Romans de D.SUSI

Damien leans back in the chair for a moment, eyes never leaving Ivy. Her breathing is steady now, slow and regular, but the faint rise and fall of her chest still tugs at him. Her fingers twitch slightly, weak, as if trying to grasp something, but she does not move on her own. He studies her, memorizing every line of her face, the uneven color of her skin, the bruises dark beneath the pale surface. His ribs ache sharply with every small movement, but he ignores it. He glances at the monitors, nods slightly, then stands. He walks to the small sink across the room, washes his hands, wipes them on a clean towel, and returns to her bedside, careful not to make a sound that might startle her.The nurses quietly handle her care. They adjust the IV, check her vitals, bring small cups of water and soft food. Damien does not interfere, but he watches everything. Every motion, every careful tilt of her head, every cautious sip of water. He notices when she swallows, waits until her lips relax b

The van swerves into the hospital driveway so fast the tires screech. Damien throws the door open before the vehicle even stops. He lifts Ivy with both arms. Her body is limp, head rolling against his shoulder. Her clothes hang in strips, soaked in dirt and dried blood. His ribs scream as he bolts through the sliding doors, but he keeps going.“Doctor,” Damien shouts. His voice blasts across the lobby. “Now. Someone get a doctor now.”The nurses freeze for a second when they see Ivy. One of them drops a clipboard. Another jolts into action and hits an emergency button on the wall. A team rushes out from behind a desk. They take one look at Ivy and guide Damien toward a hallway.“Bring her in here,” one of them says.Damien hesitates for half a breath, thinking they might take her from him, but they push open a door to a bright room marked VIP. He carries Ivy inside and lays her carefully on the bed they point to. Her head sinks into the pillow, her chest rising unevenly.The doctor wa

“Get me Killan. Now.”Static crackles, then a voice comes through, steady but cautious. “Boss.”“I just got a message,” Damien says, voice raw from shouting and no sleep. “Unknown number. Images of Ivy. There is a countdown. I want the origin traced. Right now.”“Send it through.”Damien forwards the file, fingers shaking. His chest is tight, heart hammering. “God please don’t let anything happen to Ivy.” He whispers it, the first prayer he has muttered since his mother disappeared.Killan’s voice returns, clipped. “Got it. Location pinged. License plate matches a van. I have a street address. You want me to send coordinates?”“Yes. Coordinates. Now.”Maps pop up on the screen in front of Damien. Pins, lines, nothing but movement, everything pointing to a single building on the edge of the city. A warehouse district, empty streets, perfect for hiding.Damien grabs his coat, pistol in one hand, chain in the other. He signals to his men, their eyes wide but knowing. No questions. They m

Chapter 23He ripped the chain from his arm and hurled it. It slammed into the wall and clattered to the floor like a thrown sentence. The sound felt small and hollow compared with the ache inside him. Ivy was gone. The room held the ghost of her. That was enough.Damien did not pause to mourn. He moved through the house like a storm, voice cutting orders, body smashing through furniture without noticing. Staff scrambled. Guards lined up, faces pale. He did not look at them. He barked, he shoved, he demanded. He needed every eye, every hand, every pair of feet focused toward one point. He needed a perimeter of motion expanding outward until it reached the city line.“Listen to me,” he said, voice tight and raw. “If anyone lies, if anything is hidden, if even one minute is wasted, I will make this city burn until there is nothing left to hide behind. Do you hear me? Everyone move. Now.”They moved. Men with keys, drivers with maps, housekeepers with lists of deliveries, mechanics who k

Mr. Voss’s shadow filled the doorway, calm and absolute. The guards stiffened. Damien froze only for a breath. Then he pushed. The chain screamed and the bolt tore loose from the wall.The sound was sharp, metal on stone, and the guards spun toward him. Damien swung the length of chain like a weapon, slamming it into the nearest man’s head. The guard crumpled. Another lunged, baton raised, but Damien shifted his weight and wrapped the chain around the man’s arm, wrenching it until bone cracked.Mr. Voss didn’t flinch. His eyes were steady, cold, proud in a way that cut deeper than any weapon. “My son,” he said, as if watching a lesson unfold.Damien ignored the words. He spun again, chain striking, boots kicking. Another guard fell. A baton struck his ribs and pain exploded through his side, but he did not stop. He could not stop.Blood smeared the floor. Keys scattered. Damien dropped low, snatched them up, and ripped the manacles from his wrists. His skin tore where the metal had cu

Chapter 21Damien moved slowly, painfully. Every shift of the chain made metal rasp and his skin sting. He counted nothing. Counting was useless. Only movement mattered. He tested the links again, each one a tiny chance, a whisper of freedom. A link shifted a fraction and he froze, listening.Footsteps echoed in the corridor. A guard laughed and cursed under his breath. Keys jingled. The pattern was familiar, mapped from long hours of observation, long hours of suffering. Timing was his weapon. Muscle memory became a map of survival.He twisted against the chain. Pain erupted in his shoulder but he ignored it. A link gave a fraction more. That fraction meant leverage. He pushed again. Metal groaned and he inhaled, sharp and shallow. Each small sound in the facility was magnified, a signal he could use.The door creaked as someone approached. He pressed himself against the shadows of the wall, waiting. The guard appeared, keys at his belt, flashlight in hand. Damien stayed still, silen

Chapter Twenty FourThe morning sunlight felt sharper than it had the day before, like knives slipping through the tall glass windows. I blinked against the brightness, my head still heavy from the storm of words that had spilled out last night. My chest ached with the memory, and for a moment I thought I might have dreamed it all. Liam’s face. His steady voice. That impossible suggestion. Marry me.But the ache in my chest told me it had been real.I pushed the sheets away and rose from the bed, my legs trembling as though even standing demanded too much strength. The penthouse felt too large, too quiet, and the silence pressed against me with an almost physical weight. I wanted to run, to disappear, but my body moved slowly, as though caught in invisible chains.The phone on the nightstand lit up, its screen flashing with alerts. At first, I ignored it. I did not want to know. I did not want to see. But curiosity, cruel and relentless, pulled me toward it. My fingers curled around t

Chapter Twenty ThreeMorning creeps in through the tall windows, pale light spilling across the room. My eyes open slowly, heavy from the restless night. The sheets feel too soft beneath me, too warm, and for a moment I almost forget where I am. Then I hear the sound of footsteps outside the bedroom door, steady and measured, and reality crashes back.I am still in Liam’s penthouse.I sit up, rubbing my temples, my chest aching with the memory of last night. The gala, the stares, the whispers. Elizabeth’s venomous words. Daniel’s cruel smirk. They all echo in my head like ghosts that will not leave. I press a hand against my chest, as if I can still those voices by force.The door opens, and Liam steps inside. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, his hair slightly tousled as if he has been pacing. He carries two mugs of coffee, the steam curling up in the air.“You are awake,” he says, his voice low, even.“Yes.” My throat feels dry, my voice faint.He crosses the room and places one mug

Chapter Twenty TwoThe ballroom feels louder when I step back in. The lights glare, the chandeliers raining brightness down on all the polished marble, all the gowns that glitter like jewels. The music soars, but it feels too sharp in my ears. My hands are still trembling, even though I press them flat against the folds of my dress to stop them. I can still hear Elizabeth’s laugh. Daniel’s voice calling me names as if I am nothing.And then I see him.Liam stands near the center of the room, towering above most of the men, his black suit cut sharp across his shoulders. His gaze sweeps the crowd as if searching, but the moment I step into the light, his eyes catch mine. Relief flares across his face, subtle but certain, and he moves instantly. He cuts through the room like it parts for him, his steps firm, deliberate. Within moments, he is in front of me, his hand reaching for my elbow as though he needs to confirm I am real.“You were gone longer than five minutes,” he says, his voic

Chapter Twenty OneThe music swells around us, bright violins rising above the low hum of voices. The chandeliers gleam overhead, spilling golden light across the polished floor. I feel dizzy, not from the champagne Liam pressed into my hand earlier, but from everything that has happened tonight. The stares, the whispers, the push, the fall that never reached the ground because he caught me. His presence is still wrapped around me, even as he stands tall at my side.Liam does not hesitate. His fingers find mine, steady and sure, and before I can second guess, he threads our hands together. The warmth of his palm presses into mine, anchoring me. His other hand rests lightly at the small of my back as though he has decided the entire ballroom belongs to us and no one else.“We dance,” he says simply, his deep voice cutting through the music, through the clamor of a hundred watching eyes.My breath stalls. “I don’t know how.”His mouth curves, not quite a smile, more like something restr

Chapter TwentyThe silence presses in on me, heavy and suffocating. The line of guests murmurs impatiently behind me, shifting in their glittering gowns and sharp tuxedos, their perfume and cologne mingling with the faint scent of roses that line the stairway. The attendant waits with an unflinching stare, his gloved hand resting firmly on the rope barrier, and Elizabeth’s mocking smile slices straight through me. My hands tremble as I clutch my empty bag, my fingertips brushing uselessly through the fabric once more, searching for something that is not there. The invitation is gone, and so is any trace of confidence I had left.“Without it, you cannot enter,” the attendant repeats, his voice clipped, sharp, like a final strike of a gavel. There is no space for compromise in his tone, no softness, no mercy.The ground feels as though it is tilting beneath me. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the distant murmur of violins that leak from the ballroom. I open my mouth, but no sou

Chapter NineteenThe penthouse glitters with soft light as I finish adjusting the silver gown. The fabric shimmers every time I move, hugging me in a way that feels both terrifying and powerful. My hair is swept into a style the makeup artist created earlier, and my lips gleam faintly under the glow of the chandelier. I hardly recognize the woman in the mirror. She looks untouchable.Then I glance at Liam. He stands by the window, phone to his ear, his suit fitting him like it was crafted with only him in mind. His shoulders are set, his jaw sharp. Even his silence has weight.“Yes, handle it,” he says quietly. “No delays. I will be there shortly.”He ends the call, slips the phone into his jacket, and turns toward me. For a moment he just looks, and the intensity in his eyes makes me press my hands against the folds of my gown to steady myself.“You are ready,” he says.“I think so,” I whisper.“Good.” He takes his cufflinks from the dresser, fastens them with swift precision, and th