Chapter 16: CARING

***\-DAMIAN-***

When he entered the room, his eyes immediately fell on Celine. She lay there, pale, motionless, her blood-soaked clothes a macabre testament to what had happened. His expression did not change. No surprise, no panic, just that analytical look that took in everything, like a predator studying its next victim.

“What the hell have you done?“ he asked, and his voice had that cool sharpness that irritated me to no end every time.

“I...” The words stuck in my throat. How could I explain to him that I had no idea how it had come to this? That it had just happened, like a storm that broke out of nowhere and destroyed everything in its path?

“No time for excuses, Damian,” he cut me off, setting the case down. ”Either you help me or you get out of the way.”

His hands moved quickly and efficiently as he opened the case. The soft click of the lock was like a gunshot in the oppressive silence of the room. My eyes wandered to the tools and medicines inside – clean and tidy, but somehow menacing in their precision. They suited him. Cold, functional things for a cold, functional man.

“I bandaged them,” I murmured, my voice barely more than a whisper. ’But the blood won’t stop.”

“Of course it won’t,’ he scoffed, without looking at me. His fingers searched the case, pulling out sterile wipes, needles, and thread. ”You’re not a doctor, Damian. You’re a damn fool.”

I wanted to say something, to blame him, to yell at him, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I watched him as he bent over Celine. His hands were steady as he placed the cloths on her wounds, dabbing at the blood that kept spilling out. His movements were precise, almost mechanical. It was as if he had no emotions, no fear, no compassion.

But I was afraid. Damn it, I was so afraid that my heart was pounding as if it would jump out of my chest at any moment. I couldn’t stand still, so I started pacing the room, hands in my hair, while my thoughts spun like an endless vortex of guilt, anger, and despair.

“Why are you doing this at all?” I finally blurted out, unable to bear the tension any longer. ’Why are you helping me? You never...”

He raised his head, and his gaze cut through me like a sharp blade. ’Because she’s my sister, Damian. And I’m not a monster, no matter what you think of me.”

His words froze me. They were calm, quiet, but the severity in them made me flinch. A monster? No, he wasn’t. But he had often enough allowed the monsters to rage in our lives. I gritted my teeth, hung my head and stared at the floor, where Celine’s blood had formed a pool that was slowly drying.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I finally asked, without looking at him.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, there was only the soft hissing of needles and the clicking of tools as he continued his work. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was like a breath of frost. ”I hate what you’ve become.”

His words hit me harder than I had expected. I turned to him, my hands clenched into fists. “And whose fault is that, huh? You think I had a choice? You think I wanted to become like this?”

His eyes shot up at me, cold, calculating. “You always had a choice, Damian. You chose to become a goddamn psycho instead of getting help!”

“And you?” I shouted back, the anger exploding like a volcano. “What did you do, Jax? You just looked the other way when he...” My voice broke, my breathing growing heavy. “You were just as guilty as he was.”

He paused, his hands still over Celine’s body. For a moment, I saw something in his eyes, a darkness so similar to my own. But then he looked away and went back to his work. “It’s not about us,” he finally said, his voice calm again. “It’s about her. So shut up and let me work.”

The hours passed in a fog. I sat in the corner of the room, my hands clenched, watching him. Jax worked tirelessly, his forehead glistening with sweat, but his movements remained precise. He didn’t speak, and I had nothing more to say. All that mattered was that Celine survived.

And yet I couldn’t shake the shadow of our past. The images from that time kept popping into my head – the dull sound of footsteps in the hallway, the creaking of the door, the stifling feeling when the room filled with his presence. My mother, who knew exactly what was happening next to her bedroom, who was preparing dinner with relish in the kitchen, and Jax, who just watched, his arms folded, as if it were a chore.

Jax was in his element, I had to give him that. His hands moved with precision, the thread gliding with frightening ease through Celine’s pale skin as he sewed the last wound. The room was filled with the soft hiss of his movements and my own heavy breathing. The metallic smell of blood still hung in the air, thick and stifling, as I watched him.

His expression was impassive, almost bored, as if he had done it all a thousand times before. But then he spoke, and his words were like a dagger piercing my chest.

“Why did you do it, Damian?” His voice was calm, but underneath was something darker, an accusation that took me off guard. ”She’s our sister. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

I felt my hands clench into fists, my jaw tighten. My gaze drifted to Celine, who was still lying there motionless, her breathing shallow and weak. The words I wanted to say came with difficulty over my lips. “She didn’t listen to me... I wanted to protect her.”

Jax didn’t stop working. He pulled the thread tighter, cut the end, and finally raised his head, his eyes cold and piercing. ”From whom, Damian? From whom did you want to protect her, hmm?”

The air seemed to escape from the room, and for a moment I could hear nothing but the angry pounding of my own pulse. My head was a mess, my thoughts a storm. But finally it burst out of me before I could hold it back. “From you, you damned asshole!”

Jax froze, his hands hovering over Celine. Then he slowly straightened up and met my gaze. A smile spread across his lips, but it was anything but friendly. “Before me? What does that mean, Damian?” His voice was low and dangerous.

I laughed bitterly, although it burned like broken glass in my throat. “She doesn’t know, does she? She has no idea who you are. And yet you’re after her like a horny dog. You would have fucked her, wouldn’t you?”

His grin widened, and I hated him for it. “Better to fuck than this, right?” He pointed at Celine, whose body was wrapped in bandages. His tone was venomous, his words cut deep.

I took a step towards him, my muscles tensed, my breathing heavy. “Say that again, Jax. I swear I’ll break every damn bone in your body.”

But he didn’t back down. Instead, he pulled out the chair next to the bed and sat down as if he had all the time in the world. “You almost killed her, Damian. And you want to tell me that I’m the problem? Come on. We both know who’s really dangerous here.”

His words were oil on the fire inside me, and I could feel my temper breaking. “You’re not going to touch her. You’re not even going to go near her, understand?”

Jax leaned back, folded his arms across his chest and looked at me with an expression somewhere between amusement and contempt. “You know, Damian, what has always fascinated me? Your fucking protector complex. You really think you can save the world while destroying everything you touch.”

“Shut up!” I felt my voice echo in the confines of the room, but I didn’t care. ’You have no idea what I’ve been through. No damn idea.”

“Oh, believe me, I know better than you think.’ His eyes darkened, grew colder. ”But this? This is your fault, Damian. You wanted to protect her? Look at her. Does she look like you protected her?”

My hands were shaking, and I had to clench them into fists to keep them still. “I did everything I could,” I growled. But my words sounded hollow, even to my own ears.

Jax stood up, slowly, and reached for his suitcase. “I’ll take her with me,” he said, his voice suddenly calm but unyielding. “I can’t heal her wounds here.”

“Like hell you will!” I stepped forward, standing between him and Celine. ’She’s staying here. With me.”

He looked at me with a look that made the blood in my veins freeze. ’Damian, the wounds have to be tended to every day. Do you want to do that? With your shaky hands and your goddamn temper? Do you think she’ll survive that?”

His words were like a cold shower, but I didn’t let myself be deterred. “I won’t let her go with you. Not after everything you’ve done.”

He laughed, but this time it sounded bitter, almost tired. ”Damian, I’m the only one who can fix this. Like it or not, you have no choice.”

My heart was racing, and my eyes fell on Celine again. She was so pale, so vulnerable. My whole body screamed to protect her, but at that moment I felt helpless, at her mercy. Jax was right. I couldn’t heal her. But trusting him? That was almost as unthinkable.

“If you take her with you,” I finally whispered, my voice heavy with suppressed anger, ‘and something happens to her... I swear to you, Jax,’ I growled, my voice rough and dangerous. ”If you touch her... if you don’t keep your damn cock in your pants... you’re a dead man. I’ll torture you, I’ll torment you. Let. Her. Go. You know, Jax... Celine is my angel!”

He laughed. A cold, mocking laugh that hit me like a fist to the head. “She doesn’t look like an angel right now...” His eyes wandered to Celine, who was lying motionless on the bed, her pale skin covered by bandages. The words cut deep, and for a moment I thought I was losing my mind.

I grabbed him by the collar, pulled him closer to me so that our faces were only centimeters apart. My fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, my grip as tight as a vise. “You will tell her who you really are,” I hissed, my teeth clenched, breathing heavily.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t even twitch, but instead studied me with that unbearable look of superiority. “Do you really think she’ll come back here voluntarily, Damian? After everything that’s happened?”

My hands trembled, but I didn’t let him go. “If she doesn’t come back voluntarily,” I said softly, my voice vibrating with anger, “then I’ll get her back. No matter what it costs.”

His laughter echoed through the room, sharp and venomous. ”And then? What will you do then, Damian? Will you tie her up in your room? Like you did Samantha?”

My eyes narrowed and my grip tightened. “I didn’t kill Samantha,” I snarled, my voice like a low rumble vibrating through my chest. “You did that, Jax. You couldn’t stand that you couldn’t give her what she wanted. She came to me to get what she needed.”

A lopsided, repulsive grin spread across his lips. “Of course she did, Damian. Just like Celine. Just like she begged you to do that to her. Hmm?”

The room seemed to shake. My vision blurred for a moment, and all I felt was the rage boiling inside me like lava, about to erupt. I threw him against the wall, the sound of his back hitting it reverberating through the room.

“Say that again, Jax,” I snarled as I leaned over him, my hands still tight on his collar. ”Say that again.”

He gasped, but still laughed as he looked at me with that damned look. “What’s the matter, Damian? The truth hurts, doesn’t it? You think you’re the hero, the savior... but all you can do is destroy!

I let him go, but only to push him back so that he stumbled against the bed. My hands trembled with suppressed rage, my breathing heavy as I stared at him. “You know nothing, Jax. Nothing.”

He sat up slowly, his posture still outrageously casual, as if he was in control. ‘Oh, I know more than you think,’ he said softly.