Chapter 46: THE END DECISION

The note was like a loaded rifle resting in my lap.

**Lyra, you're engaging in risky behavior. Observe your back. **

Words clawed at my brain, each letter scribbled on the crumpled paper with harsh ink. The room around me appeared to contract as my pulse pounded in my ears. Like unseen hands, the chilly air pressed across my flesh.

Who sent this?

What about Victoria? No. Should she feel the need to threaten me, she would do it directly, relishing my anxiety like a good wine.

Among Damian's adversaries? Possibly. I was familiar enough with his world to know that the shadows extended well beyond my field of vision.

Or was it a former acquaintance—someone I had forgotten?

With unsteady breath, I balled the paper in my fist.

Only one individual could answer my questions.

Furthermore, he was observing me from the top of the steps.

Damian fixed his dark, inscrutable eyes on mine.

His voice was calm as he said, "You found it." Too serene.

We were silent for a long time, and it was thick with unspoken words.

My hands shaking, I stood and held up the note. "Have you heard about this?"

His mouth clenched. “No.”

I looked for the glimmer of a lie on his face, but he gave me none.

"So, who in hell sent it?" I demanded.

He exhaled deliberately and slowly. "That's what I will discover."

I shook my head. "You think I'll just sit here and wait?" Someone is threatening me, Damian, or warning me. And I have no idea who I should be terrified of anymore.

He became serious. "You're scared of *me*."

A quick breath escaped my lips.

I intended to say no. To reject it.

The fact was, though, I wasn't certain.

I had been saved by Damian. I was safe with him. He had *broken* me, though. And now the ground moved underfoot once more, right when I thought I understood him.

"I'm at a loss for what to believe," I said.

In a matter of seconds, he was across the gap between us, holding my chin firmly but gently, making me turn to face him. "Believe *me*."

It wrenched my heart. "I *wish* to."

I felt a chill go down my spine as his fingertip lightly touched my cheek. "Then, Lyra, do it. Select me. Absolutely. No more jogging.

I felt my throat constricted. "And if I am unable to?"

There was something primal flickering in his eyes. "Then leave right away."

I felt like I was punched in the gut by the words.

"Then leave now."

Might I?

Is it possible for me to ignore him, our past experiences, and all that we *could* be?

I gave him a serious look as well.

The man who had destroyed my entire universe. The man who *reassembled* it.

And I knew then and there.

I had already decided on something.

I raised my chin and spoke steadily. "I won't be going."

There was a flare of something ferocious and indestructible in his gaze.

With a possessive hold, he cupped the back of my neck and put his lips millimeters from mine. "Repeat that."

I swallowed forcefully. "I won't be going."

His mouth slammed into mine.

It was not kind. It was not supple.

A battle ensued. An assertion. An assurance.

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him in as I gasped against his lips. With a low growl in his throat, he anchored me against him with his hands moving down my waist.

I became a part of him, the fire, and the heat.

For *this*—this was real.

I had finished battling it.

As the kiss intensified, it became ravenous and urgent. His hands swept over my body, holding, controlling. He lifted me with ease, his tongue never leaving mine, as my back struck the edge of the desk.

“Damian—” My heart was racing as I breathed against his lips.

He spoke in a gruff, needy voice as his hands sank into my hips. "Lyra, you are mine." Express it.

"I'm—"

The moment was fractured by a thunderous *crash*.

With both of us rotating in the direction of the sound, we split apart.

the entrance.

They had just broken in.

All of Damian's muscles tensed up, like a predator poised to attack. His eyes darted to me, with a protective, gloomy look.

“Remain here.” His voice had a steely edge and was a command.

I was tired of being in the dark, though.

He started to move, but I caught him by the wrist. "No." We'll deal with this *together*.

His gaze met mine, a battle raging deep within them.

Then a beat later, he nodded slowly.

His grip was solid and unwavering as his fingers intertwined with mine.

And we entered the unknown together.

***

The silence in the hallway seemed uncanny.

Damian moved with deliberate precision, his senses keen, his body rigid. With my heart pounding, I trailed closely behind.

Then—movements. Deliberately slow.

There was a shadow on the dark floor.

With his deadly attitude, Damian shoved me behind him.

Then the trespasser moved forward.

My breath caught.

John Ashford

Dad.

His clothing were rumpled, and he had a tired look. His eyes, however, were what chilled me to the bone.

The man with whom I had grown up did not have those eyes.

They had to act quickly. cold. Unstable.

“Dad?” I hardly spoke louder than a whisper.

He didn't turn to face me.

Anger blazed in his eyes as he stared at Damian.

"You took everything away from me," he spit out in a raspy voice. "My cash. My enterprise. *daughter* of mine.

Damian remained unflinching. "That was something you did yourself."

John's face contorted with rage. “When I had the chance, I should have killed you.”

I took a gasp. "What are you discussing, Dad?"

He balled them into fists. "You don't think I'm aware of his actions? The lies? The deception? With a strange expression, he turned to face me. Lyra, you were *played* by him. As if he had played me.

Damian stepped forward, his physique a wall of restrained anger. You are the one that convinced me to buy her. Don't pretend to be the victim here.

John's cheeks turned red. "I fulfilled my obligation! But you— With a trembling finger, he gestured to Damian. "You destroyed me." You ensured my inability to heal.

Damian's voice was low and lethal. I told you. You didn't listen, either.

Tension was choking the room.

Next—

John drew his weapon.

Before I could even respond, he pointed it at Damian.

“No!” Before my head could catch up, my body began to move as I yelled.

My breath came in jagged gasps as I flung myself in front of Damian, arms out.

John's grasp shook as he paused. "Get moving, Lyra."

“No.” I spoke in a steely tone. "You're not acting in this way."

With stability and strength, Damian's hand coiled around my waist.

John's face collapsed as his chest quickly rose and fell. He fumbled with the trigger with his fingers.

Next—

The front door exploded.

Security guards with guns flooded the room.

John was forced to the ground and his rifle knocked away in a matter of seconds. He fought, his eyes burning with rage, and he cursed.

Damian's hold on me tightened as he let out a slow breath.

"That's it," he whispered.

One thing, though, was clear to me as I looked down at my father, broken, angry, and defeated.

And this was only the start.