Chapter 118
Damon's POV
"What?"
"Kiss me." Her voice hardened. "Right here. Right now. Where anyone can see."
I glanced toward the crowd of racers and spectators milling around the entrance. Billy was there, watching us with poorly concealed curiosity.
"Scarlett—"
"You said nothing changes." She pushed back slightly, creating space between us that felt like an accusation. "So show me. Kiss me like you mean it. Like I'm not your dirty secret you'll hide away once you put a ring on her finger."
The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable.
I pulled her back in, one hand tangling in her hair as I kissed her hard enough to bruise. She responded immediately, her fingers clutching at my jacket, and for a moment it felt like it always had—consuming, addictive, right.
When we broke apart, I kept my forehead pressed to hers. "After the engagement party," I murmured, "I'll take you to the resort. Make up for everything."
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. But as she pulled away, I caught something in her expression—not satisfaction, but something more complex.
---
Elena's POV
I woke to the sound of an engine revving close by, the vibration traveling through the car's frame. For a disorienting moment, I didn't remember where I was.
Then I shifted, and the pain in my ankle grounded me back in the present. Damon. The race track.
I pushed myself upright, pressing one hand against the cool leather seat to steady myself. Through the tinted window, the world outside was a blur of movement—people shouting, cars pulling into position, exhaust smoke rising in pale clouds against the gray sky.
I rolled down the rear window.
And there, not fifty feet away, stood Damon and Scarlett. Kissing.
Their bodies pressed close enough to leave no doubt about intent. It wasn't a quick peck or a stolen moment—it was deliberate, possessive, the kind of kiss meant to erase any question of where his loyalty lay.
My first instinct wasn't heartbreak. It wasn't even anger.
It was exhaustion.
Again.
I remembered the resort, watching him choose her comfort over my truth. This wasn't new. This was just another iteration of the same choice, played out with slightly different choreography.
After he brought Scarlett into the racing venue, I lay back down, staring at the roof.
I hope after we're officially engaged, I thought distantly, Scarlett will stop seeing me as competition.
---
Damon's POV
Billy jogged over as I drove the race car back to the starting line, his face split in a familiar grin. "Man, you missed it! Just had the craziest run—almost clipped the barrier on turn three, but pulled it back."
"Good for you." The words came out flatter than I intended.
He gave me a curious look. "You alright?"
"Fine."
"You sure?"
I forced a smirk, falling back into the easy bravado that usually came naturally. "Just family shit. The engagement thing."
"Right." Billy's grin faded slightly. "That's still happening?"
"Yeah."
"Even though your girlfriend's—" He jerked his chin toward where Scarlett stood chatting with another racer near her bike. "Over there?"
"Scarlett understands."
"Does she?" He raised an eyebrow. "Because she looked pretty pissed when she got here. And that kiss you two just had looked more like a hostage negotiation than a romantic reunion."
I shot him a warning glance. "Drop it."
"Hey, your life, your mess." He held up both hands in surrender.
The words landed harder than they should have. "You don't understand the situation."
"I understand you're about to marry someone you clearly don't give a damn about while stringing along someone who'll bail the second things get tough." He shrugged. "Your call, man. But don't act surprised when it all blows up in your face."
He walked away before I could respond, leaving me standing alone at the edge of the track.
I looked back toward the car. The windows were dark, impenetrable.
After seeing Scarlett off, I returned to the car.
Elena didn't look at me, busy replying to messages on her phone instead.
---
Elena's POV
My phone vibrated twice in succession.
I ignored them. I had my eyes closed but wasn't sleeping.
Another vibration.
Leave me alone, I thought, pressing my face harder into the leather. Whoever you are, leave me alone.
But the vibrations wouldn't stop.
With an exhale that felt like surrender, I pulled out my phone.
Hector's number
My thumb hesitated over the screen. Then I opened the messages.
The content made my stomach drop.
You're fucking unbelievable, you know that? You made him believe you cared. Made him plan a whole goddamn future. Then you just disappeared.
I stared at the words, my vision beginning to blur at the edges.
You're just like all the rest. You use him, then throw him away when it's convenient.
My throat closed. The phone screen swam in front of me, the text dissolving into meaningless shapes.
I'm sorry, I typed with shaking fingers. I didn't want to hurt him. I never meant to—
I deleted it.
It's not what you think. I had to—
Deleted that too.
What could I say? That I was forced? That I had no choice?
They all sounded like excuses. Justifications for being exactly what this person said I was: a coward.
One last message.
So yeah, congratulations. You found the one person in this whole damn city who treated you like you were precious, and you destroyed him. I hope Damon Vance was worth your soul.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I wanted to throw the phone. To scream. To do something, anything, to make this crushing weight in my chest disappear.