Chapter 127 127
“No one knows what it did to me,” Jacqueline said quietly. “I never told anyone. No one needs to know.” Her voice thinned before she continued, “It was just me and my brother after that. Mathieu. He’s ten now.”
“Who’s your guardian?” Damien asked, his tone steady.
“Mr. Julien. My stepfather. He’s Mathieu’s dad.”
Damien gave a small nod. He knew exactly which Julien she meant—the same man hosting tonight’s event.
She had lost her mother so young, yet she carried herself as if nothing had cracked inside her. He understood trauma. He lived with it. So how did she seem so… normal? Was she truly that strong? Or had she buried her grief so deep that she no longer allowed herself to feel? Unlike him, who was still trapped in the same place he’d been three years ago.
“Are we going to die here?” she asked suddenly, fear slipping back into her voice.
“No,” he replied flatly.
Silence crashed down between them.
“What do you think about ghosts?” she blurted out, almost randomly.
Damien looked at her. She was undeniably strange. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor as if she was intentionally forcing conversation anything to keep her mind from drowning in the dark.
“They don’t exist,” he answered casually.
“Do you like dancing?”
“No.”
“Do you have friends?”
“No.”
“You can be my friend.”
“No.”
“You’re so rude.”
“No.”
“You’re intelligent.”
“No.”
She had said that one on purpose. When he responded the same way again, like some programmed machine, she burst into laughter.
The sound filled the elevator, bright and unexpected.
Damien shook his head slightly as he watched her. She looked… beautiful when she laughed. There was something luminous about her happiness, as if she carried her own light into the darkest room. As though sorrow had never touched her. Like a delicate flower that had somehow never met a storm.
“So you agree you’re not intelligent,” she teased between laughs.
He noticed her breathing had steadied. The tension in her shoulders had eased. If she stopped talking nonstop, she might actually be… pleasant company.
A thought crept into his mind if Gabrielle hadn’t left him, maybe his life would’ve been different. He wouldn’t have abandoned his pack just to escape the memories that suffocated him there. He might still be leading beside Dominique, fulfilling his Alpha duties. Instead, he’d run from everything.
It was his mother, Sofía, who insisted he finish his education. That was the only reason he was here.
“If I die here tonight… can you do something for me?” Jacqueline asked softly, her hopeful eyes lifting to meet his.
God.
She was making him talk more than he had in the last three years.
“You’re not dying,” he said, sounding bored.
“No, but sometimes there’s a second wave after an earthquake,” she rambled nervously. “You’re strong. Big. You might survive. I’m small and fragile. I’ll definitely die.”
He sighed and shifted, pulling one knee up and resting his arm over it. His other leg stretched out, his foot resting near her hip where she sat curled up.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Tell Mathieu I love him,” she said seriously. “Tell him I’ll always love him. Tell him to be strong. And smart. This world is full of sharks.”
That last sentence made him glance at her differently. She was smarter than he’d initially assumed.
“Tell him yourself,” Damien muttered.
She pouted.
“Fine. If you die, do you want me to pass on any final words for you?” she asked, equally serious.
He inhaled sharply. The only reason he tolerated her endless chatter was because he knew she was terrified of the dark.
“If these are my last moments,” he grumbled, leaning his head back against the wall, “I’d like to spend them in peace. So stop talking.”
“Which movies do you like? Action? Horror? Romance? Mystery? Thriller? Animated? I can’t remember more genres,” she muttered thoughtfully.
He let his head thud lightly against the wall and closed his eyes. “I don’t watch movies.”
“Damien.”
His eyes snapped open.
The way she said his name it wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic. It was soft. Gentle. As if she could see straight through his cold exterior. As if she knew he was hurting and wanted to take that hurt away.
“Why don’t you just let it go?” she whispered.
He looked directly at her. She hadn’t said Gabrielle’s name. She hadn’t specified anything. But they both understood.
“I can’t,” he admitted quietly.
Jacqueline slowly lowered her knees and crawled closer to him. She stopped near his thigh, hesitating only a second before reaching for his hand.
Damien watched her carefully, like a predator assessing movement. Her fingers trembled as they wrapped around his large, calloused hand but she didn’t pull away.
“Life goes on,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on the contrast between his rough hand and her smaller one. “The sooner you accept that, the easier it becomes.”
“You don’t know anything,” he muttered, though he made no attempt to withdraw his hand. Her touch was warm. Soft.
“Life is precious, Damien,” she continued gently. “There are people out there who would give anything to have your life. Don’t just exist in it. Live it. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how deep the pain runs. Just… try to smile once in a while. Try to be happy.”
She squeezed his hand lightly.
“What difference would that make?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I think you should cry sometimes. Late at night. In the shower or in the bath. Let it out. Keeping it bottled up like this… it’s destroying you from the inside.”
She released his hand and quietly returned to her corner.
“Your pain isn’t the same as mine, Jacq,” he said in a low voice. “You could never understand it.”
Her heart fluttered at the nickname.
She glanced at her hands the same ones that had held his only moments ago and smiled faintly.
“Maybe you’re right,” she whispered.