Chapter 3 The Devil's Claim

The moment Damien Wolfe’s words echoed through the auction hall, the entire room fell into stunned silence. “She’s mine.” No one dared to counter his claim. No one even lifted their numbered paddles. The auctioneer, a man who had spent years orchestrating these sales, looked frozen between fear and confusion. “Sir,” he started, voice hesitant, “there are formalities—” Damien’s gaze flicked to him, sharp as a blade. “Do I look like someone who follows formalities?” The air thickened with tension. Ivy felt Damien’s grip tighten around her wrist, his hold firm but not painful. She glanced up at him, trying to read the expression behind those cold, unreadable eyes. There was no amusement, no interest. Just calm, terrifying dominance. The auctioneer cleared his throat. “O-Of course, Mr. Wolfe.” He forced a laugh, his gaze darting around as if searching for help. None came. “If you wish to take her, then she’s yours.” Ivy barely had time to process what had just happened before Damien turned, dragging her along as he strode out of the hall without another word. The moment they stepped beyond the heavy iron doors of the auction house, a wave of cold air hit Ivy. She realized how suffocating the room had been, how the heat and tension had smothered her senses. But her relief was short-lived. Damien led her down a long, dark corridor, his pace unwavering. Two men flanked them, bodyguards clad in black, their presence suffocating in its own way. “Wait,” Ivy said, trying to plant her feet. “Where are you taking me?” Damien didn’t even glance at her. “You called my name, didn’t you?” Her breath caught. Yes, she had. Out of sheer desperation, she had called upon the most dangerous man in the country, thinking he would be her safest bet. Now she wasn’t so sure. They reached a heavy steel door, which one of the guards pushed open. Outside, a sleek black car awaited. Ivy barely had time to take in the sight before Damien pulled open the door and shoved her inside. The leather seats were cold against her bare arms. The scent of expensive cologne and leather filled the small space. The door slammed shut behind them. Silence. Ivy swallowed hard, watching as Damien adjusted the cuffs of his suit. His movements were slow, deliberate, like a predator taking his time. She exhaled sharply. “Are you going to kill me?” He finally turned his gaze on her. Dark, fathomless eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, she felt something crawl up her spine. Not fear. Not yet. Something worse. Curiosity. “I don’t kill people who beg for my attention,” he said flatly. Ivy’s nails dug into the seat beneath her. “I didn’t beg.” “You called my name in a room full of monsters,” Damien murmured. “That’s the same thing.” Her jaw clenched. She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him that she had no other choice, that she had only done it because it was her best chance at survival. But she knew better than to show weakness in front of a man like him. Instead, she straightened her spine and met his gaze head-on. “If you weren’t interested in buying a woman, why did you take me?” A ghost of a smirk flickered across his lips. “Because you amused me.” Ivy’s stomach twisted. He had saved her. But not out of kindness. Not out of any sense of morality. Just amusement. She turned toward the window, forcing herself to focus on the passing scenery. The city lights blurred as they sped down the empty roads. After a long silence, she spoke again. “What happens now?” Damien leaned back against the seat, his expression unreadable. “You wanted to be with me.” “That’s not—” “You called my name,” he repeated, cutting her off. “Now you belong to me.” The words sent an unexpected chill down Ivy’s spine. Belong? She refused to accept that. Ivy’s hands curled into fists. She had spent years building her independence, proving that she was capable, that she was strong. And now, she was being spoken about like some kind of possession. She wouldn’t allow it. She turned back to face him, her expression sharp. “Let me go.” Damien exhaled a quiet laugh. “I just claimed you in front of the entire underworld, Ivy. You think I can just let you go?” Her heart pounded. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Damien tilted his head, watching her like a wolf assessing its prey. “You can’t go back to your old life. Your name is gone. Your family has erased you. And now, every man in that auction house knows you’re mine.” His voice dipped lower. “If I let you go, they’ll come for you. And this time, I won’t be there to save you.” Ivy’s breath hitched. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She had made herself a target the moment she called his name. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Damien took her silence as acceptance. “Good,” he murmured. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. With a simple flick of his fingers, he sent a message. Seconds later, the car slowed as they pulled into the long driveway of a massive estate. Ivy’s eyes widened. The mansion loomed before them, dark and imposing, a fortress built for a king. High walls surrounded the property, and men patrolled the perimeter, armed and ready. This wasn’t just a home. It was a fortress. The driver stepped out, opening Damien’s door first. He got out without a word, his presence commanding even in the silent night air. The door beside Ivy swung open next, and one of Damien’s men gestured for her to exit. She hesitated. This was it. There would be no turning back once she stepped out of the car. But what choice did she have? With a deep breath, Ivy lifted her chin and stepped onto the stone pavement. Damien didn’t wait for her. He strode toward the entrance, the heavy wooden doors already being pushed open by his men. Ivy followed. The inside of the mansion was just as cold as the man who owned it. Dark marble floors. High ceilings. No personal touches. No warmth. Just power. Damien didn’t stop walking until they reached a large room—his office, judging by the massive desk at the center. He finally turned to face her. “You’ll stay here,” he said simply. Ivy crossed her arms. “And if I refuse?” He stepped closer, towering over her. “Then you’re free to leave.” Her breath caught. “Really?” “Sure,” he said smoothly. “Walk right out the door. But let me warn you—there’s a reason no one crosses me. The moment you leave my protection, you won’t last a day.” His meaning was clear. If she left, she would die. Ivy’s pulse hammered, but she refused to let him see her fear. Instead, she smirked. “Then I guess I’ll just have to make myself at home.” For the first time, something flickered in Damien’s gaze. Amusement. “Good,” he murmured. “Because you’re not leaving anytime soon.”