Chapter 66 THAT NIGHT.
\~~~DAMIEN.
The first time I met Serena was the first time I felt such an urge within me since twenty years ago.
That alone should have terrified me.
I had spent most of my life learning how to silence that part of myself. Not kill it because it could never truly die, but lock it away, and starve it of permission. I learned control early and I learned restraint even earlier. What I never learned was what to do when something, no, someone, made the lock rattle.
Serena did that.
She didn’t try to. She didn’t even know and that was the worst part.
There is a version of me I keep leashed. Not another man and definitely not an alter ego people like to romanticize.
Just a part of me that exists when lines blur and rules feel optional. A part that takes when it wants and finishes things without asking. I rarely allow that version to breathe.
Serena has always been the trigger, right from when we first met.
That is why I pulled back. Why I stepped away when I should not have. Why I told myself again and again that the first time I met her was at the family event which I thought was easier and safer.
The truth is, I don’t like admitting that the first time I saw her was that night.
I don't like admitting that night was our true first meeting. It is easier to stick with the family event, the one where Ryan paraded her around like a prize.
That lie sits better, cleaner. The real start?
It is a memory I shove down, one laced with blood and shadows I never wanted her tangled in.
I stepped out of the closet, my sweatpants low on my hips, and there she was still frozen in place by the door. Her eyes were wide, locked on nothing, and her chest was rising and falling too fast. Fear clung to her like a second skin, and it twisted something in my gut. I moved closer, slow, but she flinched hard, her body jerking back like I'd raised a hand. I breathed out, stopping short, hands up to show I meant no harm.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, turning to face me fully. Her voice trembled, but she continued regardless. “What happened that night?”
I hesitated, the words sticking in my throat. The flashback pulled at me, unbidden at the thump of bass from the club spilling into the alley, the humid air thick with sweat and cheap perfume.
I wasn't supposed to be there. I had no business being anywhere near that celebration.
That's when I saw her. Serena, in that short black dress, dancing with lightheartedness, her laugh cutting through the noise. Bright, fierce, and alive. She didn't notice me then, and I liked it that way.
Later, as the night wore on, the group thinned and I watched her slip out alone, maybe heading back to her dorm, defiant and chatty even in her tipsy state.
But, that was it with vulnerable people. They always think they are safe.
She didn’t know she wasn’t.
I told myself to drive away.
I had one rule I lived by and it was to never interfere unless absolutely necessary.
That rule has kept me alive and it has kept others alive too.
But, I broke it that night.
Because Serena laughed at something one of them said, unaware it had been calculated. Because she didn’t see the way their hand brushed her arm to see if she would pull away. Because I saw where the night was going long before she did.
So, I drove away, but of course, I didn't get too far before I turned back, and then intervened.
My rule which was never to interfere unless absolutely necessary shattered at that moment. I'd lived by it for years. I had observe, protect from afar, and let the world spin without my hand on the wheel.
But Serena? She made me break it. Pulled me in, again and again, like gravity I couldn't fight.
The marriage had never been an impulse, and never desire alone. It had been a solution and a containment. A controlled environment. If she was with me, she would be safe from men like Ryan, from predators who hid behind charm, and from the worst parts of myself.
I looked at her again, and Serena was staring at me like she was trying to read between my silences.
“You keep stopping,” she said quietly. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I swallowed. “There are details you don’t need,” I replied. “And ones you are not ready for.”
Her jaw tightened. “You don’t get to decide that.”
I stepped back, giving her space. “Do you remember?” I asked instead. “That night?”
Her brows drew together and confusion flickered across her face, followed by something like unease.
“Y… you don’t remember?” I asked, disbelief slipping through.
There was no way anyone would forget that night. It had been gruesome for her. Not because of pain, but because of shock and fear.
Unless…
“I don’t,” she said. “I remember waking up at my dorm the next day. That is it. What the hell is going on?”
The words hit me like a blow to the chest.
She had lost the memory.
I stared at her, searching her face for a lie. There was none. Just confusion and fear.
My breath left me in a bitter exhale. I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back as the realization settled heavily in my bones.
Memory loss like that does not happen without a reason.
I had known she was shaken that night. I had known she had been in shock. But I had never imagined her mind would bury it completely.
For a moment, guilt rose sharp and unforgiving.
I looked at her now, my wife, standing in front of me, unknowing of how long she had been in my orbit.
“You were protected,” I said finally. “That is all you need to know.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That is not enough.”
I nodded once. “It will have to be. For now.”
Because if I told her everything…
If I told her what I had done for her that night, what lines I crossed, and what part of me I had let breathe, I wasn’t sure she would ever look at me the same again.
And I wasn’t sure I deserved that chance.