Chapter 81
Damon's POV
My hand locked around her wrist before I could think.
Six inches. That's all the space left between us.
She'd been saying things—sharp, cutting things—and every word landed like a blade. About Scarlett. About me using her. About how I'd never really seen her.
And she was right. That's what made it worse.
My wolf stirred. Restless. Aggressive.
Shut her up. Make her stop looking at you like that. Make her—
Heat flooded my vision.
She caught her breath. She recognized it.
My gaze dropped to her mouth.
For one insane second, I thought about kissing her. Hard enough to erase every word she'd just said. Hard enough to make her forget there was anyone else.
What the hell am I doing?
The thought slammed into me like cold water.
I blinked hard. Steadied myself.
My grip loosened.
I stepped back, putting distance between us before I did something I couldn't take back.
She stayed against the wall, rubbing her wrist. Red marks bloomed where my fingers had been.
"You should go find Scarlett," she said, voice flat and empty. "She'll give you whatever you want. No questions asked."
The words stung more than they should have.
I turned without answering and walked out.
I didn't trust myself to stay.
I made it downstairs.
Donald was waiting in the foyer. The anger from earlier—gone. Replaced by a smile so eager it looked painful.
"Damon." He stepped forward, hands clasped. "How did it go?"
I stared at him.
"She's... resistant," I said carefully.
His smile didn't falter. "Of course she is. She's protecting her pride."
I'd seen her expression upstairs. That wasn't hurt pride. That was exhaustion.
"Mr. Cross, I can help your family in other ways—business partnerships, resource allocation. Marriage isn't necessary."
He opened his mouth, tried to speak, but no sound came out.
"Elena's wishes," I added. "Shouldn't those matter most?"
I didn't wait for his answer.
I turned and walked toward the door.
---
Elena's POV
I stared at the neatly folded sweater on my bed.
Caleb's. The dark gray knit he'd lent me weeks ago.
I'd washed it. Twice. But I could still catch traces of his scent if I pressed my face close enough.
I shook my head and shoved it into a canvas bag.
I grabbed my coat and headed downstairs.
The living room was dim. Only one lamp on.
Father sat on the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His tie was loosened.
He looked... small. I'd never seen him like this.
I tried to slip past toward the door.
"Elena."
I froze.
His voice wasn't sharp. It was hollow.
I turned slowly.
"The company's been failing for years." He laughed bitterly. "I kept thinking I could fix it. But I can't."
My chest tightened.
"You could ask the Vance family for—"
"It's hundreds of millions, Elena." He looked up at me. "Not a loan. A merger. And they won't even consider it unless..." He trailed off.
Unless I marry Damon.
"Damon said he'd help," I said quietly. "But he doesn't have the actual money or power yet."
Father shook his head. "I need his name. Damon Vance, future heir of Vance Industries. If he agrees to the marriage, investors will believe in us again. Otherwise?" He swallowed hard. "We lose everything."
He was no longer aggressive, instead revealing a hint of vulnerability. I just stood there, unsure how to respond.
"You're going out?"
I whispered. "Lila's waiting."
He nodded without looking at me. "Don't stay out too late."
---
I climbed into the back of a cab, clutching the canvas bag. The city blurred past the window.
I want to apply to grad schools abroad. Get out.
But that required money. My parents' money.
Money that was about to disappear.
My hands clenched.
Could I really leave them?
But if I stayed. If I married Damon.
I'd lose myself.
I leaned my head against the cold glass.
---
The cab dropped me outside Caleb's manor.
I stood at the entrance, then knocked.
No answer.
I checked my phone. No messages.
Right. He's probably at the office.
I could call. Ask when he'd be back.
My finger hovered over his name.
But I didn't press it.
What if I'm bothering him?
I slid down to sit on the floor, back against the wall. Knees pulled up.
I'll just wait.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
My legs went numb. But I didn't leave.
---
A car pulled slowly into the manor grounds, and he stepped out.
Caleb stopped when he spotted me.
I was still on the floor, curled into a ball, my coat pulled tight around me.
He crossed the distance in three strides.
"Elena—"
I tried to stand. My legs buckled.
He caught me instantly. One arm around my waist, steadying me.
The scent hit me like a wave.
Every wall I'd been holding up crumbled.
I didn't say anything. I just let my forehead drop against his chest.
I didn't move. Couldn't. My forehead stayed pressed against his chest, my fingers gripping the fabric of his coat like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
He didn't ask why I was here. Didn't ask what happened.
He just held me.
I felt him breathe in—slow, deliberate—and then his grip tightened.
"Your father," he said quietly. His voice was flat, controlled. "He's still pushing the engagement."
It wasn't a question.
I nodded against his chest. My throat was too tight to speak.
His other hand came up, fingers curling briefly into a fist before he forced them to relax. "Come inside."