Chapter 135 135
She trembled beneath his gaze, her voice breaking apart as if even her words were afraid to exist.
“P… pl… please… l-leave m-me…” she breathed.
The terror in her eyes struck him harder than any blow. It twisted something deep in his chest.
He was so damn confused.
Which version of her was real?
One moment she was all chatter and warmth, soft-hearted and annoyingly persistent. The next, she turned into someone guarded, distant someone who made choices that made no sense. Who was she truly? The girl he thought he knew before everything unraveled? The one trapped in the elevator with him, speaking about life like she had lived a hundred of them? Or the girl who stood in front of him and calmly agreed to be in a forbidden relationship with her own stepfather?
And why—why did she look petrified when he said he would be like Julien?
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
He released her wrist. She staggered back a step, unsteady. Quickly, she wiped at her tears, refusing to meet his eyes. But he could hear it the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat, the way her fingers trembled uncontrollably.
“What’s going on here?”
The voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Damien’s jaw locked as Julien’s scent reached him. Jacqueline stiffened instantly. She looked at Julien with wide, horrified eyes but the moment their gazes connected, she inhaled sharply and straightened her spine, forcing herself into composure. Without a word, she started walking toward him.
Damien grabbed her wrist.
She gasped.
Then she tore her hand from his hold as though his touch had burned her.
“Get in the fucking car,” Julien growled.
She obeyed. Silent. Immediate.
Julien stalked toward Damien. He was shorter, forced to glare upward in challenge.
“If I see you anywhere near her again,” he said coldly, “you won’t live to regret it.”
He turned and walked away.
If only the bastard knew what Damien truly was.
If Damien wanted, he could have ended him right there. His wolf clawed at his insides, desperate to tear Julien apart piece by piece. But Damien forced it down. Forced himself still.
He watched their car disappear into the night.
Call it instinct. Call it gut feeling.
Something wasn’t right.
Every time Julien came close, Jacqueline changed. She shrank. She stiffened. She looked afraid. And that bruise he’d seen on her chest
Fuck.
None of it added up.
Damien returned to the club and headed straight for the bar. He ordered a beer and downed it in one swallow, sitting alone afterward, staring at nothing.
“Hey, man. Have you seen Jacqueline?”
Gilles.
They had just realized she was gone.
“She left,” Damien muttered, already finishing his second drink. Alcohol did nothing to him he’d need far more than that to feel even a flicker of a buzz.
Gilles frowned, pulling out his phone, likely calling her as he walked back to the others.
When she used to irritate him, he’d wished she would just shut up and leave him alone.
But then there was that night in the elevator.
She had looked like an angel determined to save a monster.
Even after he warned her that he could ruin her, she had simply said
“I’m already destroyed.”
The memory hit him like lightning.
His eyes widened. He shoved off the barstool and strode out of the club.
Outside, her friends stood in a tight circle, their expressions stiff with unease.
He caught Thérèse’s voice.
“We shouldn’t have made Jacqueline lie to Julien about going out tonight.”
Damien clicked his tongue and walked faster.
Moments later, he was in his car, engine roaring to life as he sped down the road.
He didn’t know why he was going.
He just knew he had to get to her.
Her voice echoed in his head over and over.
I’m already destroyed.
Why would she say that?
What had happened to her?
Jacqueline wasn’t what he had accused her of being.
The real Jacqueline was the girl who annoyed the hell out of him just to win a stupid bet. The one who lectured him about perspective while they were stuck in an elevator. The girl terrified of the dark. The one who never stopped talking. The one who smiled through everything.
That night, when he saw Julien all over her, he’d been furious.
Because he believed she wasn’t that kind of girl.
He had even asked her had Julien forced her?
She denied it instantly.
Leaving him with one conclusion.
She was with her stepfather willingly.
The thought still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
She had confirmed it right to his face. But she only did that after he made it clear how low he thought of her. She didn’t consider him worthy of the truth. So she let him believe the worst. She reinforced every accusation.
It had to be an act.
Fuck.
Maybe she had expected him to look deeper. To see beyond the surface. But instead, he judged her. And in response, she decided to make him hate her.
Fuck!
What was the truth?
If Julien was forcing her, she was over eighteen. She could report him. She could have him arrested.
So what the hell was stopping her?
His mind spiraled, thought after thought crashing into each other.
He parked a short distance from her house. She had once mentioned that boys weren’t allowed inside. He remembered how tense she’d been the night he dropped her off and Julien had seen them from the doorway.
He also remembered how she had lied to Julien about working on an assignment at Damien’s place.
Damien scaled the wall easily, avoiding the guards at the main gate. He wasn’t interested in a formal entrance.
He moved around to the back of the house. Her scent drifted from a first-floor window strong and unmistakable.
He exhaled, preparing to climb
Then he froze.
The sharp metallic scent of blood hit his nose.
And beneath it, he heard Julien’s voice, venomous and furious.
“Fucking bitch. Sneaking around with other men behind my back? I guess I’ve been too lenient with you these past few days.”