Time to Bleed Again 2

The Child of Damian 2
DAMIAN

I ran like a man with his chest split open, heart pounding flames through my veins. The park twisted around me trees bending, shadows bleeding into each other everything warped by panic. My boots slipped on wet grass and something else slicker, thicker. The air reeked of metal, blood, and gunpowder.

Bodies littered the ground. My men. The same ones who swore they’d protect Isabella. Their eyes stared up at nothing, mouths frozen in the shock of dying too fast.

A sound cut through the ringing in my ears a soft breath, broken. I turned, and there she was.

Isabella.

She lay half-turned on the ground, hair matted with dirt, her face too pale against the crimson bloom beneath her. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, stubborn rhythm proof that she was still fighting even when the world had already declared defeat. For a heartbeat, everything inside me stopped moving.

“Isabella,” I whispered, the name catching like glass in my throat.

I dropped to my knees, my palms sinking into damp soil beside her. Her skin was warm. That warmth saved me it anchored me to this moment, to the reality that she was here, alive, not a ghost like I’d feared for years. My fingers brushed the side of her neck, feeling the weak pulse flutter against my touch. She still breathed. She still belonged to me.

Her lips were parted slightly, dusted with blood. I wiped them clean with my thumb, slow, reverent, as if I could erase what had been done to her. I pressed my forehead against hers for a second long enough to borrow her strength and leave a promise in return.

“I’m here,” I murmured. “And I’m not leaving without her.”

I lifted her from the ground, her body limp but warm, light in my arms like something I could still fix if I moved fast enough. Every step toward the car felt like walking through fire. Richard was already there, wide-eyed, gripping the steering wheel like it might save him from my rage.

“Drive,” I ordered, my voice low but dangerous, the kind that left no room for hesitation.

He slammed the accelerator. Tires screeched. The park lights blurred into streaks of white and gold. I held Isabella close, her head resting on my shoulder, my jaw locked against the scream building in my chest.

I pulled out my phone with my free hand, thumb trembling but steady enough to hit the number. The line clicked.

“Where are they?” I didn’t let him speak first. I didn’t need niceties I needed blood.

Antonio’s voice came through, rough, winded. “They’re at Greco’s hideout,” he said. “I’m sending the coordinates now.”

My pulse hammered louder than the car’s engine. I knew that place. Every corner of it was designed to hold and break a fortress and a cage.

I glanced at Isabella, her head turned toward the window, lashes trembling even in unconsciousness. For a split second, I let myself imagine something impossible her waking up to sunlight, Julian’s laughter filling the kitchen, her smile when she realized we were free. Curtains swaying, peace lingering like the scent of rain.

Then the phone buzzed. The coordinates glared up at me, cruel and cold.

Valentina’s face flashed in my mind the smirk that never reached her eyes, the way she touched her gun like it was a prayer. I could almost see her holding my daughter, could almost hear Julian’s cries echoing in some dark corner while Valentina smiled.

I picked up my gun from the floorboard, feeling its weight settle in my hand like an oath. Cold. Heavy. I chambered a round and let the sound fill the car sharp, final.

“Tonight,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. The men in the car fell silent. “Tonight, we end this.”

The words tasted like iron. Not a vow a sentence.

And somewhere out there, Valentina was waiting.

But she’d made one mistake.

She’d taken my daughter.

And now the devil she wanted was already on his way.



AUTHOR’S NOTE

Hey loves 💛

If you’ve made it this far, thank you truly. Writing this story has been an emotional ride for me, filled with late nights, too much coffee, and scenes that pulled at my heart in unexpected ways. Knowing you’re here, turning each page and feeling with these characters, means more than words can describe.

I’d love to hear your thoughts the parts that made you hold your breath, the moments that broke you, and even the ones that made you yell, “Why did you do that?!” (I do it too when I reread, trust me 😂). Your comments and reactions remind me that stories aren’t just written they’re shared, lived, and felt together.

So, don’t be shy tell me what you think! Drop your theories, your favorite moments, or even who you’re secretly rooting for. I’m always reading, smiling, and appreciating every single one of you who’s joined me on this journey.

Thank you for being here for the support, the love, and the patience. You make this world of words worth building. ❤️❤️❤️