Calla’s POV

"Put that box in the hallway," I said, pointing.

The mover looked at me, then at the giant staircase behind us. “You sure?”

“Yes,” I muttered. “I’ll move it later.”

He gave me a shrug and dropped the box beside my feet. I hated the sound. Everything in that box still smelled like my mom.

Behind me, the door creaked open again. More footsteps. Another box.

I looked up.

The Volkov estate was too big. Too quiet. Too cold.

I hated it already.

"You didn’t have to send people,” I said flatly.

He stood at the top of the stairs. Dark suit. Cold eyes. Same man from the wedding photos. Damien Volkov. My stepfather.

He didn’t come down. Didn’t open his arms. Just said, “You should’ve come sooner.”

“My mother just died.”

“She made poor choices.”

I blinked. “Wow. And you’re still as warm as a freezer.”

Damien didn’t reply. He just turned and walked away.

A new voice came from the side. “Well, well. Look who’s home.”

I turned fast.

Jace. My stepbrother.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed. One leg bent. Messy hair. Sharp jaw. The same smug face I remembered from pictures. But taller now. Meaner.

“Didn’t think he’d actually make you come,” he said.

“I didn’t come for him.”

He smirked. “Charity case looks different in black.”

I rolled my eyes. “Still a dick, I see.”

Jace chuckled. “Still got a mouth on you, princess.”

“Still got a punch waiting for you.”

He walked toward me, slow. “Try it. I wanna see if you’re still weak.”

“Touch me and I’ll break your fingers.”

He grinned wider. “I like you better in person.”

I shoved past him, ignoring the heat in my neck.

This was hell. I already knew.

One of the maids came over. She was pale, nervous.

“This way, miss.”

I followed her up the stairs. The movers didn’t come. I had to carry one box myself.

The hallway was long. Too long. Too quiet. Everything smelled of leather, glass, and cologne.

The maid opened a heavy wooden door.

“This is your room.”

I stepped inside.

The windows were there, but they were locked shut. The curtains were thick and stiff. A red camera blinked slowly in the corner.

“What’s with the camera?” I asked.

“Security,” she said quickly. “For your protection.”

“Right.”

I dropped the box on the bed and faced her.

“Why is it so cold in here?”

“It’s the master’s order. All guest rooms are kept locked and cooled.”

“Guest?” I raised an eyebrow. “I live here now.”

She gave a tight smile. “Dinner is at seven.”

Then she rushed out.

I sat down slowly, staring at the walls.

I hated it here.

Later that evening, I stepped into the dining room.

Damien. And Jace.

Jace didn’t stand when I walked in. Just stared at my dress.

“Sit,” Damien said.

“Good to see you too,” I mumbled.

I sat across from them, far down the table.

A maid placed soup in front of me. I didn’t touch it.

Jace leaned back in his chair, watching me like a movie. “So, what did you do back in the city? Model? Dance? Lie to rich men?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He chuckled. “Nah, I like when you say it with more feeling.”

“Enough,” Damien said, voice sharp.

Jace shut up—but not before winking at me.

I gripped the spoon tighter.

Damien’s eyes landed on me. “You’ll follow the rules here. No leaving the house without telling me. No locked doors. No short skirts.”

My head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

“I’m responsible for you now. I won’t have you drawing attention.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself since I was fifteen.”

“Not anymore.”

I pushed the bowl away. “You don’t own me.”

“No,” Damien said, sipping his wine, “but I’m the only thing standing between you and the men who do.”

My stomach dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer.

I looked at Jace.

He licked his spoon slowly. “He means this place isn’t just a house. You’ll figure it out.”

That night, I tried to sleep.

I couldn’t.

I lay in bed staring at the red light blinking in the corner.

What was this place?

I got up. Walked barefoot through the hallway. Every room looked locked. I passed a dark hallway and paused.

A light was on in Damien’s study.

I crept closer.

He was watching a screen.

I squinted.

It was me. In my room.

I stepped back. Hit the wall.

He turned.

We locked eyes.

I froze.

“You’re not allowed down here,” he said.

“You’re watching me.”

“For your safety.”

“You’re sick.”

He stood up slowly.

I turned to run—but Jace was suddenly there, behind me.

“How cute,” he said. “She found daddy spying.”

“Fuck off.”

Jace leaned close. Whispered in my ear, “We see everything, princess. Might wanna start behaving.”

I shoved him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You act like one.”

I turned just in time to catch him dragging his eyes down my body.

He gave a little whistle. “Didn’t know you had thighs like that.”

My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

He grinned like a wolf. “What? I’m just saying. Thick. Real thick.”

I stepped toward him. “Say that again.”

He raised his hands like he was innocent. “Relax, princess. It’s a compliment.”

“Don’t fucking talk about my body.”

He leaned in. “Then maybe don’t walk around with it bouncing in my face.”

I slapped him.

Or at least I tried.

He caught my wrist mid-air. Tight.

“You really think you scare me?” I hissed.

“No,” he said, eyes dark, voice calm. “But I think you’re starting to like being noticed.”

“Let me go.”

He did. Instantly. Like it was nothing.

I pushed past him and stormed off.

No one had hugged me at the funeral.

No one asked if I was okay.

Now I was locked in a mansion with two men who looked at me like I was meat.

I reached my room and slammed the door.

What the hell was going on in this house?.

Calla's POV

I woke up with a stiff neck.

My head hurt.

The red camera light was still blinking in the corner.

Creepy.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. Still had a few bars of signal. I opened the group chat.

CALLA: you guys. this house is so weird.

MAYA: what happened??

CALLA: doors are locked. windows too. staff keep staring at me like i’m a ghost

ZOE: i told you not to move in. rich men are weird

CALLA: stepbrother is a creep. stepdad is worse.

MAYA: need us to pull up?

I laughed a little. God, I missed them already.

CALLA: lol maybe. just give me a few days. i’ll figure it out

I dropped the phone on the bed and stretched. My T-shirt rode up over my hips. I didn’t care.

I headed out of the room barefoot.

The hallway was empty. I tried the next door. Locked. Next one too. And the next.

What the hell.

Downstairs, I passed by two guards standing near the front entrance. Suits, earpieces, guns under their jackets.

My stomach turned.

What kind of house needed armed guards inside?

I walked faster. Toward the kitchen.

And walked right into Jace.

He was leaning against the fridge, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair messy like he just rolled out of someone’s bed.

He looked me over once, slow.

"Morning, thighs."

I groaned. “Shut up.”

He pushed off the fridge, came closer. “You always this grumpy before breakfast?”

“I’m grumpy because it’s breakfast and you’re in it.”

He smirked. “Flirting already? Damn. You work fast.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a glass.

He took it from my hand.

“Hey—”

“Let me see your phone.”

“What?”

“Give me your phone.”

“No.”

He stepped closer. “It’s house rules.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not in charge.”

“Technically, no.” He smiled. “But I’m the only one who plays rough.”

“Back off, Jace.”

He reached into my back pocket, fast.

I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

But he grabbed my phone anyway.

“You—!”

I jumped at him, trying to snatch it back.

He caught my wrists, turned us, and slammed me up against the cold kitchen wall.

My breath caught.

His hand pinned mine above my head.

His body pressed into mine.

“Still wanna fight me?” he whispered.

I could barely think.

His body was hot.

I stared at him. Breathing hard.

He let go.

I stumbled back.

He tossed the phone into a drawer. “You won’t need it.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He just smiled and walked out.

I stood there, shaking.

My thighs were clenched so tight I felt the burn.

I hated him.

I hated how he made me feel.

Breakfast was in the dining room.

Damien sat at the head. A black shirt, sleeves rolled.

I came in and headed straight for the farthest seat.

“Come here,” he said.

“No.”

He stood. Pulled out the chair next to him.

My heart skipped.

“I said come here.”

I walked over slowly. Sat beside him.

He watched me like he was reading my thoughts.

“You’ve already broken three rules,” he said.

“Maybe you should write them down next time.”

“You’re not safe here.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t see anyone coming for me.”

His eyes sharpened. “You will.”

We ate in silence.

Scrambled eggs. Toast. Fruit.

I didn’t taste a thing.

Then—

BANG.

The door opened fast.

A tall man walked in. Dark suit. Red tie. Sharp cheekbones.

Damien stood immediately. His voice dropped cold. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

The man smiled. “Nice place you’ve got, Damien.”

I looked between them.

The man’s eyes landed on me.

And stayed.

“What do you want, Silas?” Damien said.

Silas didn’t answer. He looked me up and down, then turned to Damien.

“You keeping pets now?”

My stomach flipped.

“I said what do you want?” Damien asked again.

Silas walked over to the table. Picked up a grape. Rolled it between his fingers. Then looked back at me.

“You look like her,” he said quietly.

“Like who?” I asked.

He smiled. “Never mind.”

Damien moved in front of me. Blocked his view. “Out. Now.”

Silas didn’t argue. Just popped the grape into his mouth and walked out like he owned the place.

I stared after him.

“What the hell was that?” I asked.

Damien sat back down. “No one you need to worry about.”

“He looked at me like he knew me.”

“He didn’t.”

“Then why did he say—”

“Enough.”

I stood up. “I want my phone.”

“No.”

“I want to leave.”

He looked up at me, calm. “This is your home now.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’ll stay until I say otherwise.”

My chest tightened. My skin burned.

“Are you keeping me here?” I asked.

Damien didn’t answer.

I stormed out of the dining room.

Jace was leaning against the wall, of course.

“Enjoy breakfast?” he asked.

I didn’t speak.

He smirked.

“You like being watched, don’t you?”

I froze.

“What did you say?”

He stepped closer. “The way you looked when I pinned you? Don’t lie. You liked it.”

I shoved him. Hard. “Fuck you.”

“You’d cry my name if you ever did.”

I turned and ran upstairs.

Slamming my bedroom door. Pressing my back to it.

I didn’t cry.

"I need air," I said to the empty room.

I stared at the red blinking light in the corner. Same damn camera.

I pulled the blanket off and climbed out of bed.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Hot water hit my skin. I closed my eyes.

I thought about Jace.

His cocky smirk. His messy hair. The way his body pinned me to the wall.

Then Damien. His sharp jaw. Cold voice. Grey eyes like a storm.

They were both hot. Annoying. Dangerous.

"Ugh, shut up," I muttered and smacked my own forehead. "You're insane."

But my thighs clenched anyway.

I got dressed slowly. Tight black jeans. A black tank top. No bra.

I walked out of the room and down the hall.

Two guards stood by the front door.

I didn’t look at them.

I pushed the door open.

Cool air hit my skin. Finally.

I walked outside. Down the stone steps. Onto the grass.

I took a breath.

“Stop right there,” a voice called.

I didn’t stop.

A hand grabbed my arm. Another grabbed the other.

“Let go!”

“Miss Calla, you’re not allowed out alone.”

“Get your hands off me!”

They dragged me back toward the house.

I kicked. Screamed.

It was no use.

CALLA

“I told you not to break the rules.”

“They’re your rules, not mine.”

He turned toward me.

“You think you’re free here?”

“I’m not your prisoner.”

“You are until I say otherwise.”

I stood. “You can’t keep me here.”

“You walked out without telling anyone. We have enemies, Calla. You could’ve been taken.”

“Maybe that would’ve been better.”

He walked closer. Slowly. “You think they’d treat you better than I do?”

I said nothing.

“Fine. You want consequences?”

He nodded to the guard near the door. “Bring her to the office. She’s sitting through every meeting today.”

“What?”

“And she’ll read aloud. Every code, every name. You’ll learn what it means to be in this house.”

“You’re sick.”

“No,” he said calmly. “I’m in charge.”

The office was long.

Men sat around it, all in suits. Eyes on me.

I sat beside Damien. He handed me a thick binder.

“Start from page one.”

I opened it. Cartel names. Deals. Codewords.

My hands shook.

“Read,” he said.

I cleared my throat. “Section A. Shipment routes. Alpha 4 to Sector 12…”

My voice cracked.

Damien didn’t look at me.

He let me squirm.

My lips trembled as I read the names of people who’d probably been killed, places burned, deals made in blood.

Jace leaned against the wall in the back. Watching me. Smiling.

After the meeting, I stumbled out into the hall.

My head was spinning.

I turned a corner and slammed into someone.

Jace.

Of course.

“Easy,” he said, gripping my arms.

“Don’t touch me.”

He didn’t let go.

Instead, he slipped his fingers into my hair.

I froze.

His mouth brushed my ear.

“You really think you’re above us?” he whispered.

I swallowed hard.

“I hate you,” I said.

He smiled. “Good. That makes it more fun.”

He let go and walked off, hands in his pockets.

I stood there, heart racing.

I decided to turn around when I heard voices.

"You’re sure he’s not bluffing?" That was Damien’s voice.

I froze by the bedroom door.

Another voice answered, rough and deeper. “Silas doesn’t bluff. He wants land… or the girl.”

Silas?

I moved closer, careful not to make the floor creak.

“She's not part of any trade,” Damien said, sharp.

“You sure? He asked for her by name.”

There was a pause.

Then the sound of a glass shattering.

I jumped.

What the hell?

I backed away, heart pounding.

I couldn’t stay here.

I grabbed my backpack and stuffed in what I could. My wallet. A water bottle. The burner phone Jace hadn’t taken.

I opened the window—not locked this time.

I climbed out and dropped into the garden below. My legs stung from the landing.

I didn’t care.

I ran across the grass, toward the garage. I knew there were cars. Maybe one had keys inside. Maybe I could—

“Calla.”

I froze.

Jace.

He stood in front of the black SUV, one hand in his pocket, the other holding an apple.

He bit into it slowly, chewing like he had all the time in the world.

“I was wondering how long it’d take before you tried something stupid.”

I turned, ready to run, but he was faster.

His arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back.

“Let go of me!”

“No.”

“Jace—”

He pushed me up against the SUV, his body pressing into mine.

“You really thought you could escape me?” he said, voice low, rough.

“Get off me!” I shoved at him, but he didn’t move.

His hand slid down to grip my thigh.

“You want to run? Fine. But tell me first—why are your thighs clenching every time I touch you?”

“I’m not—”

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“You are. You like this. You’re just too proud to admit it.”

I opened my mouth to yell, to deny it—but he slid his fingers between my legs.

Right over the seam of my jeans.

I gasped.

“Shut up,” he said. “Let your body talk.”

His fingers rubbed slow. Pressed hard. Back and forth, right there.

I clutched his jacket, my hands shaking. I didn’t know if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his lips brushing my ear.

“N-No I’m not,” I lied.

He pushed harder.

My hips bucked without thinking.

“Keep lying, baby,” he growled. “But your pussy’s crying for me.”

“Mmmnh—ah—fuck—”

He popped my button open. My zipper came halfway down.

Then his hand slid inside. Warm fingers. Skin on skin.

“Jace—wait—”

His fingers slipped through my folds like he owned me. Two slid in deep.

I gasped. My back hit the car door.

“Still gonna pretend you don’t like this?” he growled.

I shook my head, breathless. “I—I hate you.”

“Then hate me while I make you cum.”

He curled his fingers inside me, thumb rubbing up top—right on that spot.

I moaned. “Ahh—ahhh—Jace—f-fuck—”

My knees shook.

“You like my fingers better, don’t you?”

His mouth went straight to my chest.

He sucked hard.

“Ah—ahhh—Jace—”

His tongue flicked my nipple through my bra. Then he pulled the cup down and took it into his mouth.

“Mmmhh—fuck—” I moaned, my head falling back.

“So soft,” he groaned. “These tits—fuck—made for me.”

He sucked harder, teeth grazing, tongue circling slow.

I was panting, legs wrapped around his waist, grinding without shame.

He moved them faster. Deeper. Rougher.

I couldn’t hold it.

“Mmmhh—ahh—ah—Jace—yes—yes—yes—”

It hit me hard. Fast. My whole body shuddered.

I bit my lip, trying to hold it in—but I cried out anyway.

“F-fuck! Jace!”

He didn’t stop until I was shaking.

Then he slowly pulled his hand out of my jeans—and brought his fingers to his mouth.

He sucked them clean, eyes locked on mine.

“You taste like fuckin’ sin,” he said, voice deep and raw.

I could barely breathe, legs jelly.

He scooped me up in his arms like I weighed nothing.

“Put me down,” I whispered, weak.

“No.” He pressed his mouth to my ear.

He carried me back to the house.

The door opened.

Damien stood there, arms crossed.

He saw me. My flushed face. My unzipped jeans. Jace’s hand on my thigh.

He didn’t speak.

Jace walked past him without blinking.

He already knew.

Jace didn’t flinch.

He carried me inside like I was already his.

And maybe I was.

God help me.