Lahat ng Kabanata ng Damien's Willing Captive : Kabanata 141 - Kabanata 150

Isabella’s POV The cold metal bars bit into my palms as I slammed them again and again, my voice hoarse. “What do you mean murder?!” I shouted at the officer standing on the other side. “I didn’t kill anyone! I didn’t do anything!” He didn’t even flinch. He just looked at me with that dead-eyed boredom cops wear when they’ve already decided who you are. “Yeah,” one of them said, smirking. “They all say that.” Another officer leaned on the desk, arms folded, chewing on a toothpick. “No criminal’s ever guilty, sweetheart. Everyone’s innocent, until the evidence says otherwise.” “I’m not a criminal!” My voice cracked. “I’m the victim! I was running from someone! Do you even hear me?” They ignored me. The first one chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s the pretty ones like you that make this job hard. If we hadn’t caught you red-handed, you’d have lied your way right out of it with that obvious pretty-girl privilege.” “Red-handed?” My stomach turned to ice. “What do you mean

Damien’s POV “It wasn’t who we thought.” The words landed like a fist. I forced myself to sit up straighter. The bandage at my shoulder tugged and screamed. Pain ate at me, but it was a background thing now. Fear and anger sat in front. “Who the fuck was it and why are you keeping me in suspense?” I asked, my voice low as I struggled to pull my shirt on. I shut my eyes at the friction against my shoulder, swallowed the pain, and kept going. “It was Mark. Mark Grayson sent them,” Jaxon said, his hand clenching so tight I could see the tendons stand out. He looked like he wanted to punch a wall. Or cry. Maybe both. Why does he always go soft when it’s about my sister? Him hugging her during that face-off with the thieves didn’t escape me. I saw every second. But now isn’t the time to pick at that…now it’s time to deal with Mark. The name hit like a cold slap. “When was that asshole released from jail?” I asked. My voice was flat and cold. “That’s the tricky part,” Jax

Damien’s POV “What did you just say?” I drawled, stepping forward with a smirk that was all teeth. One of the girls…ripped pantyhose, tattoos crawling up her arm like a challenge…popped her gum and didn’t even look bothered. Before she could say something else, the female officer’s voice cut through the silence. “Mr Voss, I must advise you to leave the station or we might have to arrest you. If you have any complaints, come back when the day is bright and when we’ve sorted out things on our own end.” I leaned so close to Jaxon that only he could hear. “Get those pretty sisters on a video. I want their faces.” My voice dropped to a whisper and something cold settled under my ribs as I turned back to the holding cell, ignoring the officer. I spoke to the women like a man playing with knives. I taunted them. I smiled and let the small cruelty roll off me. I leaned against a table causally, and let them fill the air with the kind of talk that made the room smell like gasoline

Jace’s POV I was running after Ariana when she stormed out of the room. Her heels slammed against the marble floor like gunshots. It wasn’t because I cared if she was okay. No. I’ve been yawning nonstop since their drama started last night. I just needed to tell her I was leaving. I’m leaving for Texas today. There’s no point pretending anymore, no point acting like there’s something deep between us when there isn’t. You want to know why I’m even here in the first place? Good. I’ll tell you. My mother. My cunning, manipulative, selfish mother. A week ago, she locked Jessie and me in a room for hours. Said she wouldn’t let us out until Jessie agreed to her new “proposal.” The days after we managed to get out of that room were pure hell. She hired men to kidnap Jessie…her own daughter…to force an operation on her. To remove the pregnancy. But each time, Kyle showed up and stopped them. That made Mother even angrier. So, I made a deal. I told her I’d

Damien’s POV The voice on the other end didn’t sound like a normal person’s voice. It sounded too fake. Too distorted. Like someone had swallowed gravel and spat the words through a dying speaker. The asshole must have used one of these voice altering devices. Ellie tapped my arm lightly, pointing toward the door to signal she was leaving. I gave a small nod and turned back to the window. “Damien,” the voice rasped, low and mocking. “You think you’re untouchable. But you’re not. I’ve got something that says otherwise.” Every muscle in my arm tensed. My grip on the phone turned white-knuckled. “Who the hell is this?” A slow, ugly chuckle drifted from the other end of the phone. “Names are boring. We have friends in low places, Mr. Voss. People who like to clean up messes for the right price. You think you can hide behind money? You think you can buy the truth? We can make holes in your life you won’t crawl out of.” The threats came now, one after the other, sour and