Caius POV :

I finished with my canvas and walking over to the sink in a corner of the room , I washed the blood off my hands . Well physically I did but, I knew I could never mentally removed the stain of crimson red, however many times I washed my hands and i didn't want to either.

I left my museum and went back upstairs into the main part of the house and then into my study where I had could check on Моя кукла-my doll . I could see her sitting at her desk, wiping at her eyes and instantly I was alert. I had missed something and I cursed myself . While I had been in my museum, having fun with my canvas and creating art , someone had done something to upset my doll and it obviously pained her because she was crying.

I sighed , a when dem aguh learn? Who the fuck mek she cry? A me alone fi do that. I smiled , mi nuh have a problem stillz  cause mi just get some new supply a weapon weh mi wah try out. Mi rewind the footage suh mi coulda si wah gwaan while mi did underground inna mi museum and listen.  Oh fuck! She a adopted ? Suh she anuh dem real daughta ?

Well, why was she crying? Was I missing something? because to me that was a good thing. When I take her , there will be no reason to cry for her parents because technically she didn't have any and on the bright side , she wasn't the only one who wasn't wanted . The only reason Ivan even accepted me as his son  was because he saw the opportunity to build a weapon he could control , not just a weapon but, a second version of himself and he succeeded , except for the part where I respected him or acknowledge him as my father , that didn't exists.

And my mother? Well , after she left me and came here to Jamaica I never saw or heard anything from her after that . My guess is that she was dead , most likely since she smoked heavily and was diagnosed with luckemia which is cancer of the blood before she left Russia. Ivan cared as much about her as he did someone who had no value to him , he merely used her for sex and he had told me on numerous occasions that I was a mistake , that I shouldn't have happened but, my mother whom he had referred to as "Ничтожная шлюха" (Nichtozhnaya shlyukha) translation worthless whore , saw an opportunity to gain money from him so instead of taking her birth control she had me .

It was a miracle she managed to hide her pregnancy from him because he had gotten rid of the other two that she had tried to hide from him before I came along,the stab wounds on her stomach was proof of that and he had pushed her down a flight of stairs for the second one and stepped in her stomach just to make certain. How did I know that? Ivan likes to inflict pain as I have stated before and part of his torture for me when I was younger,  was telling me every evil deed he had ever done to my mother and how he didn't regret a thing.

So while I was shocked at the news that my doll was adopted and the reason being due to the fact that she was a result of rape and wasn't wanted by her own biological mother ,  it didn't soften my heart even an inch, and it certainly didn't change my mind in going easy on her once she becomes mine . At least she had the luxury of tears , the first and last time I cried at 6 years old , Ivan had his men chained me to the roof of one of his many torture chambers, stark naked, the temperature of the room lowered to a  -30°C (-22°F) , I still didn't understand how I made it to morning.

I stared at the monitor,  studying her. Honestly what angered me at the moment was the fact that

her parents hovered like vultures, keeping her close, as if their love was suddenly enough to fix her now that she knew she wasn’t really theirs. And the police? Pathetic. Their presence was a joke. They had no idea that I  had already set my mark upon their daughter.

I leaned forward, fingers gripping the edge of my desk as my lips curled into something dark, something twisted. The mere thought of Bria believing, even for a second, that she had ever been wanted by the woman who birthed her made me laugh.

"You weren’t wanted, Bria. Not by her. Not by them. But by me?" My fingers drummed lazily against the desk, slow, rhythmic, possessive.

"You will always belong to me."

My muscles tensed. It had been days. Days. Since I  last been near her, breathed her in, invade her little safe sanctuary and made it my own .It wasn’t just the loss of control that drove me  mad, it was the distance. Bria had become a drug in my veins, and I was suffering withdrawal. I thrived off our daily secret interactions.

I could still smell her scent, something between vanilla and cinnamon and the way her skin felt, so soft , smooth like velvet. The little time I had had her that night , seemed to had done more damaged than good because, now I needed her physically, not watching her through a fucking screen.

She moved then, standing up, then started taking her clothes off to shower, oblivious to the fact that even now, in her sanctuary, she was being watched. Owned. My eyes trailed down the curve of her waist, the way she lifted her shirt  slowly, revealing her soft , untouched skin . The way how the material of the shorts she was wearing slide down the roundness of her ass .

My fingers twitched. Fuck.

I exhaled sharply, pushing back from the screen before I did something reckless, something desperate. Like breaking into her home and taking what rightfully belonged to me .

I wouldn’t though. Not yet.

But soon.

Very soon.

I rewind the feed again but, this time further and that's when I realised I had almost missed the best part of today. She had gotten a call back from UTEC and she had gotten in. No surprise there, she was smart academically that is and she hadn't been able to contain her excitement and truth be told, I found it oddly pleasing to watch her express her happiness.  The way how she smiled when she was told she got in , the way her eyes sparkled while she read through the acceptance email on her laptop and then the spark had died after she discovered the secret receipt of being unwanted.

But something concerned me .Kingston. She’d be moving to Kingston for university.My lips twitched.

Medicine.

That pleased me . More than it should have. It was a beautiful irony, my little lamb, studying a field dedicated to saving lives, while I had spent years mastering the art of ending them.

"Ты действительно создана для меня, куколка."

(You really were made for me, my doll.)

But then, a ripple of displeasure slithered through my veins.

Kingston meant distance. Not that I couldn't buy another house there.

I exhaled sharply, rolling my head back against the chair. Distance was an inconvenience, not an obstacle. It would be harder to slip into her world the way I had so seamlessly done before, harder to watch her in the flesh, to feel the intoxicating pulse of fear and confusion radiating from her whenever she sensed me near.

And yet....

A slow, wicked smirk stretched across my lips.

She would no longer be under her parents' watchful eyes. No police monitoring her home. No overprotective father checking her every move.

For the first time since I  had taken her and returned her, she would be truly vulnerable.

A sense of power curled inside me like a beast stirring from slumber.

I imagined her, alone in a new city, navigating her new world, oblivious to the fact that I would still be watching. Still owning her every move.

I  could already see it, Bria walking across campus, books clutched to her chest, her mind full of medicine and mortality, never knowing that she was under my gaze every second of every day.

Distance?

It was an illusion.

I would always have access to her.

And when the time was right?

Kingston would be nothing more than a temporary detour on the path that led straight back to me . I smiled in satisfaction, I actually had a reason to open that bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild (France) wine that I bought recently, this caused for a toast to my doll and the fun that layed ahead.