Chapter 7 The Rescue
Chapter 7
Mila's POV.
“Shh…”
The sound slipped out of his lips as his fingers yanked the sack off my head.
Light hit my eyes hard. I blinked and gasped, my throat burning. For a moment everything blurred, then his face sharpened in front of me.
D… Damien,” my voice broken, trembling like the rest of me.
What are you doing here?”
His jaw tightened. “That question is for another day”. The air smelled of iron and dust, I turned, and froze.
The two men who mocked me earlier, lay on the ground pale, lifeless, blood soaking in dirt beneath them.
I threw my hands over my mouth in shock, Damien, what…
He didn't answer me, instead, he looked at two large wolves in pack uniform standing beside a tree. Their fur caught the faint of moonlight.
Thanks for doing a brilliant job, I never doubt you though,” Damien said with a cold and flat tone.
To my shocking surprise, he pulled a brown envelope from his jacket and handed it over to them.
The two bulky wolves exchange quick glances before opening it. The crisp sound of the paper and money rustled as they counted. Their eyes brightened. Beaming with smiles.
“Appreciate the payment,” said the one with the thick beard. His voice was rough, heavy like granite. “ Do you need an escort to the border? Because even our ghosts won’t step foot in Stormfang again for the next ten moon cycles.”
My eyes flickered in surprise.
The other one laughed dryly, tucking the money into his back pocket. “What else do we need? This is enough to start over in a distant pack.”
Damien shook his head. “No, thanks. We are also taking the other route. Forever out of here.”
“Suit yourself,” the bearded one said, patting Damien on his back. “Nice doing business with you.”
I stood frozen, my eyes darting around watching them keenly. My mind couldn’t catch up to what was happening. The dead men, the exchange, the way David’s expression didn’t even twitch.
The two wolves climbed into their van. The engine growled , the headlights swept across the fields as it was getting dark.
The light flashed across the red stains on the dirt before disappearing into the night. When the last sound of their tires faded, silence fell hard.
Damien finally turned to me. Letting out a breath. His eyes softened wet when they met mine.
“Come on, Mila”, he said quietly, bending down to lift.
My legs were shaking too much to hold me. Damien carried me like something fragile, but gentle and steady. His heartbeat pressed against my rib cage, steady and calm.
He carried me into his van and set me on his seat. The smell of leather , gasoline , his faint body scent all mixed with pines, and smoke wrapped around my lungs.
“Have this.” Damien said, opening a small bottle of juice, “eat this too. You have lost too much energy.”
My finger trembled as I took it. The first sip of the juice stung my throat but woke me up a bit. Even though I could barely swallow a thin. My food pathway was dried and clumped.
The van rumbled as we drove away. Outside, it was getting dark. The sun which I had not set my eyes on, since this ordeal started was setting.Neither of us spoke for some time as the van moved along.
Only the sound of the tires bumping along the rough roads, my unsteady breath and Damien's quiet sigh filled the space between us.
I turned slightly towards him, my voice quiet as usual. “What have you done, Damien?”
He didn’t answer right away. His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.
“What does it look like I’ve done?” He said finally, eyes fixed on the road.
“Striking deals with rogues? Killing innocent people? You shouldn’t be here. You should’ve stayed out of this.”
He said nothing. The silence between us stretched like glass about to crack. His jaw worked as though he was fighting words back. I watched his grip become tightened around the steering wheel.
I swallowed hard, looking at his profile, the way his eyes darkened under the dim dashboard light, the way his lips pressed thin.
“Regardless of what happens to me,” I said softly, “it’s my fate. I chose this…”
The car screeched to a stop. My body jolted forward as his foot slammed the brake. We were right in front of his house.
My heart thudded so loudly it drowned everything else out.
“Damien…”
He turned suddenly, his hand grabbing my face, and before I could speak again, his mouth crashed into mine.
It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. Angry. His breath was hot, tasting faintly of the pancake we had just shared.
I froze. My body forgot how to move.
He pulled back slightly, eyes wild. “I will not let it happen,” he breathed. “Not when I’m still alive.”
“Damien…” My voice broke.
He didn’t let me finish. His lips met mine again, harder this time, as though he was trying to erase every word I could say.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. My hands pressed weakly against his chest, but he didn’t stop. I could feel every thump of his heart pounding through his shirt.
Something inside me shattered , fear, confusion, maybe both. My body trembled, but I didn’t push him away.
I don’t know how it happened next, whether it was exhaustion or loneliness clawing at me or I just needed the penetration in between my legs or the effect of selencium-9 on me. But I felt my resistance slipping. His hands roamed up my arms, tracing the bruises, the marks left by those wicked souls who had tied me.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, the words choking out of me. “Damien… please…”
He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my tears. Our eyes locked on each other.
“Shh.” His voice had softened. “Don’t say anything, queen.”
He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear as he bit it gently. “We all make mistakes.”
My breath hitched. I hated myself for how my body responded to his touch. For how weak I was, for how much I needed warmth , even if it came from someone I didn’t fully trust. But Damien was different.
The tattered gown fell away piece by piece, each sound of fabric tearing felt like another piece of me unraveling.
I stood there , trembling, half-naked , my skin marked with bruises and cold air brushing against his chest masked with heavy panting.
He turned me around, pressing me gently onto the seat, my face against the chair, my body bent forward. His hands gripped my hips, firm and shaking all at once.
When his fingers brushed against the side of my pants, I flinched, gasping.
“Damien…”
His breath came in ragged bursts. “You don’t understand, Mila,” he murmured softly into my right ear. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”
My heart twisted. The part of me that still remembered who he used to be , my friend, my work partner, the man who once dreamed of us being fated mates.
But another part knew better.
Because this wasn’t love. This was desperation wrapped in guilt.
I could feel tears streaking my face, mixing with the sweat and the taste of his skin. My mind screamed to stop, but my voice didn’t come.
Somewhere outside, a gust of wind slammed against the van window. And then…
A voice. Coupled with a beam of a torch which pierced through the side mirror.
Her voice, old, shaky, but sharp enough to slice through the fog in my head.
“Is that not cursed Mila?”
I froze.
Through the glass, the wrinkled face of an old woman peered in, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her shawl fluttered in the wind.
“What is she doing here?”
Damien's body
went rigid. My heart sank like a stone dropped into a bottomless pit.
And in that frozen second, shame wrapped around me tighter than any rope ever had.