a dull, dark thunder that tore through the tense silence.

“What are you doing, Damian? Have you completely lost your mind?” Her voice was sharp, full of defiance, but a tremor crept into her tone, betraying the flickering something I was looking for in her. A hint of insecurity? Or perhaps remorse? She tried to break free, the muscles in her arms tensed, the anger flaring in her eyes.

I sensed her desperation, the wild twitching in her body, the fight against my grip. My fingers slid unyieldingly up to her neck and gripped her tightly, pushing her down until her cheeks touched the cold wood. “Stop it, Celine,” I murmured close to her ear, the words coming so low they sounded almost like a growl. ”I’m warning you – no games.”

Her breathing was rapid, erratic. I saw her try to regain the upper hand, try to buck me, but I didn’t give her any room. The trembling of her shoulders betrayed her tension, the pent-up frustration, the restlessness within her, the sparks of her untamed rage. That damn stubbornness, that irrepressible will that kept making her test boundaries.

“You think you can just do whatever you want, don’t you?” A cold smile flitted across my lips as I pressed my hand to the back of her neck and felt the heat of her body penetrating my skin. The hell I had been through, the pain that echoed inside me like an endless shadow – and she, with her indifference, her defiance, as if nothing had happened.

Her breathing quickened, her fingers dug into the edge of the table, white knuckles, like someone holding on to the last remnants of their self-control. I could feel the tension in her muscles, the hesitation that hung between us, a toxic veil of unspoken resistance and burning pride.

“You will learn, Celine,” I said softly, the words sharp as a blade that should strike her to the core. ”To lose your little stubborn head.”

My hands unbuttoned my pants... then I grabbed her hips and pulled her roughly to me... my feet spread her legs while I pressed myself against her body... and then, without a word, entered her...

A spark of contradiction flickered in her eyes, and I felt her push against my grip. But I wouldn’t let go – not now that the tension had cut like an invisible blade between us. She wanted to say something, her lips opened, hesitated, as if she wanted to hurl a last reproach at me, but I leaned over her, letting my gaze burn into hers unyieldingly.

“Oh God... Damian... what are you doing?” Her voice was a breath, barely audible, the words mingling with the heavy silence around us. There was something in her eyes – uncertainty, regret perhaps, but also a spark of defiance that drove me crazy.

“Shut your mouth, Celine,” I hissed, holding her tight, leaving no room for doubt, no way to escape. My fingers dug into her hips, feeling the heated tension of her skin under my touch. ‘You no longer have any say here,’ I continued, my words deep and rough, each one imbued with the darkness that seethed within me. “From now on, I say what I want – only that.”

A tremor went through her body, an uncertain breath that briefly lifted her chest against my grip. I saw the hesitation, the struggle in her eyes, as she tried to understand my words, perhaps even to admit to herself that she had no way out. She was trapped here – with me, with the consequences of her own decisions. A bitter smile twitched at my lips.

“I swear to you,” I whispered close to her ear, my breath stroking her skin as I sensed the tension in her posture, the restraint that was beginning to crumble softly. ”If you think you can just go on like this... you’re wrong.” My voice was a deep, dangerous murmur that filled the room. “Maybe it’s time you realized what it means to face consequences.”

Her eyes sparkled, a mixture of defiance and insecurity – she wanted to rebel, to fight, but the flames seemed only to pour more oil into the blazing fire that burned between us.

For a brief moment, I loosened my grip a little, and in that short second she seized her opportunity. Her hand flew in a swift movement and landed hard on my cheek. A sharp pain twitched across my face, and the old wound from two days ago burst open again. The warm feeling of blood slowly running over my skin was like a reminder that she had now crossed a line.

I felt my jaw muscles tighten, the throbbing pain in my face was nothing compared to the inner fire she had ignited with this movement. “Oh, you’ll regret this,” I murmured softly, as I clasped her tightly and led her to the cellar door. She began to struggle, kicking out, a spark of panic in her eyes, but I didn’t let go, my hands held her firmly and decisively.

As we went down the stairs, she squirmed, trying to break free, but with each step my grip tightened, and her resistance only made me more determined. Finally, we reached the room, and I led her to the St. Andrew’s cross, her movements desperate and combative, but her resistance only made her look more vulnerable.

I locked her wrists, her ankles, each click of the cuffs a silent, unspoken promise that she would pay the price for her stubbornness. She paused as she heard the soft clink of metal, the quiet creak echoing through the room as I stepped to the wall and grasped the whip.

The whip I held was unlike any ordinary whip – it was a unique piece, crafted with a dark elegance that emphasized its purpose in an almost ominous way. Heavy silver rivets ran along the plaited leather straps, serving not only as decoration. They added weight and an inescapable hardness that deepened each stroke, as if they were burning a part of their cold metal into the skin.

The rivets were set at regular intervals, each one firmly anchored and shiny like small, sharp eyes waiting for the right moment to leave their mark. The braiding was tight and careful, keeping the rivets secure but still prominent enough to be felt at the slightest contact. This design made the whip unique, and its effect was as calculated as it was devastating.

The handle itself was decorated with the same rivets, their cold tips pressing into the palm of my hand and causing a familiar tingling sensation – a harbinger of what was to come. This whip was more than a tool; it was a promise, a reminder of the unrelenting precision I demanded.

The atmosphere was heavy, pervaded by an intense silence, and I could feel the tension in her body, the uncertainty growing with each heartbeat.

“Damian... no...” Her voice was a soft plea that filled the air. But it was too late – she had crossed a line, and now words would not save her.