Chapter 46 Nearly Caught

Chapter 46 Nearly Caught
Elena leaned against him weakly, and before he knew it, her knees buckled slightly. Without thinking, he scooped her up into his arms.

Elena didn’t protest. She simply curled into him, her head resting against his chest. Her breaths came slower now, calmer.

Damian carried her to the bed and lay her down gently. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at her, uncertain about what to do next. He should leave. He should just leave the room for her. But when she reached out and caught his wrist, whispering his name, he couldn’t.

“Stay,” she murmured. "Please?"
Her voice was soft, fragile, and desperate.

He hesitated only for a second before sitting beside her.

And then she shifted closer, her head resting against his chest again. Her fingers clung to his shirt as though she feared he’d disappear if she let go.

Her eyes were half-lidded now, exhaustion taking over. But her voice still trembled when she spoke.

“I miss my mother,” she whispered. “If she were here… she wouldn’t let him do this. She wouldn’t let him ruin my life.”

Damian felt his throat tighten. He looked down at her, at her tear-streaked face, the faint shimmer of her lashes. He wanted to say something. Anything. But the words wouldn’t come.

So he just placed a hand on her hair and gently stroked it.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “You need to rest.”

She didn’t answer, she just complied.

Within minutes, her breathing steadied. Her body relaxed completely against him.

She had fallen asleep.

Damian stayed still for a long moment, staring at her. His heart was beating faster than it should. He could smell the faint trace of her perfume, the warmth of her body pressed against his side.

He had seen death in the eye. But never something like this after his sister's death.

Something so pure, so dangerous, that it scared him more than any gun pointed at his head.

He leaned down slightly, his breath brushing against her hair.
“Why you?” he whispered. “Why does it have to be you?”

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to move. Carefully, he slid out from under her without waking her. He stood there, looking down at her sleeping form, peaceful now, her lips parted slightly, and her face softened.

He sighed, then bent down and lifted her gently into his arms.

He knew he couldn’t let her stay here. If anyone saw her in his bed, especially Victor, it would destroy everything. His cover. His revenge. Her safety. Everything.

As he carried her through the hallway, the mansion was so quiet.

He approached her room quietly — and that’s when he froze.

A figure was coming up the stairs.

Even in the dim light, he could see the outline clearly.

Caspian.

The man was smart and protective. And most of all, he clearly had feelings for Elena.

Damian’s mind raced. He couldn’t hide her in plain sight.

If Caspian saw her like this, in his arms, he’d put the pieces together. It would ruin everything.

Heck! Victor might fire him which would jeopardize everything he had worked hard for. Most importantly, what would become of Elena without him by her side? She would break completely.

Fuck!

He looked around quickly, the hallway stretched wide with no corners to hide in. Caspian was already climbing the final few steps.

Think, Damian. Fucking think!

He could turn back to his room, but the movement would draw attention. He could try to sneak into another corridor, but that would risk being spotted by Caspian instantly.

Damn!

And then... a voice sounded.

“Young Master Vodka!”

The soft voice echoed faintly across the dim hallway, freezing both men in place.

Damian’s arms instinctively tightened around Elena’s sleeping body. His heartbeat thundered in his chest as he pressed her closer, shielding her face against him.

In that very instant, Caspian, who had been climbing the stairs, half lost in thought, turned sharply toward the source of the voice.

“Who’s there?” Caspian asked, his tone calm but filled with authority.

The maid quickly bowed her head, holding a tray in her hands. “Forgive me, sir. Mr. Lancaster asked me to bring you this, warm tea, to help you sleep,” she said softly, stepping into the light so that he could see her.

Caspian sighed, slightly annoyed but not suspicious. “You should’ve left it downstairs,” he muttered, but he took the tray anyway.

“Yes, sir,” the maid murmured, bowing again before turning to leave.

Damian remained utterly still, watching from the shadowed end of the corridor. His sharp gaze didn’t leave Caspian’s figure until the man finally turned around and walked away, back to his room.

Only then did Damian exhale slowly, his muscles relaxing as relief washed through him. That was close... too close.

He looked down at the woman in his arms. Her face was soft, peaceful, completely unaware of the chaos her presence stirred in him.

A single lock of her hair brushed against his chin, and he swallowed hard, struggling to steady his breathing.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered under his breath, his voice rough with emotion he couldn’t name. "You can't become my weakness."

Quietly, he continued toward her room. With careful steps, he pushed the door open and entered. The faint glow of the moon illuminated her bed. He lowered her gently onto the bed, brushing away the last remnants of the dried tears that still clung to her cheeks.

For a brief second, he allowed himself to stare, really stare at her. Her lashes fluttered against her skin, and her lips were parted slightly as she breathed. Something in him stirred again.

Then... He leaned in, close enough to hear her breathing, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face.

Then he froze.

A voice in his head screamed Stop.

She was innocent. His mission was to take revenge on Victor. Not this.

He stood abruptly and turned away, walking back toward the door. He paused there, his hand on the handle.

“Sleep well, Elena,” he whispered, his voice heavy with restraint. “You have no idea what storm you’ve brought into my heart.”

He closed the door silently behind him.

Outside, the corridor was quiet again. Damian leaned against the wall for a moment, shutting his eyes as frustration rippled through him. He hated this. He hated that every time she cried, it broke him apart.

He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything for her.

But the truth was undeniable... he already did.