Chapter 33
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.”
I jerk against the cuffs, the chains clanging and echoing like a desperate cry for help. My heart races as familiar terror twists in my gut, but beneath that fear, something else ignites—strength.
Xander will come for me; I know it. I trust in his determination. But until he arrives, I must endure.
I think of every moment Damian stole from me.
Every breath.
Every choice.
Every piece of myself I lost in the darkness.
And I feel something inside me shift. For the first time, I don’t picture Xander saving me.
I picture myself surviving.
Not because I’m unafraid, but because I refuse to let Damian be the last chapter of my life.
He may have taken my power once.
But I get to decide how this ends.
I lift my chin.
Even chained, even terrified, I look him dead in the eye.
And I smile.
Not sweet.
Not scared.
A warning.
I am not prey.
My fear isn’t gone, but fear is no longer the loudest thing in me.
Somewhere beneath the shaking, beneath the panic, a new emotion takes form, and if he slips even for a moment, if I spot a crack in his facade, I’ll make sure this confrontation ends with him as the one who falls.
-Damian-
She appears so fragile down here, restrained to the old wooden beam like a discarded toy, head bowed, dark hair a tangled mess falling across her face.
As I pace the damp basement, the chains rattle behind me when she tugs at them, a sound that resonates like a melody in my ears. Each clang is an affirmation; she understands who owns her.
“You thought you could hide from me, didn’t you?” I let my voice bounce off the cold concrete walls. “You believed that boy could keep you safe. But he can’t protect you from yourself, Thalia. Not like I can.”
She responds with a bitter laugh that seems to shake her entire frame, ragged and shaky. “Protect me? You ruined me.”
I lean in, reveling in her fear and defiance. Her flinch only fuels my twisted delight.
“No. I made you,” I insist, stepping closer so she can feel the heat radiating from my body.
“You wouldn’t even understand your own strength without me.
I gave you the scars, the fear, the fire.
And when you finally break again, as I know you will…
” I stroke a knuckle down her cheek, relishing the way she jerks back from my touch.
“I’ll be the one to piece you back together. ”
The rage I see flaring in her eyes almost makes me chuckle. She still clings to the illusion of choice. I pull away, snatching the knife from the table and catching the dull bulb’s light on the blade’s edge. Her breath hitches, and I savor her fear.
“Maybe it’s time I remind you what happens when you fight me.
You’ll listen this time. You’ll learn,” I say, crouching in front of her, twirling the knife between my fingers with a casual ease that belies its lethal potential.
“And when he finally shows up…” A wide grin spreads across my face.
“I’ll let him watch. Let him see that no matter how hard he fights, you’re mine. ”
I long to see Xander break, to watch him crumble in agony, because nothing is sweeter than taking what belongs to another man. And as for Thalia, she will plead for me in the end, like they all did.
-Thalia-
The basement is a chilling void, the cold concrete floor seeping into my skin, numbing my senses.
My wrists throb painfully from the iron cuffs biting into them, each futile tug a stark reminder of my captivity.
The sound of Damian’s heavy boots echo against the hard floor as he prowls around me, his presence a dark shadow that looms closer with every silent step.
The knife in his hand glimmers with a menacing light, reflecting off the weak, flickering bulb hanging overhead.
He doesn’t touch me yet, and that’s the worst part.
The anticipation is suffocating; he watches and waits, allowing the oppressive silence to fill the space between us until I find myself gasping for air that seems perpetually out of reach.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” he hisses, crouching down to my level, his breath hot and invasive against my ear.
“It races when you think of him, and slows when you entertain thoughts of me. Guess who comes out on top in the end?” I clamp my mouth shut, grappling with the tremor threatening to escape as I wrestle with my fear.
I tell myself that I can’t give him the satisfaction.
I refuse to give in. But when he presses the cold, flat edge of the blade against my throat, I go rigid.
In my silence, the cruel laughter spills from his lips, echoing like a death knell around the barren walls.
Damian kneels beside me, his head tilted like a predator assessing its prey, eyes alight with a twisted hunger as they rake over my face.
“He’s coming for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a delicious secret. “I want him to. But when he arrives? He won’t recognize what’s left of you.”
The chains clink as I tug against them, the metal scraping against my skin, the sharp pain grounding me momentarily. My brain tries to run while my body stays trapped.
I watch my hands tremble through a haze, like they don’t belong to me. I focus on anything beyond the pain, beyond Damian. The corner of the room. The faint scrape of the chain against the pipe. The drip, drip, drip of water from somewhere overhead, like a clock that refuses to move.
Think.
Breathe.
Don’t disappear.
Damian liked when I went still, when he could see the moment I left my body. I will not give him that. Not this time.
I try to flex my fingers, try to get sensation back. Everything feels distant, like touching someone else’s skin through gloves. The ache is sharp, pulsing with my heartbeat. The air smells like rust and mold, the taste of damp concrete resting heavy at the back of my throat.
I whisper to myself, barely audible, “Stay here. Stay awake.”
The panic tries to rise anyway.
But I force myself back into the room, into my body, into the fight.
I am not disappearing for him. Not again.
In a breathless whisper, I utter Xander’s name like an urgent prayer, even if it falls on deaf ears.
My throat burns as I speak his name, a raw rasp that barely shapes itself into sound.
For a moment, something inside me cracks—not from fear, but from anger.
Damian thinks that taking my mobility, taking my power, means taking me.
But he doesn’t know that I am not the same girl he broke before.
Every scar he left in his wake became armor.
Every bruise taught me exactly where to land the blow when it’s my turn.