Chapter 40

Chapter 40
Chapter 40

Brenda's POV

The silence in my room was a living, breathing entity, suffocating me with its weight. It wasn't the peaceful kind of silence that brought comfort or rest, but a heavy, oppressive stillness that pressed down on my chest like a physical force. Every second ticked by with agonizing slowness, the clock's steady beat echoing through the room like a death knell.

I sat at the edge of the bed, my fingers gripping the soft fabric of the blanket as if it were the only thing anchoring me to reality. Two days had passed since the kidnapping and I almost lost my life, the fear coming back to life almost as if I am reliving it, the darkness, the torment and the unbearable pain, the memory trying to overwhelming me. I shook my head hoping the scenes replaying in my head would fall out. It has been two days since I had awakened in Damian's arms. My breath caught in my throat as the close up moment and how he rescued me flooded my mind. I could still feel the strength of his hold, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek, and the soft, husky timbre of his voice as he whispered my name like a prayer.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the memory. No, I wouldn't let myself get caught up in this. Damian Adams was a ruthless, cold, and calculating man who had locked me in a cage and broken me. He was not someone to be trusted or pitied.

But why, then, did that moment feel so real?

A soft knock on the door jolted me out of my thoughts. My body tensed instantly, and I called out a cautious, "Come in."

The door opened, and Damian stood in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room before locking onto mine. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with tension, as he stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. His gaze lingered on me, warm and searching, as if he genuinely cared about my answer. "A little," I replied finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once, his expression unreadable. "I brought something," he said, holding up a tray laden with steaming hot food.

The aroma wafted towards me, rich and savory, and my stomach betrayed me with a quiet growl. Heat rose to my cheeks as I looked away, trying to hide my embarrassment.

"I'm not hungry," I lied, my voice weak even to my own ears.

Damian's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. Instead, he placed the tray on the table beside the bed and turned to face me. "I didn't ask if you were hungry," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "You need to eat."

I frowned, irritation flickering to life within me. "I said I'm fine," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken words. Damian's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and concern.

"No, you're not," he said finally, his voice low and even. "You haven't been eating properly, and your body is still weak. The doctor said—"

"I don't care what the doctor said," I cut in, my voice rising.

Damian's eyes flashed with annoyance, but his voice remained calm. "And I don't care if you think you're fine. You're not. You need to eat, and you need to rest."

Something inside me snapped, and I lashed out, my voice venomous. "Why do you care?"

The question hung in the air, a challenge and a plea rolled into one. Damian's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes, a glimmer of emotion that was quickly extinguished.

"Because you almost died," he said, his voice low and rough.

The words hit me like a slap, leaving me breathless and reeling. I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest, as he took a step closer.

"You think I didn't see you?" he continued, his voice rising. "When I found you, you were unconscious, barely breathing, your pulse was weak... I thought..."

He stopped himself, his jaw clenched tight, but I had already heard the unspoken words. The fear, the uncertainty, the desperation.

My chest tightened, and I felt a strange, fluttery sensation in my stomach. "I'm okay now," I whispered, trying to reassure him.

Damian's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze burning with intensity. "Not yet," he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with tension. Then, slowly, I reached for the tray, my fingers brushing against his as I took the spoon from him, a small smile making way on my lips.

And for the first time since entering this mansion, I ate because someone wanted me to live.