Chapter 2: His House, His Rules
The carriage stopped.
Before I could breathe, the door flew open and I was dragged out like a stray. My bare feet hit polished stone—cold, hard, unfamiliar.
Behind me, the gates clanged shut.
So this is the Duke's estate...
Black stone. Towering spires. Iron vines twisted around glass windows like claws. The building didn't look like a home. It looked like a fortress designed to keep things out—and trap monsters in.
"Finally," a voice sneered.
I turned.
She was breathtaking. All curves and silk, with lips like blood and eyes that dripped superiority.
"I'm Lilith," she said with a tilt of her head. "His favorite."
She didn't wait for me to answer. Her gaze swept over the chains on my wrists, the dirt on my skin, the scars I didn't bother to hide.
"You must be Evelyn—the Smith family's little embarrassment."
She took a step closer. Her perfume was sweet and cloying, like poisoned honey.
"Let's be clear," Lilith whispered. "You may have the ring, but I have the bed. And that's where it counts."
I stared at her, unblinking. Silent.
My silence was the only weapon they couldn't twist.
It unnerved her.
"Stay quiet," she said through clenched teeth. "You'll last longer that way."
Two servants approached and seized my arms. "Take her to the East Wing," Lilith ordered. "She sleeps in the servant quarters."
We walked through endless halls—cold, echoing, empty. I counted the turns. Memorized the doorways. Weak girls obeyed. Evelyn planned.
The room they shoved me into was small and bare. No bed. Just a ragged mat and a thin blanket dumped on the floor. One cracked window. No candles.
The door slammed shut behind me.
I didn't cry.
I spread the blanket. Sat.
And waited.
Until the lock clicked.
The door opened.
And he stepped in.
Bryant Kings.
Tall, broad, and cold as the walls around him. His black coat was open over a silk shirt, a silver chain resting against his chest. Candlelight flickered against his face, all angles and shadows.
He looked like vengeance dressed in silk.
Evelyn didn't flinch.
He looked around the room once, then at me. Like I was something he didn't order, but was stuck with anyway.
"You didn't scream," he said.
"I don't scream," I replied.
He tilted his head. "You don't cry. You don't beg. You don't even blink."
He moved closer, his voice low. "Interesting."
I didn't stand.
He stopped in front of me, eyes narrowed. "When I enter, you stand."
I stayed still.
"Do you need help?" he asked.
Softly.
Too softly.
A warning.
"I said... stand."
I rose slowly. Deliberately. Not out of fear—out of control.
His jaw ticked.
"I gave you my name," he said. "In return, you follow my rules."
"And if I don't?"
He moved.
One step.
One breath.
And I was against the wall, his hand around my throat—not choking, but claiming.
"In this house," Bryant murmured, his breath ghosting my cheek, "I own everything that breathes—including you."
Evelyn stared into his eyes. Unblinking. Unbroken.
"If you wanted a doll," she whispered, "you should've married one of your whores."
Silence.
Then—
He leaned in closer.
So close her breath hitched.
"I don't play with dolls," he said. "I break them."
The door slammed behind him.
And Evelyn was left in the dark, heart racing, chains gone…
But war is just beginning.
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[End of Chapter Two]