Page 98 of Shattered Obsession

Damian thinks obsession is power.

He has no idea what love looks like.

Love isn’t gentle.

Love is war.

And I’ll ensure that Damian never draws another breath again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

-Thalia-

I awaken to an overwhelming darkness, the type that suffocates and engulfs you, far removed from the familiar feeling of night in my apartment, where the rhythmic hum of the refrigerator and the soft glow of streetlights keep shadows at bay. This darkness is thick and oppressive, cutting deeper than mere absence of light.

A searing pain radiates through my wrists, and when I instinctively attempt to move, I realize the source. Handcuffs, cold and unyielding. Fear surges through me with such intensity that it feels like a physical blow, leaving me gasping as I thrash wildly, trying to break free. But the chains rattle defiantly against the unforgiving stone walls, my prison, anchoring me in place.

The air down here is heavy with the musty scent of mildew laced with a cheap cologne that triggers a new wave of nausea. The scent of concrete, dust, and damp walls clings to my tongue like poison.

I test the cuffs again, wrists burning, metal biting into skin already torn open.

There are marks on the wall. Scratches. They aren’t mine.

That realization steals the air from my lungs.

Someone else tried to escape.

Someone else begged.

Someone else wasn’t let go.

My pulse roars in my ears, not just from fear anymore, but fury.

He doesn’t just hurt.

He collects.

Every bone in my body shakes, but my mind sharpens.

If he made someone else scratch these walls, then maybe I can leave my own mark.

I won’t disappear quietly.

It makes bile rise in my throat. In the dimness, a solitary light bulb flickers stubbornly, casting shadows that twist and elongate across the floor. My eyes catch the outline of an old wooden table in the corner, topped with a knife, a phone, and a half-crushed beer can, remnants of someone’s careless abandon.

“Awake already, princess?” The voice slithers into my awareness, sending a chill down my spine.

My pulse quickens, blood turning to ice in my veins. I twist frantically toward the sound, and there Damian stands, leaning casually in the doorway as if everything is perfectly normal, like he hadn’t just unraveled the fabric of my life only a short while ago. The shadows heighten his figure, making him appear bulkier. His beard is rough and unkempt, his smile unnervingly calm.

I struggle to breathe as panic claws at my throat.

“What do you want from me?” My voice cracks under the weight of dread. He saunters into the flickering light, his presence suffocating and imposing.

“What I always wanted. You.” His voice drips with a sinister undertone. “You ran off, played house with that mechanic boy, pretending you could be normal.” His smile sharpens, taking on a predatory edge. “But we both know you’re mine.”

“No,” I snap, my throat raw and defiant. “I’ll never be yours.” My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear my own voice.

The smile on his face doesn’t waver; it only grows more mocking as he inches closer, each deliberate step a reminder of my vulnerability. “Funny thing is, you don’t get to decide. You had your chance, Thalia. Now we do this my way. I was patient.” He sighs, almost bored. “I gave you space. I gave you time.” He leans in close enough for me to smell stale beer on his breath. “You wasted it.”