Chapter 63 Lucas with the Bomb
Damian's POV
The following week felt... wrong.
Not because of work. Not because of the board meetings, the calls, the endless crisis clean-ups after eliminating Lazarus.
No.
It was Elena and Lucas.
Or rather-
Elena and the aftermath of Lucas seeing us kiss.
He'd barely looked at me since then. He'd been quiet, too calm... and something about the calm made every hair on the back of my neck stand upright.
Elena tried to act normal at work, but I saw the tension in her eyes.
Lucas stopped dropping by the office. Stopped texting her. Stopped calling.
Silence, when it came from a man like him, wasn't peace.
It was planning.
And he was planning something.
I could feel it.
Friday afternoon, the office was thinning out fast. People were rushing home, excited for their weekend. Rachael had been temporarily transferred to another branch, but she came by today because I needed her to retrieve a file-a contract she had drafted before she left.
She walked into my office with her usual warm smile, her ponytail bouncing lightly.
"Found it," she said, lifting the folder. "You owe me."
I chuckled. "Dinner?"
"Deal." She grinned.
It was comfortable with her. Easy. Soft.
The exact opposite of Elena.
But I wasn't stupid.
I knew I had feelings for both of them. Just... in different ways.
And sometimes, that scared me more than Lazarus ever did.
Rachael tapped her fingers against the folder. "Oh-your spare ID badge. I think you dropped it the last day I worked here. I put it in your glove compartment so you wouldn't lose it."
"Good. I'll get it later."
She shook her head. "I'm about to leave now, so I can grab it for you."
"Rachael, it's fine." I waved her off.
"No," she smiled softly. "Let me do this. For old time's sake."
Before I could argue, she was already walking toward the elevator.
I let her go.
It was just a badge.
Just a car.
Just a quiet Friday.
Nothing dangerous.
Nothing alarming.
Nothing that should have gone wrong.
Except-
Something did.
Something very, very wrong.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.
I glanced at the screen expecting a text.
Instead-
an incoming call from Rachael.
Strange. She never called when she was still in the building.
"Hey," I said casually as I answered.
But her voice...
Her voice wasn't casual.
"Damian... can you come outside?"
My breath stalled. "What's going on?"
"I-" she swallowed hard. "It's your car."
Every muscle in my body went rigid. "What about it?"
"I... it's probably nothing," she whispered, voice trembling. "But I saw something under it. I don't know what it is. It looks... wrong."
My heart dropped.
"What does it look like?" I asked sharply.
"Like... a small metal box? With a light. A red blinking light. It's... it's blinking really fast."
My blood froze.
"Rachael," I said slowly, forcing my voice not to crack, "step away from the car."
"But-"
"Now."
She inhaled shakily. "Okay... I'm stepping back."
I was already halfway down the staircase before the call even ended-shoving past anyone in my way, adrenaline crashing through me like a tidal wave.
A blinking device under my car.
Fast blinking light.
Metal casing.
Jesus Christ.
Lucas.
That calm, distant silence.
That look on his face when he caught me kissing Elena.
He wasn't stupid.
He wasn't emotional.
He was calculating.
And if he wanted to eliminate me...
He'd want it to look like an accident.
Car bomb.
It made perfect sense.
Too much sense.
I burst through the glass doors of the lobby and ran toward the underground parking lot. The echoing fluorescent lights above cast long shadows across the concrete.
Then I saw her.
Rachael stood several feet from my car, hugging herself, completely pale.
She spotted me and exhaled in relief.
"Damian," she whispered. "Shit, thank God."
My eyes instantly dropped to the ground beneath my car.
There it was.
A rectangular metallic device.
Wires.
A small LED blinking red.
Steady.
Fast.
Pulsing.
My rage was immediate and violent.
Lucas.
That bastard.
He tried to kill me.
He risked killing Rachael.
If she hadn't bent down to tie her shoe, she would have opened the car door without ever seeing the device.
The thought made bile rise in my throat.
"Come here," I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her even farther away.
She stumbled into my chest, shaking. "Damian... someone tried to-"
"I know," I cut her off. "I know."
Her voice cracked. "What if I didn't see it? What if it exploded?"
I swallowed hard. Harder than I ever had.
"Come here," I murmured, pulling her into a hug.
She clung to me immediately, burying her face in my shoulder.
I held her tighter, chest heaving.
She could have died.
Because of me.
Because of Elena.
Because of Lucas.
Because jealousy had turned into hatred.
"We're calling security," I said, pulling back. "Stay behind me. Don't go near anything. Don't touch anything. Don't panic. I've got you."
"O-okay," she whispered.
Her hand stayed in mine the entire time.
She refused to let go.
Part of me didn't want her to.
Two security officers rushed in. Then three more. Then the building supervisor.
They barricaded the area, scanned the device, and confirmed what I already knew:
"It's an explosive."
Rachael gasped. I tightened my grip on her hand.
The officer continued, "Not powerful enough to collapse the building, but strong enough to kill anyone close to the car."
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
My voice dropped into something dark. Something lethal.
"Whoever did this," I said quietly, "knew exactly where I park. Exactly which car I drive. Exactly when the lot is busy... and when it's empty."
The officer nodded grimly. "This was targeted."
"Yeah," I whispered. "I know."
Rachael looked up at me, eyes glossy. "Damian... who would want to kill you?"
I exhaled.
A slow, bitter, humorless sound.
I knew exactly who.
But before I could answer...
Elena appeared at the top of the ramp - eyes wide, breath unsteady, staring at the barricaded space and the security officers swarming around my car.
Her gaze shot to me.
Then to Rachael.
Then to our hands.
And her face shifted into something unreadable.
Fear.
Jealousy.
Shock.
Something else.
Something dangerous.
And as her eyes locked on mine, I knew:
This wasn't over.
Not even close.