//HEAVEN'S POV//
I woke up with my wrists cuffed behind my back to a sturdy wooden beam.
wooden beam?
it's my bed frame
I try to get the cuff loose but they are too tight
suddenly it dawned on me that it was Damien that did this
"motherfucking piece of shit" I cursed
then I hear sound from the other side of the bed, which I can't see cause I am cuffed facing the other side of my room
but I don't need to look to know who it is, it's temptation himself
"tsk tsk tsk who are you referring to" he says with amusement in his voice, as he walks over to my side of view with eyes wandering over my body
"what the fuck Damie.." I say as I look down to see what he is staring at
my heart races as i realize I'm completely naked, my body on display.
I'M NAKED
DAMIAN IS IN MY ROOM
I'M CUFFED TO MY BED
HE'S HOLDING A GUN
I realize I'm screwed, panic setting in, i start to buck against my restraints. nothing.
i stare up at him. more like glare but I don't care.
He opens and closes the bullet chamber of my gun.
I know he's not checking it, he wants me to know it's loaded
Damien walks towards me. closer. closer.
till there is no space between us.
that when I notice his eyes, eyes dark with desire to burn everything down.
He presses the cold barrel of the gun against my cheek, tracing it down my neck slowly. "A mè rovina " he whispers, his voice dripping with menace.
he exhales
"Now I want you to be a good little girl, do not protest like you don't want it and don't fight it"
"I will stop if you truly don't want it, but if I sense that you are lying I will shoot you in your thighs and watch them bleed out. Understand?" he smiles
and foolishly I nod
because I'm tied up I justify in my head
"Now let's burn together MY RUIN"
//DAIMEN'S POV//
Her breath hitches as she feels the metal slide down her collarbone, between her breasts. She knows I won't hurt her, not really, but the fear is exhilarating.
I presses the gun against her navel, then lower, just above her mound.
with my free hand I slide my two fingers to her folds. she's wet.
I knew she got off on fear. I smiled cruelly as I dipped my fingers slowly into her
her breath hitches and her back arches
I stroke in and out but she's so tight. I stop, still leaving my fingers in her.
relaxing, she stares up at me
"are you a virgin?" I ask
"Y-yes," she stammers as she looks away .
twisting my fingers inside her, she stares back at me and I kiss her fiercely, our teeth and tongues colliding, invading each other's mouths, knowing I would be the first...NO
Her first
pulling out of her. she gasps
I spread her legs wide with the gun, the cold metal pressing between her thighs now.
I run it up and down her inner thighs slowly, teasingly, as she whimpers with each movement.
Suddenly I pull it back and fire - right beside her head against the wall.
The loud bang makes her jump violently against her restraints, a scream caught in her throat.
The gunpowder smell fills the air as I press the gun between her legs again immediately after firing.
My free hand grabs her hair roughly while the gun presses against her pussy lips. "Shh".
My voice is low and commanding as I whisper in her ear, "You like that? The fear? The danger?"
I pull the gun away and fire again, this time closer to her foot.
Her body trembles, her nipples hardening from the adrenaline and fear coursing through her veins.
Pressing the gun against her mouth now. "Open," I ordered.
She obeys slowly, with a little defiance in her eyes, pushing the barrel between her lips slightly before pulling it out more.
I fire another shot close beside them while my other hand slides up her inner thigh.
She bucks violently from the shock of the shot.
As my fingers brush against her most sensitive spot, feeling more wetness pool from her.
I smirk, knowing exactly what effect my actions are having on her. "You're a dirty little slut for fear, aren't you?" I growled, pressing the gun against her clit gently.
she moans softly, the vibrations against the gun making my eyes glint with sadistic pleasure.
I begin to slowly move the gun up and down her slit, her arousal coating the metal.
I stop placing the tip of the gun to her entrance warning her about what I am about to do.
she bucks against her restraint "NO" she tells me with her eyes widened.
"Sorry love but I have to use this, you can't take my dick yet we have to start with something smaller" I explain without her response I grab her hip with my free hand and slam her down onto the gun gently but quickly.
The sudden penetration makes her gasp loudly with tears forming in her eyes as the cold metal enters her pussy.
I start moving the gun in and out slowly, mimicking actual penetration.
I pull it out suddenly and press the barrel against her entrance again before repeating the motion.
"This is what a real dick would feel like," I say, thrusting the gun deeper each time. "It would tear through this little virgin pussy, fucking you so hard you'd scream." she moans.
I pull out quickly, firing a shot right beside her ear to add to her fear. she shriek's but not out of fear out of pleasure and desire.
//HEAVEN'S POV//
I stir in bed, remembering the violent release I had then fainted.....
... it was all Damian.
The first thing I feel is fabric — smooth, feels expensive, and far too large on my body.
His shirt.
I sit up slowly, every muscle reminding me of the night before. Not in pain… not exactly.
But marked.
Claimed.
The faint scent of smoke lingers in the air, mixing with something darker, something him. The sheets are still warm, but Damien is nowhere in sight. Only the nightstand betrays his presence — his gun rests there, polished, ready, like a silent promise.
I slide out of the bed, bare feet sinking into the thick carpet, my head clearer than it has been in days. I remember the way his voice had wrapped around me last night, low and unshakable, how it made my chest ache and my skin burn all at once.
He might think he's broken me. He hasn't.
Padding through the hallway, I follow the faint sound of liquid pouring into a cup. I stop at the doorway to his office.
He's there.
Of course he is.
Leaning back in that leather chair like a king holding court, coffee in one hand, his other lazily drumming the armrest. His eyes lift to mine, slow and deliberate, as though he's been waiting for me.
"Sleep well?" His voice is a velvet drawl.
I cross my arms. "Where are my clothes?"
" Torn," he says without missing a beat. "you were… in need of care and I made sure I FINISHED caring for you." he says with a casual grin.
My face flushed, my jaw tightens. "I'm leaving."
"No, you're not." The way he says it—like it's not up for discussion—makes my pulse spike.
"Damien—"
"yes? A mè picciridda rovina."
The words land heavy, curling around my ribs like chains I can't break.
He's called me that before. Always when he wants me off-balance, always when he's about to tear through my defenses.
I step further into the room, standing right before his desk. "Don't call me that."
"You wear it too well." His smirk sharpens. "The only thing in this world capable of destroying me… and you don't even realize it."
His gaze loses the lazy amusement, darkening to something far more dangerous. He sets his coffee down and opens the top drawer of his desk. A small silver key.
I ignore him and turn to leave
"Don't you want to know about your father's secrets."
I halt and turn back facing him, knowing well I fell for his bait.
Something cold and heavy twists in my gut.
The bottom drawer clicks open. Files. Old, worn, and organized with the kind of precision only someone dangerous would use. He sets a file on the table.....
Walking closer
I take the file, my hands are steady, even though my pulse is a war drum in my ears.
The first folder makes my chest constrict — names I recognize from whispered warnings and half-told stories. Men my father claimed to despise… yet here's proof of business contracts with them.
Then… a photo.
Me, maybe six years old. My mother beside me. But the man with his hand on my shoulder isn't my father.
"What the hell is this?" My voice cracks.
Damien's eyes don't waver. "Your father wasn't just in the game, Heaven. He was playing both sides. And he wasn't the man you thought he was."
My mouth goes dry. "Who betrayed him?"
His smirk fades. "Someone close. Close enough to finish what they started… and they'll come for you too."
My throat feels tight, but I can't stop looking at the files. Each page is another fracture in the story I've lived my whole life.
// DAMIEN'S POV//
She doesn't know it, but I can see the exact second her trust in her father splinters. It's in the way she breathes—shallow, careful, like she's afraid inhaling too hard will make the truth crush her.
Good.
The truth is dangerous, but it's also a leash. And she's already wrapping it around her own throat.
I lean back in my chair, watching her fingers tremble as she flips through the pages. She thinks it's anger. She doesn't realize it's hunger—hunger for answers, for justice. Hunger that I can feed… or starve.
"You have two choices, A mè rovina ." I rise from the chair, closing the distance between us in slow, measured steps. "Pretend you never saw this… and live a lie."
Her shoulders stiffen.
"Or," I continue, my voice lowering, "stay with me. We burn every bridge. And we dig until we hit the rot."
She turns to look at me, defiance simmering in her eyes. She doesn't see that it's exactly what I want.
I step closer, close enough for her to feel the heat off my body. My hand grazes her jaw, just barely, and I bend to whisper in her ear.
"Pick carefully, Heaven… because whichever you choose…" My lips brush her skin. "…you're already mine."
When she looks back at the file, she's shaking. But it's not fear anymore.
It's the beginning of surrender.