Elowen's POV

I stood amidst the chaos of boxes and movers, my gaze drifting around my now-empty apartment. It had been my sanctuary, a haven where I could retreat from the chaos of the world outside. The familiar sight of my kitchen, with its well-loved pots and pans, brought a pang of nostalgia. It was here that I had spent countless hours experimenting with recipes, finding solace in the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the comforting aroma of simmering spices.

My gaze lingered on the window, a portal to the world beyond my four walls. It had been my favourite spot, a place where I could lose myself in the beauty of the sunset painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. Each evening, I would stand by the window, a silent observer of nature's masterpiece, finding peace in the transient beauty of the moment.

But now, as I watched the movers cart away my belongings, my once-beloved apartment felt foreign, its walls no longer offering the same sense of security. The memories that had once brought me comfort now felt bittersweet, a reminder of what I was leaving behind.

With a heavy heart, I realized that this was no longer my home. It was simply a shell, devoid of the warmth and familiarity that had once defined it.

As I took one last sweeping glance around my now-empty apartment, a voice interrupted my reverie. "Elowen, are you ready to leave?" The sound of Lysander's voice pulled me back to the present, and I turned to see him standing there, looking effortlessly handsome in just a shirt and slacks. His usually impeccable appearance was softened by the tousled state of his hair, a sight I rarely had the privilege of witnessing.

For a moment, I was struck dumb, my breath catching in my throat as butterflies danced in my stomach. Quickly regaining my composure, I nodded, reminding myself that he was my boss, nothing more. With a mental shake, I followed him out of the apartment, focusing on the task at hand.

As we made our way towards my car, a familiar voice shattered the relative calm of the moment. "Elowen!" The shrill tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I turned slowly, dreading what I would see. My heart sank as I laid eyes on my stepmother, her features contorted in a mask of hate.

Her perfectly coiffed hair and flawless makeup did little to disguise the ugliness that lay beneath. Suppressing a sigh, I braced myself for the confrontation that was sure to follow.

She regarded me with a sneer, her gaze piercing through me with icy intensity. "Do you really think you can escape just because you're moving?" she spat, her voice dripping with malice.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet her gaze, refusing to let her see the fear churning within me. "I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

But she wasn't about to let me off the hook so easily, her words like barbs aimed directly at my heart. "You are utterly worthless, Elowen," she continued, her voice rising with each word. "You deserve nothing, not a single penny, not a shred of kindness."

Each word cut deeper than the last, her cruelty a reminder of the years of emotional abuse I had endured at her hands. I fought to keep my composure, but the tears threatened to spill over, my resolve crumbling under the weight of her words.

"And don't think for a second that I don't know what happened on the night of the ball," she hissed, her voice laced with venom. "My daughter told me everything, how you treated her like dirt, like she was beneath you."

I shook my head, unable to believe her audacity, the lies rolling off her tongue like poison. But she pressed on, her words like daggers aimed at my self-worth. "She is everything you are not, Elowen," she continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "Beautiful, accomplished, worthy of love and admiration."

I glanced over at Lysander, ashamed he had to hear this, but his expression remained impassive, his silence a stark reminder of his indifference. I felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over me, the tears threatening to spill over as my stepmother's relentless onslaught continued.

"You are selfish, Elowen, and ungrateful," she continued, her voice rising with each word. "You should have given me extra money if you had it, instead of squandering it on your worthless self."

Her words struck a nerve, the guilt gnawing at my insides as she continued to berate me, her voice a relentless barrage of cruelty. "You owe me, Elowen," she spat, her eyes boring into mine with unbridled hatred. "For putting up with your pathetic presence ever since your father died."

I fought to keep my emotions in check, but the pain of her words cut deeper than any physical blow, leaving me feeling raw and exposed. But before I could even comprehend what was happening, Lysander, usually composed and collected, unleashed a wrath unlike anything I had ever witnessed before.

"Enough!" His voice reverberated around us, raw and full of fury, causing my stepmother to recoil in fear. "You fucking dare speak to her like that? Say that shit about her?!"

My stepmother's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, glaring at him. "And who are you to tell me what I can and can't say?"

"I'm someone who won't tolerate your abuse any longer," he replied, his tone ice-cold. "Elowen doesn't owe you anything. In fact, it's you who should be grateful she's even given you the time of day."

My stepmother took a step back, her bravado faltering. "How dare you—"

"How dare I?" Lysander interrupted, his voice rising. "How dare you? Elowen is worth more than you'll ever be. And if you ever so much as look at her the wrong way again, you'll regret it."

There was a dangerous glint in his eye, and I felt a chill run down my spine. This was a side of Lysander I had never seen before—unhinged, ruthless, and terrifyingly possessive.

"And just to make it clear," he continued, his voice deadly calm, "Elowen is mine. Ours. And it absolutely pisses me off to see someone treat her like this."

He took a step closer to my stepmother, his presence menacing. "If you even think about hurting her, I'll rip your eyes out. I'll destroy your life and everything you hold dear. Do you understand me?"

My stepmother's face paled, her bravado crumbling under the weight of his words. "I-I—"

Lysander didn't let her finish. "Do. You. Understand. Me?" he repeated, each word a hammer blow.

She nodded, trembling with fear. "Y-yes."

"Good," he said, stepping back and turning to me. He took my hand, his grip firm but gentle. "Let's go."

In that moment, I realized that Lysander's care for me went far beyond that of an employer - it was something primal, something possessive and all-consuming. And as I looked into his eyes, dark and dangerous, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude and relief wash over me, knowing that I had someone like him on my side, someone who would stop at nothing to keep me safe.

As my stepmother stumbled back, her face drained of colour, I found myself being led away from her by Lysander, his grip firm yet strangely reassuring on my wrist. He opened the door for me, guiding me to the waiting car, and I sank into the seat, my mind reeling from the intensity of the encounter.

The echo of Lysander's words lingered in my mind like an ominous refrain, his declaration of "She's mine" resonating with a potency that sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over me, a realization dawning that I had never truly seen this side of him before - a side that was both exhilarating and terrifying in its intensity.

As Lysander slipped into the driver's seat beside me, his hands gripping the steering wheel with a fierce determination, I stole a glance at him, the rage still etched on his features. It was a side of him I had never witnessed before, a raw, unbridled power that sent a shiver of apprehension coursing through me. In that moment, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear, wondering what other depths lay hidden beneath his composed exterior.

"W-what did you mean when you said that I'm yours...?"

My stammered question hung in the air, the tension thickening as Lysander's dark gaze bore into mine. His usual composed demeanour seemed miles away, replaced by a raw intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, the apology sounding almost foreign coming from him. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant to say."

The sense of rejection and sadness washed over me, threatening to overwhelm as I struggled to comprehend his words. But Lysander wasn't finished, his voice deep and gravelly as he continued, each word laden with a fervent conviction that left me reeling.

"You're ours, Elowen," he declared, the possessiveness in his tone sending a jolt of apprehension through me. "And we're going to make damn sure of it."

I blinked in disbelief, unable to fully grasp the weight of his words. What did he mean by "ours"? Before I could voice my confusion, Lysander's gaze bore into mine, the intensity sending a shiver down my spine.

"It means exactly what it means," he asserted, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "You belong to us, mind, body, and soul. You were born for us, as we were for you."

His words sent a chill down my spine, the glint in his eyes betraying a sense of unhinged determination that left me unsettled. I struggled to find my voice, the gravity of his declaration sinking in as I realized the depth of his conviction.

As he continued, a sense of foreboding settled over me, his possessive words resonating in the air like an unspoken vow. "Get used to it, Elowen," he murmured, the glint in his eyes growing more pronounced. "We don't plan on waiting too long."

"I don't under-"

"Let me make it simple for you. Our entire world revolves around you, Elowen. We breathe for you, we ache for you, we'd die for you. And if you ever try to leave, well... let's just say the consequences won't be pleasant."

As Lysander's words echoed in the confined space of the car, a chill settled over me, my heart hammering against my ribs. His declaration of ownership sent a shiver down my spine, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable.

With each word he spoke, the sense of foreboding deepened, his intensity bordering on madness as he painted a picture of their unwavering devotion. The realization dawned on me with chilling clarity - I was caught in the clutches of something far more sinister than I had ever imagined.

As I gazed into his eyes, I saw the same unhinged craze that had unsettled me in Zander's eyes, a shared madness that bound them together in a twisted web of possession. The tremors coursing through my body were a testament to the fear that gripped me, the knowledge that I was ensnared in a darkness from which there might be no escape.

With a heavy heart and a mind clouded with uncertainty, I braced myself for the tumultuous journey that lay ahead, knowing that the consequences of defiance would be anything but pleasant. For in the eyes of Lysander and his brothers, I was not just an employee - I was their possession, their obsession, their everything. And as their world revolved around me, I found myself teetering on the precipice of a reality where their desires knew no bounds, and my fate hung in the balance.

Despite the fear that gripped me, an unsettling realization took hold - perhaps the most dangerous part of it all was that, deep down, a part of me liked it. And in that dangerous attraction lay the seeds of my undoing, beckoning me further into the darkness with each passing moment.

However, I couldn't succumb to that part of me, the darkness. I had to fight it, and the brothers. I was no one's but mine, and I wouldn't be trapped again, not by them.