Chapter 53 Chapter 53
DAMON'S POV
I left the breakfast room without looking back.
If I had stayed there one more second, I would have ripped Elijah apart. My hands were already shaking, and my chest felt too tight, as if something old and ugly had crawled out from the grave and wrapped itself around my ribs.
He had said her name.
Isabella...
The hallway blurred as I walked, and the walls felt too close. My footsteps echoed, quick and angry, because I could not slow down. I did not want to think. I did not want to remember. I had spent years burying that name so deep that even my nightmares struggled to find it. And now Elijah had pulled it out again like a rotten bone.
I reached my quarters and slammed the door so hard the wood groaned. The sound shook the shelves, and one of the books fell to the floor. I stared at it for a moment, breathing hard, trying to control myself, but the memory kept pushing its way in.
Isabella wasn’t supposed to die.
I had promised her. I had looked into her soft brown eyes and told her I would always keep her safe. I had held her hand the night she told me she loved me, and I had whispered the same words back, even though I had been too young and too stupid to know what protection really meant.
“Damn you, Elijah,” I muttered under my breath. “Why did you make me remember?”
I kicked the chair nearest to me, and it hit the wall hard. The leg snapped off, and splinters scattered across the floor, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing ever felt like enough when it came to her.
My chest kept tightening, and before I could stop myself, I grabbed the table and flipped it. It crashed upside down, and the sound echoed through the room like thunder. Papers flew everywhere, and a lantern rolled across the floor and shattered, spilling oil like blood.
I felt that old fire inside me—the hybrid fire, the vampire hunger, and the wolf rage. All three roared inside me at once. The same noise that had lived inside me the night Isabella died.
I pressed my hands against my face, dragging my nails across my skin in frustration. My heart felt like it was trying to break free from my chest, and my breath shook each time I tried to pull air in.
I hated feeling anything.
I had trained myself not to.
But remembering Isabella was like taking a blade to my own throat.
I stalked across the room and punched the wall so hard the wood cracked. Pain shot up my arm, but I welcomed it. Pain was easier than memories. Pain was easier than guilt.
“Why did you say her name?” I growled into the silence, imagining Elijah standing in front of me again. “Why did you force me to look at that night again?”
But it wasn’t Elijah’s face I saw when I closed my eyes.
It was Isabella’s.
That soft smile.
Those warm eyes.
That gentle voice calling my name even when I warned her to run.
“Damon… it’s okay. I know you won't hurt me.”
The memory stabbed through me.
I reached for the nearest thing—my mirror—and threw it. It shattered into a thousand pieces, and I watched my own reflection break apart on the floor. Good. I hated looking at myself anyway. I hated seeing him—the monster who had killed her.
I tried to breathe, tried to calm down, but the moment I closed my eyes again, I saw her falling. I saw her blood spilling across my hands. I felt the hunger taking over, felt the moment I lost control of the hybrid inside me.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I whispered to the empty room, my voice breaking against my will. “I tried. I swear I tried, Isabella.”
My hand slid down my face, and I felt something wet on my cheek. For a second, I thought it was blood. I almost hoped it was, but then I wiped it and felt the sting.
A tear.
I let out a short, broken laugh.
I couldn't remember the last time I shed a tear
I couldn't believe I was almost crying for someone who had been gone for years.
But I couldn’t stop it.
“Why did you stay that night?” I whispered, my voice shaking as I leaned back against the broken wall. “Why didn’t you run like I begged you to? Why did you smile at me when I was losing control? Why did you trust me that much?”
My chest tightened again, and I punched the wall a second time. A deeper crack formed, and blood smeared across the wood. My knuckles were split open, the wounds stinging sharply.
Good! I deserved to be hurt too!
Pain was easier than remembering the way she looked at me in the final seconds—shocked, hurt, and betrayed—as if she had never expected me to lose control.
As if she had never thought I was capable of killing her.
She had believed in me.
And I had proven her wrong with her blood on my mouth.
I walked to the corner of the room, where her ribbon still lay hidden under a wooden box. I hadn’t touched it in years. I had refused to. But now, my hands reached for it like something inside me needed proof she had been real.
It was a small blue ribbon.
The color she used to wear in her hair whenever she trained. She had given it to me when she thought I needed something to “remind me to act like I was human.”
I stared at it and felt my throat tighten again.
“You were the only thing that made me feel human,” I said softly, almost in a whisper. “And I killed you.”
My fingers clenched around the ribbon until it crumpled in my fist. I hated remembering. I hated the weakness that came with thinking about her. But the worst part wasn’t the memory of her death.
The worst part was the fear.
The fear that it could happen again.
The fear that I could see another girl look at me the same way Isabella had—as if I had betrayed her trust with my own teeth.
But this time, the girl was Anna.
And that was why I had made my decision. That was why I had stayed cold. That was why I kept telling myself she needed to die before her birthday. Before her powers came back. Before she became something unstoppable.
Tribids were not meant to live.
They had too much power inside one body.
Their minds cracked under the weight of it, and their instincts fought each other—the wolf, the vampire, the witch. No one could control all three. No one ever had.
That was why the royal bloodlines had hunted them down centuries ago. Tribids were walking disasters, and they had destroyed entire villages during the old wars. Their emotions controlled their power, and their power destroyed anything they felt strongly about.
And Anna…
Anna was the last one.
I paced across the floor, stepping over broken glass, stepping over torn papers, stepping over pieces of myself. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs as I moved, thinking of her.
Thinking of the stupid way she smiled.
Thinking of how she looked at me with trust.
Thinking of how she didn’t know what she was.
Thinking of how she laughed so freely, so easily.
Elijah was right.
I wasn’t always like this.
I wasn’t always heartless.
But I had to become heartless, because one mistake had cost me everything once, and I would not allow it to happen again.
I stopped walking and leaned forward, bracing my hands on the wall as I tried to stop the memories from dragging me deeper. My breath came out in sharp, heavy pulls. My vision blurred again, and I pressed my forehead to the cool wood.
“Why did you change me like this, Isabella?” I whispered, my voice breaking again. “Why did you make me love you so much that losing you ruined me?”
My fist hit the wall again, weaker this time.
I stayed there for a long moment, letting the silence swallow the sound of my breathing. My whole body felt heavy, and every part of me ached.
I didn’t even know how long I stood there until—
Knock. Knock.
I froze.
My breathing stopped.
I turned my head slowly toward the door. No one really visited my room except Elijah or Anna. No one dared knock after hearing the destruction from inside.
Who could that be?
The knock came again—soft, unsure, and almost nervous.
My heart thumped once, hard.
I walked toward the door, stepping over broken glass and smashed wood. My hand wrapped around the handle, still stained with blood, and I opened it slowly.
But when the door swung wide—
My heart skipped a beat.
Anna stood there.
Her eyes widened the moment she saw me—saw the blood on my hands, saw the cuts, saw the destruction behind me, and saw the wild look on my face.
She looked shocked.
And then she called out my name.
“Damon…?”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t speak.
And everything inside me immediately went silent.