Bound To The Devil

Damien Volkov’s POV

They arrived at the estate, the heavy iron gates locking behind them. Luca was exhausted, his body slumping slightly against Damien as they stepped inside. His little brat had refused medical attention on the way back, brushing off the chaos with his usual sarcasm. But Damien knew—he was shaken.

Valarie followed a step behind them, her face unreadable, though the bruises on her jaw stood out like a brand. She had fought viciously, but in the end, she’d still been cornered.

Damien’s grip tightened. That wouldn’t happen again.

Then—

"PAPA!"

A small, dark-haired blur rushed at him from the hallway.

Ava.

She barreled into him, her little arms latching around his leg, shaking with barely concealed panic. "You were gone for so long!" she accused, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes.  Luca didn’t pick up his phone! I thought—"

Damien crouched, cupping her tiny face. "I’m here, kotyonok." His voice was low, steady. "I’m fine. We’re fine."

Her small hands gripped his jacket, her lower lip trembling.

Then, she looked past him—her eyes locking on Valarie.

"Aunt Val!"

She let go of Damien immediately, running to Valarie and latching onto her.

"You're hurt!" Ava's small hands grazed the bruises on Valarie's jaw, her voice turning fierce. "Who did it? I’ll bite them!"

Valarie let out a small laugh, despite everything. She knelt, ruffling Ava’s dark curls.

"You’re gonna take revenge for me, huh?"

Ava nodded firmly. "Papa always says we have to crush our enemies!"

Damien smirked, but Valarie gave him a pointed glare.

"Great parenting, Volkov," she muttered, standing.

Damien shrugged. "She learns fast."

Ava huffed dramatically, turning back to Valarie. "Was it Mikhail’s men?"

Valarie blinked in surprise. "How do you know that name?"

Ava crossed her arms. "Papa thinks I don’t listen, but I do."

Damien bit back a chuckle. Smart girl.

Valarie smiled slightly, brushing a hand over Ava’s cheek. "I’m okay, little warrior."

Ava looked suspicious but let it go—for now.

Then she turned to Luca, her little brows furrowing. " Luca, you look bad."

Luca, sprawled on the couch, lifted a lazy hand. "Rude. I was gonna say I’m as pretty as ever."

Ava giggled, but Damien’s attention was elsewhere.

He could feel it—Valarie was watching him.

And not in her usual way.

Her hazel eyes were sharp. Calculating.

Finally, she spoke.

"Sebastian Vasiliev."

Damien exhaled through his nose.

He knew this conversation was coming.

But now? When he was still high off blood and war?

"Yeah?" he murmured, tone casual.