Page 1 of Claimed By the Damned
Chapter 1: Shattered Wings
Lila
You’re probably wondering how I got here. But there’s no time for explanations. No time for second-guessing. Right now, I’m running for my life.
And let me tell you, running barefoot on marble floors? It’s like trying to sprint across an ice rink in socks—slippery, reckless, and a disaster waiting to happen.
The sharp cold of the polished stone shot through the soles of my feet, reminding me just how exposed I was.
My heart pounds like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest as I press my back against the equally frigid wall.
Somewhere down the long hallway, the sharp tread of boots on marble echoed—Routine patrols? Or searching? I couldn't tell. Each distant step hammered in time with my pulse, making my skin crawl. My breath catches, too fast, too shallow. Even a guard turning the wrong corner could mean discovery. If they find me, I’m dead. If I trip, I’m dead. Hell, if I breathe too loud, I’m probably dead.
Theo gave me three minutes. Three minutes to make the kind of decision that determined whether I lived or died. No pressure, right?
Three minutes to slip out of Kolya’s suite, dodge his guards, and make it to the service corridors. Three minutes to grab onto the one chance I had at freedom. My bare feet barely make a sound as I move forward, sweat slicking my palms.
A shadow shifts near the doorway. My stomach clenches.
Theo steps into view, eyes locked onto mine. Even in the dim light, tension ridged his jaw, the way his fingers twitched near the gun at his hip.
“Let's go,” he mouths, moving in step with me.
I don’t think. We move, our feet pounding against the floor in sync, urgency driving us forward.
The hall stretches endlessly before us, the air thick with tension. My pulse hammers in my ears, every footstep echoing like a warning. I know this house. Every locked door and every hidden camera Kolya installed to trap me here.
Theo had done everything he could; disabled the cameras, mapped my best escape route, and created distractions. He couldn’t walk me out the front door, but he could stack the deck in my favor.
Now, it was all me. But the key? That had to be last-minute. If he slipped it to me and anyone noticed, we’d both be dead. I had seconds to act, to take what Theo risked everything to give me. If I can just—
A shout.
My stomach twists. Chaos explodes behind me—Russian voices barking orders, the thunder of boots. Any hope of a subtle escape evaporated. Now, it was a desperate race, and Theo sticking close was my only shield. I tear down the stairs, skipping the last few steps, landing hard enough to rattle my bones.
The harsh impact jolts through me, jarring loose a memory—cold tile against my cheek, fingers yanked my hair back so hard stars danced behind my eyes, sharp pain lancing through my scalp. Kolya's voice, low and final—"You're not going anywhere".I shove the memory away and run faster.
The front door looms ahead—big, heavy, and, of course, locked. After the first time, he's doubled down. His control is a steel net, cinched tighter with every camera he's added, every sensor he's buried under those damn Persian rugs, reinforced by men who would slit their own mother's throat for his money. He's expecting me to try something. He'll probably enjoy crushing this attempt even more than the last. Nothing about escaping Kolya can ever be easy.
Theo skids to a stop beside me, shoving something metallic into my palm. The key. Its chill bites into my skin, a sickening echo of the way Kolya's ring felt against me, a sudden, sharp reminder of my cage. My fingers tremble, but I grip the cool metal—this is real, this is escape—and clutch it tighter.
“Go,” he grits out, yanking his gun free. “I’ll hold them off.”
My fingers curl around the key, but my feet refuse to move. Every instinct scream to stay, to help him, but the cold logic of survival froze me. Stay, we both die. Run... he pays the price. My heart begs me to stay. My brain knows better.
“Lila, GO!”
I jam the key into the lock, twist, and the night swallows me whole.
The cold air slams into me, burning my lungs like fire. The scent of damp earth and exhaust fumes—the smell of freedom—hit me almost as hard as the temperature drop. Every breath is a knife in my chest. My feet hit gravel, pain flaring through my soles as jagged stones tear at my skin, but I don’t stop.
I sprint toward the car parked down the road. Its engine is already running—thank you, Theo—which means I have exactly one shot at this. I yank the door open and fling myself inside. The stale scent of old coffee and something metallic—gun oil?—filled the small space, mingling with the lingering smell of Theo.
I barely slam the door shut before my shaking hands yank the gear shift into drive. Tires screech as I peel away, headlights slicing through the darkness.
I've done it.
I've actually done it.
