The biker’s captive bride

Chapter5. Dawn

The shower left Gwen’s skin damp and prickling, as though her body itself was trembling in anticipation of something unknown. She wrapped herself in the oversized black T-shirt the maid had given her, paired with soft sweatpants that clung to her hips. She didn’t know whose clothes they belonged to, but the masculine scent clinging to the fabric unnerved her, it smelled faintly of leather, smoke, and some expensive cologne. Maybe it was his. Maybe Damien had meant for her to wear this, a subtle reminder that her body was already claimed.

The maid had laid out a tray of steaming food, grilled chicken, rice, vegetables, and a glass of red wine. Gwen’s stomach, however, churned with unease. She managed to force down a few bites, but the food sat heavy, almost sour. The fear eating her alive left no room for nourishment.

Her mind was restless. Questions gnawed at her: Why her? What did Damien really want? Was he truly going to destroy her because of Marcus?

One truth settled painfully clear, her brother was the spark behind this nightmare. Marcus, the reckless gambler, the selfish traitor who always managed to drag her into his shadows. Gwen pressed her fists against her thighs, trembling. He had to be behind this. He’d caused trouble before, but this… this was her life on the line.

She stood and drifted toward the massive window of the penthouse. Beyond the glass stretched the darkened sprawl of the city, neon lights blinking against the night sky. The mansion itself seemed like a fortress, high walls and shadowy figures patrolling below. She pressed her palm to the cold windowpane, her throat tightening.

That was when the door opened.

Her body snapped around so fast it hurt.

Damien stepped inside, silent as a storm. His presence filled the room before a single word was spoken. His dark hair was tousled, his shirt clinging to his broad chest as though he’d just come back from riding through the night. His jaw was sharp, his gaze deadly. And yet, damn him, he was breathtaking. His eyes roamed over her and it lingered on the shirt she was wearing.

Her breath hitched. Monster, she reminded herself. He’s a monster. Don’t let his face fool you.

“How are you?” His voice was deep, steady, commanding.

She couldn’t bring herself to answer. Her tongue felt like lead, her body taut like a bowstring. She managed only a weak nod.

He closed the space between them in deliberate steps, and Gwen instinctively moved backward, her heels tapping the floor.

When her back hit the wall, his shadow towered over her. He reached up, brushing his knuckles along her cheek, his touch burning against her skin. Her heart nearly burst from her chest.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said, his tone deceptively calm. “I won’t kill you.”

Relief almost escaped her lips, but it died when he leaned closer, his mouth grazing her ear.

“I’ll do other things.”

Her breath caught audibly, a sharp gasp that betrayed her terror. He smirked, clearly hearing it, savoring it. His eyes roamed over her, drinking her in like something rare and forbidden.

“You’re… breathtaking,” he murmured, his lips twisting as though the admission annoyed him.

Then he straightened, and with the coldness of a judge delivering a sentence, he said words that shattered the air around her:

“We wed by dawn.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Gwen blinked, stunned, her chest rising and falling like a caged bird fighting for air.

“What?” Her voice cracked.

“You heard me,” Damien said smoothly. “By dawn, you’ll be my wife. I don’t take what’s not mine. I honor it first. That way, the world knows—you’re mine to ruin, mine to keep.”

Her knees nearly buckled. Her fingers curled into her palms, nails digging into her skin. Married? To him?

“I—I can’t—” she stammered, but he didn’t wait for her protests.

“The maid will prepare you,” Damien continued, stepping away as though the matter was settled. “At dawn, you’ll wear white, and you’ll walk to me.”

And with that, he left, shutting the door with finality.

The pounding of Gwen’s heartbeat filled the silence. Her pulse thundered in her ears until her body felt faint.

“No…” she whispered, pacing the room, wringing her hands. “No, I can’t—this can’t be happening…”

Her mind raced with frantic possibilities. Once he wedded her, once he bound her to him, there would be no escape. Not only her body, but her life would be chained to this man.

Yes, she didn’t love Liam. Yes, she never wanted to marry him. But Damien? Damien looked like someone who would destroy her piece by piece, just because he could.

Her eyes darted toward the hallway. Now. While he’s not watching.

With trembling steps, she eased the door open and peered out. The corridor was empty. Her heart leapt into her throat as she slipped out, padding silently down the hall.

The mansion was vast, every corner shadowed, every stairway looming like a trap. Gwen moved quickly but cautiously, her bare feet silent against the marble floors.

When she reached the ground level, she bolted, running through the vast compound until she reached the edge of the courtyard. A massive tree stood near the gate, its dark trunk wide enough to shield her. She pressed against it, panting.

Her heart hammered so violently she thought it might explode. Maybe, just maybe, she could escape.

Then a voice rumbled behind her.

“Trying to run, miss?”

She spun, terror gripping her. A tall, broad shouldered man stood in the shadows, his expression cold and unreadable. His presence was as terrifying as Damien’s, if not more.

“Our boss won’t like this,” the man said evenly, his voice carrying authority. “You don’t escape him. No one does. If you try, he’ll hunt you down and you won’t like what happens then.”

Her stomach twisted painfully.

“Please…” she whispered, but her plea crumbled in her throat.

The man tilted his head, almost pitying. “Come. Let’s get you back upstairs before he finds out.”

Every ounce of her wanted to fight, to scream, to demand her freedom. But something in his gaze told her resistance was useless. This was Damien’s world. His rules. His cage.

Her shoulders sagged in defeat, her pulse heavy in her veins. She followed the man back inside, each step dragging her deeper into the darkness of her fate.

Maybe I should accept it, she thought bitterly. Maybe there is no escape from Damien.

And yet, deep down, her spirit clawed against the truth. If she was to survive this man, this monster, she’d need more than fear. She’d need cunning.

But for now… she was his captive bride, awaiting dawn. F*ck!