Chapter 29 – Desperate Strike (Ivy’s POV)
Yeah, just when you thought you had me. Gotcha, you son of a bitch!
I drove the sharpened metal hard into Damian’s neck, my heart hammering in my chest. A wordless cry tore from my throat as warm blood spurted over my hand. Damian’s eyes went wide with shock and rage.
He bellowed in pain—a deep, guttural sound that hardly sounded human—and staggered back. My entire body trembled, adrenaline and terror surging through me. But I knew I had to finish it as I stared at him with disgust, my chest heaving, partly naked, except putting on my clothes wasn’t my priority right now.
It was him or me, and I had finally found an opening.
As he collapsed to one knee, clutching at the hairpin protruding from his neck, I lurched away, frantically scanning the dimly lit room for another weapon. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the scent of hot wax from the candles around us.
My vision blurred with tears of desperation and the throbbing ache in my skull. I couldn’t falter now. If he recovered, I was as good as dead.
My gaze landed on a heavy iron candle stand by the wall. Without hesitating, I lunged for it, nearly slipping on the polished wooden floor slicked by a smear of blood. My fingers closed around the cold metal. It was weighty, solid—enough to crush a skull if swung with enough force.
I spun around just in time to see Damian already struggling back to his feet. Blood streamed from the wound in his neck, staining the collar of his shirt and glistening down his chest. His lips pulled back in a snarl. Even wounded, the sheer hatred burning in his dark eyes made my stomach flip with fear.
A ragged gasp tore from me as Damian lunged forward, swiping at me with one arm. I stumbled back, raising the candlestick high. With a cry, I swung it at him with every ounce of strength I had left. The metal base connected with his shoulder with a dull thud. He grunted but barely flinched. Panic flared cold in my veins.
How was he still so strong?
I struck again, this time aiming for his head. He caught the candlestick mid-swing. The impact jarred my arms and nearly ripped the weapon from my hands.
“Fuck you, Ivy,” he growled, blood bubbling at his lips. His voice was a guttural rasp. We grappled for the makeshift mace, the muscles of his arms bulging as he ripped it from my grip with terrifying ease. I yelped as he flung it aside; it clattered to the marble floor with a clang that echoed through the hall.
Before I could dart away, Damian’s hand shot out and clamped around my throat. I choked, nails instinctively clawing at his iron grip. He lifted me until my toes barely scraped the floor. My lungs burned; black spots danced at the edges of my vision.
Still, I refused to give in. I swung my legs wildly, desperately trying to land a kick. My heel connected with his partly exposed crutch still pressed against the thick of his trousers. He roared in pain and fury, releasing me to clutch his dick.
I dropped to the ground, coughing and sucking in air. My throat throbbed where his fingers had bruised the skin. I crawled backward, my mind screaming for me to run. But I couldn’t leave it unfinished—if I didn’t kill him now, I would never get another chance.
Where the heck would I run to by the way?
The doors were locked and I was sure guards were in swarms out there, alongside them sick Elders and the priest, all turning this goddamn trespass into some fucking mating ritual.
Summoning a surge of courage, I scrambled to my feet and made a wild dash toward Damian. He was down on one knee again; one hand braced on the floor and the other pressed to the pin still embedded in his neck. His face was contorted in agony and anger.
“I’m a detective, you fuck!” I raised my foot and kicked him square in the chest with a desperate scream.
It was like kicking a brick wall. Pain shot up my leg from the impact, but the blow did topple him onto his back. Damian’s head smacked the floor. He let out a pained snarl, momentarily dazed.
I seized the opportunity and threw myself on top of him, fingers reaching for the handle of the hairpin. This was the only way to escape my kidnapper. If I could drive it deeper, maybe into an artery… My hands closed around the hilt, sticky with his blood. I started to push down with all my weight.
Suddenly, a feral growl ripped from Damian’s throat.
His eyes—those midnight black eyes—flared a vivid gold.
Oh God.
My heart seized. I knew that look, that awful glint of the beast within. Before I could react, his hand caught my wrist in an iron vise.
“Enough!” he snarled.
With a violent jerk of his arm, he flung me off of him as if I weighed nothing. I flew back, crashing into the edge of the heavy wooden table behind us. Pain exploded in the back of my skull as it collided with the sharp corner. A white flash burst behind my eyes. The room spun wildly around me. I collapsed onto the floor in a heap, a whimper escaping my lips. Warmth trickled down the back of my neck—blood, from the gash I could feel where I hit my head.
Dizziness overtook me. My vision swam as I tried to lift myself up on trembling arms. Across the room, I could just make out Damian’s form through my hazy sight. He was stumbling to his feet, the pin still lodged in his neck, his posture hunched and feral. A low, menacing growl emanated from him, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
I blinked, fighting to stay conscious. My head throbbed in agony. I tried to shuffle backward, instinct screaming at me to put distance between us, but my limbs felt leaden. I could do nothing but watch in disoriented terror as Damian easily slid the pin out of his neck and his form began to shudder and change in the flickering candlelight.
“I am the Alpha…” The voice wasn’t that of the Damian I knew. “I am your Alpha!”