Chapter 224

DAMIEN

The first thing I felt was pain… a dull, throbbing ache in my jaw and a sharper burn around my wrists.

I groaned low in my throat, forcing my heavy eyelids open. The world swam into focus slowly, blurred at the edges. Concrete walls. A single bare bulb swinging faintly overhead, casting long, sickly shadows. I was sitting in a metal chair, arms pulled forward, wrists bound tightly with thick, coarse rope that dug into my skin. My shirt was rumpled and damp with sweat. There was blood in my mouth… metallic and warm.

Memories slammed into me like fists.

The bar. The scotch burning down my throat. The fight with Brielle…her tears, her determination to see Thomas, the way I had stormed out like a goddamn fool instead of staying to protect her. The garage. The prickle on the back of my neck. The sharp prick in my neck.

And then nothing.

I jerked hard against the ropes, testing them instantly. The chair creaked but held. Pain flared in my wrists, but I didn’t stop. I pulled again, muscles straining, jaw clenched so tight it sent fresh pain radiating through my bruised face.

“Brielle,” I rasped, voice hoarse and raw. The word came out like a prayer and a threat at the same time.

My pregnant wife. Our daughter. Alone in the penthouse. After I had left her crying on the couch because I couldn’t handle the idea of her facing her father again. The guilt hit me harder than any blow could have. I had walked out. I had left her vulnerable. And now someone had taken me… someone who clearly knew too much about us.

I pulled against the ropes again, harder this time, ignoring the blood I could feel trickling down my wrists. “Whoever the fuck you are,” I growled into the dim room, “you made the biggest mistake of your life. Touch my wife or my child and I will tear you apart piece by piece. Slowly. I will make you beg for death before I’m done.”

Silence answered me at first.

Then a soft, delighted giggle echoed from the shadows in the corner of the room…high-pitched, almost childlike, but with something rotten underneath it.

“Oh… you’re awake. Good. I was hoping we could talk before I send her the next picture.”

The voice made my skin crawl. I strained to see into the darkness, every muscle coiled tight, ready to fight even bound as I was. “Show yourself, you coward. Or are you only brave when you drug people from behind?”

Another giggle, closer this time. A figure stepped partially into the light …slight build, hooded jacket pulled low over the face, shoulders hunched as if trying to disappear into the shadows. But even in the dim light, I could see the feminine curve of her jaw, the delicate line of her neck, the way her hands fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. She was a woman, no older than her late twenties or early thirties, trying desperately to hide it. Strands of dark hair escaped the hood, and when she tilted her head, the light caught on wide, fever-bright eyes lined with smudged eyeliner.

“You’re even more handsome up close, Shadow King,” the voice cooed, soft and breathy, almost reverent. “Just like in her book. Tall. Powerful. Possessive. The one who keeps the light trapped in his castle of shadows. But don’t worry… I’m going to set her free. Just like the heroine deserved.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” I gaped, yanking harder against the ropes, the coarse fibers tearing into my wrists. Blood trickled down my skin, but the pain barely registered. “Who the hell are you? What have you done to Brielle?”

She giggled again, a high, girlish sound that didn’t match the intensity in her eyes. She took another small step forward, still staying mostly in shadow, but I could see more now… the way her shoulders trembled with excitement, the faint tremble in her hands.

“I’m doing this for Brielle,” she said, voice dropping into something almost dreamy. “She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m her guardian. Her protector. I read The Veiled Heart the day it came out. Then again. And again. Dozens of times. Every night. The way the Shadow King controlled her… the way he made her think his chains were love… it broke my heart. But you…you’re even worse than him. You’re real. You walk around like you own her. You hover over her. You tell her what to do. You stormed out on her last night and left her crying. I saw it all. I was watching. She deserves better. She deserves freedom. And I’m going to give it to her.”

My blood turned to ice. The Veiled Heart. This wasn’t random. This was someone who had read Brielle’s book and lost themselves in it completely …someone who believed the fantasy was real and that I was the villain who needed to be removed.

“You are insane…” I growled, voice low and lethal.

“Or am I?” she shot back, tilting her head with another soft giggle. “In the book, the heroine was trapped. Everyone thought the Shadow King loved her, but he was suffocating her. Controlling her. Making her doubt herself. Just like you do with Brielle. You think you’re protecting her, but you’re caging her. You’re exactly like him. And I won’t let you keep hurting her.”

I lunged forward in the chair as far as the ropes would allow, voice dropping into a deadly growl. “Listen to me very carefully. If you so much as breathe in my wife’s direction, I will hunt you down and make your death last weeks. You think you know the story? You don’t know shit. Brielle is mine. She chose me. She loves me. And I protect what’s mine with everything I have. Let me go now and I might make it quick. Keep this up and I promise you’ll regret every second you’ve been alive.”

She tilted her head, giggling again like I had told a joke. “So fierce. So protective. Just like the Shadow King in the book. But he fell in the end, didn’t he? The heroine drove the blade through his heart. Blood like rivers of night. Only then could the dawn break. I can do that for Brielle. I can make it poetic. Slow. Beautiful. She’ll thank me when it’s over. When she’s finally free from you.”

Rage exploded through me, white-hot and blinding. I roared, throwing my entire body weight against the ropes, the chair scraping loudly against the concrete floor. “You will not touch her! You will not go near my family! Brielle is not trapped. She is loved. She is safe with me. Whatever sick fantasy you’ve built in your head — it ends now. Let me go and walk away while you still can.”

She sighed dreamily, almost affectionately, stepping a little closer. I could see more of her face now — pale skin, wide unblinking eyes, a small smile playing on her lips like she was sharing a secret with a friend. “You don’t understand yet. But you will. I have no interest in hurting Brielle. I’d never hurt her. I love her, you know. More than you ever could. She poured her soul into that book, and I felt every word. I understood her pain. Her longing for freedom. You’re the chain holding her back”

I kept fighting the ropes, blood slicking my wrists, every muscle screaming. “You’re delusional. Brielle doesn’t need saving from me. She needs me. She chose me. If you lay your hands on her—“

“I won’t,” she interrupted cheerfully. “I’m not like you. I don’t control. I liberate. I’ll send her pictures. So she can see the story unfold. Just like her readers always wanted. The Shadow King’s fall… it’s going to be legendary. And maybe… maybe she’ll finally see me. The one who truly understood her.”

Her eyes gleamed with that feverish excitement again as she stepped back into the shadows.

I kept pulling against the ropes, blood slicking my wrists, every muscle burning. “You’re fucking delusional. Brielle will never thank you for this. She loves me. She chose me. When she finds out what you’ve done, she’ll hate you.”

A soft, delighted laugh floated from the darkness. “Oh, Shadow King… you still don’t understand the story. But you will. Soon.”

She disappeared for a few minutes. I used the time to test the chair again, rocking it violently, trying to find any weakness in the ropes or the frame. The concrete floor scraped under the legs, but nothing gave. My jaw throbbed where they had hit me earlier. My head still spun from whatever they had injected me with.

Then she returned.

The woman stepped back into the dim light carrying a small black bag. In her hands were tools: a small knife, pliers, thin wire, and a camera on a tripod.

She set the camera up carefully in front of me, adjusting the angle with meticulous care, humming a soft, off-key tune the whole time. The red recording light blinked on.

“Let’s get the fun started,” she whispered, almost to herself.

My stomach twisted, but I lifted my chin, staring her down. “You think this will make Brielle love you? Hurting me? She’ll despise you. She’ll hunt you down herself.”

The woman tilted her head, smiling dreamily as she pulled on thin black gloves. “She doesn’t know what she needs yet. But she will. When the Shadow King is gone, she’ll be free. Just like in the book.”

She stepped closer, the knife glinting in the low light. Her hand trembled with excitement as she pressed the blade against my chest, just below the collarbone. Not deep…yet. Just enough to sting.

I didn’t flinch.

The woman giggled and pressed the blade deeper. A sharp burn flared across my skin as blood welled up. She dragged it slowly, carving a thin line, her eyes fixed on my face like she was savoring every reaction.

“Does it hurt?” she asked sweetly. “In the book, the Shadow King screamed when the blade went in. But you’re so quiet. So strong. I like that. It makes this more fun.”

I hissed as she twisted the knife slightly, but I kept my eyes locked on hers. “You think this scares me? I’ve survived worse than you”

She pulled the knife back, admiring the thin trail of blood, then reached for the pliers. “The heroine had to break the Shadow King’s fingers one by one before he finally begged. Do you remember that scene? So powerful. So necessary.”

The pliers closed around my left index finger. She squeezed slowly, increasing pressure until the bone creaked. Pain exploded up my arm. I clenched my jaw so hard I tasted blood, refusing to give her the scream she wanted.

“For Brielle,” she whispered, almost lovingly, as she tightened further. “For her freedom.”

The finger snapped.

A guttural sound tore from my throat despite my best efforts. White-hot agony shot through me. Sweat poured down my face as I panted through the pain.

She beamed. “There it is. The first crack. The readers loved this part. They cheered when the Shadow King broke.”

I spat blood at her feet, breathing hard. “You’re sick. Brielle will never forgive you for this.”

The woman tilted her head, eyes shining with tears of her own — tears of joy. “She thinks she loves you. But I’ll show her the truth. Slowly. One piece at a time.” She moved the pliers to the next finger. “Tell me, Shadow King… how many bones do you think it will take before you beg like he did in the book?”