Alright Ehma 💫 here's Chapter 20 of Possessed by the Devil's Son —
The city hummed with its usual rhythm, but for Elena, every sound felt sharper, every glance heavier. She had barely slept, Damian's words echoing in her head.
I won't let him take that from me.
She had always thought of Damian as safe, as gentle. But last night, something in his eyes unsettled her. It wasn't love—it was possession.
And possession, she realized, wasn't only Adrian's sin.
---
At class the next day, Damian was already waiting for her, sitting in the front row. The moment she stepped into the lecture hall, his gaze snapped to her, bright and unwavering.
"Elena," he called, patting the empty seat beside him.
Her stomach twisted. Usually, his attention warmed her. Today, it felt like a spotlight she couldn't escape.
"I saved this for you," he added, smiling.
She forced a polite nod and took the seat. His nearness was familiar, but there was a tension beneath it—a taut string threatening to snap.
Throughout the lecture, she felt his eyes on her more often than the professor's voice. Once, when she shifted uncomfortably, his hand brushed hers under the desk, his fingers curling slightly as if to claim. She froze, pretending to take notes, her heart hammering.
---
After class, Damian walked with her across campus. "I thought maybe we could grab lunch," he suggested, his tone casual but firm, as if refusal wasn't an option.
"I already have plans," she said quickly, though she didn't.
His smile faltered. "With him?"
She hesitated, and that was enough. His jaw tightened, though his voice remained light. "I see. He's keeping you busy, isn't he?"
Elena shifted uneasily. "Damian, please—"
"I'm not angry," he cut in, though his grip on his bag strap betrayed the lie. "I just don't want you to lose yourself, Elena. He's… not like us. He'll drag you into his darkness if you let him."
Her chest tightened. Not like us. The words felt ironic, because in that moment, Damian's smile seemed every bit as dangerous as Adrian's shadows.
---
That evening, Elena found Adrian waiting outside her apartment. He leaned against his car, dark suit immaculate, eyes glinting beneath the streetlamp.
"You look tired," he remarked, scanning her face.
"I had a long day," she muttered, brushing past him toward the building. But he caught her wrist, gently but firmly.
"Did he bother you again?" Adrian asked, his voice low.
She froze. "He didn't… bother me. Not exactly."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Not exactly is still too much."
Something in his tone made her heart flutter and ache all at once. He wasn't asking out of curiosity. He was asking because every part of him was coiled to protect—or destroy.
She pulled her wrist free. "I can handle Damian."
Adrian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "You don't have to. That's the point."
Her breath caught as his fingers brushed her cheek, tilting her face up. "Let me be the one to carry the darkness for you," he whispered.
Her resolve wavered. The memory of Damian's strained smile, his hand gripping hers under the desk, collided with Adrian's burning certainty.
And for the second time that day, she wondered if light was always safer than shadow.
---
Later that night, Damian called. She almost didn't answer, but the guilt of ignoring him won out.
"Elena," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I'm sorry if I scared you yesterday. I didn't mean to."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. "I know."
"I just… I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt," he continued. "You've always been precious to me, Elena. Even back then, I—" He stopped, as though catching himself. "Anyway. I only want what's best for you."
But beneath the sweetness, she felt it—the weight of expectation, the quiet insistence that what was "best" for her meant being with him.
"Damian…" she began, but he cut her off.
"You'll come to the café tomorrow, won't you? Just us."
It wasn't really a question.
Elena hesitated, torn between guilt and unease. "I'll try."
"Good," he said, his smile audible through the phone. "I'll be waiting."
When she hung up, her chest felt tight. Damian's voice was gentle, but there was a pressure beneath it—a force pushing her toward him whether she wanted it or not.
And as much as Adrian's darkness frightened her, Damian's light was beginning to feel suffocating.
---
When Adrian appeared in her apartment later that night, she wasn't surprised. He never knocked anymore.
"You spoke to him," Adrian said quietly, though not accusing.
Elena didn't deny it. "He just… wanted to talk."
Adrian studied her for a long moment, then stepped closer. His hand slid to the back of her neck, his thumb brushing the nape of her skin. The touch made her shiver.
"Do you see it yet?" he asked, voice like velvet wrapping around a blade. "Do you see what's behind his smile?"
Her throat tightened. "He's not like you."
"No," Adrian agreed, his eyes glinting. "He hides it better."
Before she could reply, his lips captured hers, fierce and claiming. Her breath hitched as his body pressed hers back against the wall, the world narrowing to his heat, his hunger, his unshakable certainty that she was his.
When he finally pulled back, her lips tingled, her body weak. His voice brushed her ear, a whisper both warning and promise.
"Light or shadow, Elena—you'll learn soon enough. But in the end, you'll still be mine."