Chapter 18 Chapter 18
The tension between Damien and me had been building for days, stretching thin like a wire about to snap. Every glance, every word exchanged, felt like a challenge, a test of how far I was willing to follow him into the dark. But after everything—the violence, Claudia’s cryptic warning, the war that was spiraling out of control—I couldn’t keep quiet any longer.
I found him in the study, leaning over a map spread across the desk. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing forearms streaked with faint scars and fresh bruises. There was a calm efficiency to his movements, but his eyes betrayed him. They were bloodshot, tired, and heavy with something I couldn’t quite name.
“Damien,” I said, stepping into the room. My voice was steady, but my heart was pounding.
He didn’t look up. “Not now, Lisa.”
“Yes, now,” I snapped, surprising even myself. I crossed the room, stopping just short of the desk. “I’m tired of being left in the dark. I deserve to know what’s really going on between you and Victor. All of it.”
That got his attention. He straightened slowly, his gaze locking onto mine. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. The silence between us was suffocating, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on my chest.
“Why does it matter?” he asked finally, his voice cold.
“Because I’m in the middle of it,” I shot back. “Whether I want to be or not. You’ve dragged me into your war, Damien. Don’t I at least deserve to know why?”
He stared at me, his jaw tight, his hands gripping the edge of the desk like he was trying to anchor himself. For a moment, I thought he was going to shut me out again, to brush me off like he always did. But then something shifted in his expression—a crack in the armor he wore so carefully.
“Fine,” he said, his voice low. “You want the truth? I’ll give it to you.”
He turned away, walking to the window. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the tension in his shoulders.
“Victor and I used to be… close,” he began, his tone bitter. “Not friends, exactly. But we worked together. Trusted each other.” He let out a humorless laugh. “At least, I thought I could trust him.”
“What happened?” I asked softly.
He hesitated, his gaze fixed on something far beyond the glass. “We built something together—an empire. But Victor wanted more. He always wanted more. He went behind my back, made deals that put everything we’d built at risk. I confronted him about it, and he…” His voice trailed off, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable.
“What did he do?” I pressed.
Damien’s jaw clenched, and when he spoke again, his voice was tight with barely restrained anger. “He betrayed me. Set me up to take the fall for one of his deals gone wrong. I lost everything—my crew, my reputation. I barely made it out alive.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “And now you’re trying to destroy him,” I said, more to myself than to him.
He turned to face me, his eyes blazing. “You think I want this?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “You think I enjoy tearing the city apart just to get to him? I didn’t start this, Lisa. But I’m damn sure going to finish it.”
The weight of his words settled over me like a heavy fog. I wanted to hate him for what he was doing, for the lives he was destroying in the name of revenge. But now, hearing the pain in his voice, the raw emotion he tried so hard to hide, I couldn’t bring myself to.
“Why involve me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why not just let me go?”
For the first time, Damien looked uncertain. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Because letting you go would have been worse,” he admitted. “You saw too much. Victor would have come after you, used you against me. Keeping you here was the only way to protect you.”
I shook my head, my throat tightening. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Damien. You don’t get to trap me in your world and call it protection.”
His gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked almost… human. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry. I never wanted this for you. But it’s too late to change that now.”
The conversation ended there, leaving me with more questions than answers. I left the study feeling raw, my emotions tangled in knots. I didn’t know what to make of Damien’s confession. Part of me felt for him, for the pain and betrayal he’d endured. But another part of me couldn’t ignore the destruction he was leaving in his wake.
I wandered the halls aimlessly, trying to clear my head. The mansion was eerily quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. Even the staff seemed on edge, their movements hurried and subdued.
As I passed by the kitchen, I heard muffled voices coming from the back door. Curious, I stepped closer, peering through the small window.
Two of Damien’s men were standing outside, their faces pale and grim. And between them lay a body, partially covered by a bloodstained sheet.
My stomach dropped.
I shoved the door open, my heart racing. “What’s going on?” I demanded, my voice trembling.
The men exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. One of them stepped forward, blocking my view of the body. “You shouldn’t be here, Miss Lisa,” he said firmly.
“Who is it?” I asked, my voice rising. “Who is it?”
Neither of them answered, but I didn’t need them to. My eyes drifted to the corner of the sheet where a lock of dark hair peeked out, and my heart stopped.
Maria.
I stumbled back, my hand flying to my mouth. Maria, the quiet housekeeper who had always been kind to me, who had been with Damien for years, was lying lifeless on the ground.
And then I saw the note.
It was pinned to her chest, the paper stark white against the dark stain spreading across her blouse.
“You’re next.”
The words burned into my mind as I stood frozen, my body trembling with shock. Maria was dead. And it wasn’t just an attack on Damien—it was a message. A warning.
For me.
The sound of footsteps behind me snapped me out of my daze. I turned to see Damien standing in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable. His eyes flicked to the body, then to the note, and something in his face hardened.
“Get her out of here,” he ordered the men, his voice cold.
They obeyed, lifting Maria’s body and carrying it away. The door closed behind them, leaving Damien and me alone in the dimly lit kitchen.
“She didn’t deserve this,” I said, my voice breaking.
“No,” Damien agreed, his tone grim. “She didn’t.”
I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face. “This has to stop, Damien. Before it’s too late.”
He didn’t respond. He just stared at me, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name.
And for the first time, I wondered if even he knew how to stop it.