Chapter 5: A Dangerous Devotion

Lucian Blackthorne watched as Liora Valmont moved through the grand halls of his estate, her defiant stride unbroken despite the choker around her neck. He had expected no less.

She was a wild thing, and wild things did not take kindly to being caged.

His fingers tightened around the glass of whiskey in his hand as he observed her from the shadows, unseen yet ever-present. She thought she had won small victories—her sharp tongue, her constant attempts to defy him—but what she did not know was that every single move she made was precisely what he wanted. Every struggle, every spark of rebellion only deepened his obsession.

He let her run that night. He let her believe, for a fleeting moment, that freedom was within reach. He had trailed behind her, watching from a distance, allowing her to taste the night air, to feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. And then, when she was on the verge of believing she had truly escaped, he had taken her back.

Lucian had known Liora long before she had known him. He had watched her for years, studying her, understanding every detail of her life. From the way she laughed at the smallest things to the way her eyes darkened when she was lost in thought. He knew the way she curled her fingers around the stem of a wine glass, the way she tilted her head when she was suspicious. She was a puzzle, one he had spent years piecing together. And now, she was his.

Possession. The word was inadequate to describe the depth of his fixation. He didn't just want to own her; he wanted to consume her. To have every ounce of her attention, every breath, every thought dedicated to him. It was maddening, intoxicating.

He had been patient. Oh, so patient. Watching from the shadows, pulling strings when necessary. He had intercepted threats she never knew existed, eliminated problems before they could touch her. He had orchestrated her fate, weaving himself into the fabric of her life long before she had ever laid eyes on him.

And then, when the time was right, he had taken her.

Liora thought she was here by chance, by some cruel twist of fate. But fate had nothing to do with it. It was by his design. Every decision, every event that had led her here had been carefully arranged. He had made sure of it.

She could hate him all she wanted. He welcomed it. Because at the end of the day, hate was just another form of attention, another form of devotion.

And Lucian Blackthorne would settle for nothing less than her complete and utter devotion.

With a slow, satisfied sip of his whiskey, he stepped out of the shadows.

"Going somewhere, little rebel?"

Liora turned sharply, her blue eyes flashing with anger as she yanked at the choker. "You really get off on this, don't you?" she spat, her voice laced with defiance.

Lucian tilted his head, watching her with quiet amusement. "On what, exactly?"

"On controlling me. On keeping me locked up like some kind of pet."

A smirk played at his lips as he took a step closer, his presence filling the space between them. "You say that like you're surprised."

She clenched her fists. "I don't belong to you."

"Oh, but you do." His voice was smooth, dangerously soft. "You have belonged to me from the moment I first laid eyes on you."

Liora let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" He took another step, forcing her to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. "Tell me, Liora, if I am truly as monstrous as you claim, why did I let you go that night?"

She faltered, her lips parting slightly. "What?"

Lucian leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. "I let you run. I let you feel the thrill of freedom, the hope of escape. And then I took it away."

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "Why?"

He chuckled darkly. "Because now you know what it feels like to be without me. Now you understand that no matter how far you run, you will always end up right back where you belong."

She shook her head, but he could see the flicker of doubt in her expression. Good. He was inside her mind now, just as she had been inside his for years.

Lucian had not merely stumbled upon Liora. He had cultivated her existence, shaped it in ways she could not yet comprehend. He had ensured that every person who entered her life was precisely who he allowed to be there. He had eliminated potential distractions, threats, even suitors who might have dared to steal her gaze away from him.

He remembered the first time he had seen her—years ago, at a social event, when she had laughed at something insignificant and yet the sound had wrapped around his ribs and squeezed until he could barely breathe. That was the moment he had known.

She was meant for him.

From that day forward, he had ensured she was always within reach, even when she didn't realize it. He had infiltrated every aspect of her world, manipulated circumstances, nudged fate in his favor. It was only a matter of time before he brought her into his arms. And now, she was here.

Lucian stepped even closer, until there was barely an inch between them. "You can fight all you want, Liora. Scream, curse me, claw at the walls. But the sooner you accept the truth, the easier this will be."

Her breaths were shallow, her hands trembling at her sides. Yet she did not step back. That, more than anything, told him he had already won.

Just then, a sudden explosion rocked the estate, sending a violent tremor through the floors. The chandeliers above them swayed, glass tinkling as dust and debris rained down from the ceiling.

Liora gasped, her hands flying up to shield herself. Lucian immediately grabbed her wrist, yanking her to his side, his grip unrelenting. His sharp gaze darted towards the doors as the muffled sound of shouting and gunfire filled the halls.

An attack.

His jaw tightened. Someone had dared to breach his sanctuary.

His men engaged the intruders in a brutal firefight. Through the security monitors in the bunker, he watched them—masked figures, moving with precision, skilled mercenaries. They knew his estate well. Too well.

One of his guards collapsed, blood splattering the marble floor. Lucian clenched his fists. Whoever had orchestrated this would not leave alive.

Liora flinched at the sound of more gunfire. He turned to her, his grip tightening. "This is why you need me," he said, voice low and deadly. "Without me, you wouldn't last a day."

Her eyes burned with defiance. "Or maybe it's because of you that I'm in danger."

Lucian smirked darkly. "Either way, you'll never be rid of me."

A voice crackled over the radio. "Sir, they're breaching the east wing."

Lucian let out a slow breath. Then he turned to Liora and ran a finger along her jaw. "Stay here. Don't test me."

Then, without another word, he stepped out of the bunker, his eyes burning with rage.

Whoever had come for Liora had made a fatal mistake.

And Lucian Blackthorne was going to make them pay.