Elena stood frozen as Damian's words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. His hand rested under her chin, his thumb grazing her skin with surprising gentleness for a man who just admitted to controlling every aspect of her life. Her heart thudded in her chest, torn between fear and a dangerous curiosity.
"This isn't love," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's… obsession, control. You don't even care what I want."
Damian's dark eyes bore into hers, his jaw tightening. "You think I don't care about you?" His voice was low, dangerous, a sharp edge to every word. "Elena, I know every detail about your life. Every smile, every tear, every time you've stayed up late reading until your eyes could barely stay open. I know you love cinnamon tea but hate coffee. I've watched you take care of your father when no one else bothered to help. I care more about you than anyone else ever could."
She shuddered, a chill running down her spine. "That's not love. Love isn't about control or manipulation."
His grip on her chin tightened slightly before he released her, stepping back as if to compose himself. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression darkening further.
"You think I want to control you because it's fun?" he snapped, his voice sharp. "You don't understand the world I live in, Elena. The wolves out there—they'd tear you apart without a second thought. You're too fragile, too pure for that world. Keeping you safe means keeping you close, even if it means you hate me for it."
Elena's fists clenched at her sides. "You can't use your world as an excuse to justify suffocating me."
Damian turned to her, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and desperation. "Suffocating you? Is that what you think this is? I've done everything to protect you, Elena. To shield you from the kind of people who would hurt you just to get to me."
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "You can't protect me from everything, Damian. And I can't live my life in a cage, even if it's made of gold."
His face twisted with frustration, but there was also a flicker of something softer in his gaze—pain, vulnerability. "I don't know how to let go, Elena. Don't ask me to. I've lived too many years in darkness. You're the only light I've ever known."
For a moment, his words cracked through her defenses, making her heart ache. But she forced herself to stay firm. "Light isn't meant to be trapped, Damian. It's meant to shine freely."
The room fell silent, the tension between them so thick it was almost suffocating. Damian's gaze softened ever so slightly, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"I don't know how to be what you need," he admitted, his voice raw. "But I know I can't lose you."
Elena's heart ached at the brokenness in his tone, but she refused to let her emotions dictate her actions. "You have to let me live my life, Damian. If you can't do that… this will never work."
He exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. "You don't get it, Elena. I don't just want you—I need you. You're the only thing keeping me from falling apart."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back. "Needing someone and loving them aren't the same thing. You have to figure out what you want, Damian. Because I can't keep living like this."
She turned away, her hands trembling as she moved toward the door. Damian watched her go, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
"Elena," he said, his voice low and almost pleading.
She paused, her back still to him.
"I'll give you space," he said finally, though the words sounded like they were being dragged out of him. "But don't ever think you can run from me. You're mine, little bird. No matter how far you fly, I'll always bring you back to me."
Her chest tightened at his words, but she didn't turn around. She opened the door and walked out, leaving Damian alone in the suffocating silence of his own obsession.
---
As the door clicked shut, Damian sank onto the couch, his head falling into his hands. For the first time in years, he felt powerless. Elena had slipped through his fingers, and the idea of losing her left a hollow ache in his chest.
Victor entered the room moments later, his expression wary as he took in Damian's uncharacteristic vulnerability.
"Sir, should I—"
"Leave," Damian growled, his voice cold and sharp.
Victor hesitated, then left without another word.
Damian sat in silence, his mind racing. He couldn't let Elena slip away—not when she was the only thing tethering him to any semblance of humanity. If she wanted space, he'd give it to her, but he'd never let her go. Not truly.
And deep down, he knew the only way to win her back was to find a way to make her love him, no matter what it took.