Chapter 3 — The Lion’s Den

POV: Kim Haemin

The heavy door clicked shut behind me, the sound hollow and final like a verdict. The echo still rung in my ears, sharper than the storm outside.

I stood frozen just inside the threshold of the vast room, my breath shallow, heart pounding in a way that made my ears buzz. The air was thick — thick with lingering smoke, luxury, and something darker. The scent that followed Demitri wherever he went, that now clung to my clothes, my skin, my very soul.

The room was enormous, almost suffocating in its grandeur. Black marble floors gleamed beneath my feet, polished to a mirror shine that reflected the flickering light of the fire in the hearth. Heavy velvet drapes in midnight blue framed tall windows streaked with rain. The walls were adorned with gold leaf accents and old Russian tapestries that whispered of centuries of power and bloodshed.

My eyes were drawn to the centerpiece — the bed. It was colossal, draped with rich red and black silk, crowned with an ornate canopy carved with lion motifs. It looked like a throne as much as a place to sleep, and it swallowed the room whole.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

A moment passed — stretched thin and sharp — and I heard footsteps.

Slow. Measured. Deliberate.

He entered the room without a word, the silence filling every crack and corner between us. His black suit was already loosened at the collar, and the faint scar on his chest peeked from beneath his shirt. The weight of him filled the room like a storm about to break.

His golden eyes locked onto mine. The way he looked at me was a mixture of ownership, challenge, and something harder to place — a flicker of something raw, maybe even... vulnerability.

"You're trembling," he said, voice low and dark.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, trying to steady myself.

"I'm not afraid," I said too quickly, too loudly.

His lips curved into a cold smile. "You're a terrible liar."

I forced myself to meet his gaze, to steady my shaking knees.

"This isn't how I thought it would be," I admitted quietly.

He stepped closer, the scent of fire and leather wrapping around me like a cloak.

"What did you think it would be, Haemin? Roses? Soft words whispered under moonlight? A fairytale?"

I didn't answer.

Because part of me had dreamed of those things once. Before the debt. Before the chains. Before the Lion claimed me.

His voice dropped even lower. "You're mine now. Marked and bound. The bite on your neck is not just a symbol. It's a promise, a cage, and a warning."

The intensity of his gaze pinned me in place. The firelight flickered against his sharp features, casting shadows that made him look less human and more like the predator he was.

I swallowed hard, heart pounding in my chest. "I won't run."

His lips lifted just slightly. "We'll see."

He moved to a side table and poured himself a glass of dark amber whiskey. The rich smell filled the space between us. He didn't offer me any.

I felt like I was watching a performance, a king preparing for battle, and I was his unwilling pawn.

He removed his watch, placing it on the table with deliberate care. Then his rings, cufflinks — each piece of armor peeled away one by one until he stood before me stripped of everything but that aura of control.

I took a cautious step back, only to find myself trapped by the bed behind me. My heart hammered faster.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I forced my eyes to meet his.

"You belong to me now. Every breath you take, every move you make, is mine."

The words settled over me like a shroud.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing my cheek, cold as ice but burning like fire. I shivered involuntarily.

"You will learn to obey," he said softly. "Or you will break trying."

I wanted to scream. To push him away. To run.

But my body wouldn't move.

Instead, I swallowed the lump in my throat and whispered, "I won't break."

He studied me like a puzzle, eyes narrowing.

"Good," he said finally. "Because I don't plan on letting you go."

He turned away and walked toward the fireplace. The flames crackled, throwing wild shadows on his back.

I was alone with my thoughts.

Fear. Confusion. An unbearable longing for freedom.

But beneath it all was something new — a dangerous spark of… curiosity? Hope?

Was it possible that inside this dark cage, I could find something like light?

The fire crackled behind him, but all I could hear was the deafening roar in my mind.

My hands trembled, clutching the thin fabric of my shirt. I'd always thought I was stronger than fear — but this was something else. This wasn't just the unknown. It was submission. Ownership. A surrender I hadn't chosen but was being forced into with every breath I took.

Demitri's silhouette turned back to me, the golden glow in his eyes intensifying.

"Come," he said.

I hesitated. My feet felt like they were stuck in wet cement. The air between us was thick with expectation, danger, and something… unspoken.

He stepped forward and reached out his hand. Not demanding, but patient.

A silent offer. A warning.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, then placed my hand in his.

His grip was firm, cold, yet grounding — like the anchor I never wanted but desperately needed.

He pulled me closer until I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the steady pulse of his heartbeat beneath the surface.

His scent was overwhelming — smoky leather, fire, and something intoxicatingly human beneath it all.

My chest tightened.

"Tonight," he murmured, "you will learn what it means to be mine."

I nodded, barely able to speak.

He led me to the bed — the lion's throne.

I sat down, my body still trembling.

He stood before me, every inch the predator, the king.

The air between us crackled.

Then, unexpectedly, he crouched down to my level, his eyes boring into mine.

"Do you understand what this means?" he asked.

"I think… I'm starting to," I whispered.

A slow smile — almost a smirk — curved his lips.

"Good."

He stood, turning away, and pulled a long black cloak from a nearby chair.

Without looking back, he draped it over my shoulders.

The fabric was heavy, warm — a strange comfort.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my racing heart.

When I opened them, he was already preparing for the night ahead.

The door remained closed.

Outside, the storm raged.

Inside, the lion had claimed his den.

End Of Chapter 3.