Bound To The Devil

Chapter 25

His grip tightened around the edge of the marble counter.

Luca belonged here. Like this. In his home. In his grasp. And if anyone dared to take this from him, he would drown the world in blood.

He watched, silent and predatory, as Ava tugged at Luca’s sleeve, beaming up at him with adoration. “Luca, look! I made a heart-shaped pancake!”

Luca laughed softly, ruffling her hair. “That’s perfect, Ava. You’re getting really good at this.”

Damien’s chest clenched.

He should be used to this—this all-consuming obsession, this unnatural hunger. But it was worse now, seeing Luca so effortlessly woven into this life, into his daughter’s affection, into his home like he had always been meant to be here. His cruel heart swelled with something unfamiliar, something dark and possessive.

A future flashed before his eyes.

Luca standing in this very kitchen, swollen with his child, cooking breakfast just like this. A toddler clinging to his leg, another cradled in his arms, and Ava beside him, calling him ‘mama’ with the same innocent joy she had now. Luca would be his in every way—body, soul, blood. His last name would be Luca Volkov, etched permanently into every document, every reality.

Ava’s laughter snapped him out of his thoughts. He smirked, approaching with slow, purposeful steps. Luca noticed him first, his body tensing ever so slightly, his fair skin dusted with flour.

“You want to eat?,” Luca murmured, avoiding his gaze, that shy, flustered expression only fueling Damien’s hunger.

Damien leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, his dark gaze sweeping over Luca’s face, then drifting lower, tracing the delicate curve of his neck. “ofcourse ,” he said smoothly, voice low, edged with something dangerous. “What are you making ?.”

Luca swallowed hard, but before he could respond, Ava beamed up at Damien. “Papa! Look, I’m cooking too!”

Damien’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second. He ruffled Ava’s dark curls, the gentleness in his touch a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him. “I see that, princess. You’re doing well.”

Luca looked away, his cheeks slightly pink, as if trying to hide how much Damien’s approval affected him.

Damien tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “What about you, moya lyubov?” he murmured, the Russian endearment slipping from his lips like silk. “Are you doing well?”

Luca hesitated, his breath catching, his fingers tightening around the spatula. “I… I suppose.”

Damien smirked, leaning in closer, his voice a deep whisper only for Luca to hear. “That’s not an answer.”

Luca shivered, eyes darting away. “I’m fine, Damien.”

“Mm.” Damien’s smirk widened. “We’ll see about that.”

Ava, oblivious to the tension between them, giggled. “Papa, help us cook!”

For a moment, the world narrowed to this—Luca, flushed and beautiful, Ava, innocent and happy, and Damien, standing at the precipice of something dangerous and consuming.

And for the first time in his life, he wanted it all.

Forever.

The kitchen smelled of butter and fresh bread, a stark contrast to the blood and gunpowder Damien was used to. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his bare chest, watching the scene before him with something almost foreign to his nature—contentment.

Luca stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, flipping pancakes with a grace that made Damien’s chest tighten. Beside him, Ava giggled, her little hands eagerly pressing down on cookie dough. She looked up at Luca like he was the sun, and for once, Damien understood the feeling.

With a smirk, he pushed off the doorway and strode in. “Move.”

Luca turned, startled. “What?”

“You’re making a mess,” Damien said gruffly, stepping beside him. He grabbed a knife and began slicing fruit with precise, practiced movements. It was a rare sight—the brutal king of the underworld assisting in the kitchen like a common man. Ava squealed in delight.

“You know how to cook?” Luca teased, raising an eyebrow.

Damien shot him a look. “I know how to survive.”

Ava clapped her hands. “Papa, make heart-shaped pancakes!”

Damien narrowed his eyes at the ridiculous request, but when Luca turned to hide a smile, something inside him gave way. With an exaggerated sigh, he reached for the batter and carefully shaped a lopsided heart on the pan. Ava squealed in delight, throwing her arms around him, and for the first time in years, Damien Volkov—ruthless, bloodstained, feared by all—let out a quiet chuckle.

***
From the hallway, a pair of furious eyes watched the scene unfold.

Natalya stood in the shadows, her face still swollen, a reminder of Damien’s unforgiving wrath. Her fingers curled into her dress, nails digging into her own skin. She had endured his cruelty, his indifference, his punishments. But this—this was unbearable.

He had never once looked at her like that.

Never once softened for her.

And that pathetic wretch, that little lawyer, was stealing everything she had fought to keep.

Her hatred curdled inside her, dark and venomous. If Damien wouldn’t punish Luca, she would. If she couldn’t have Damien, she would make sure no one else could.

A slow, cruel smile spread across her bruised lips.

Let the games begin.