Chapter 4

Lana’s POV

“What the heck?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, barely louder than a whisper, yet it felt like they carried all the weight of my racing heart.

Damon had just said that.

His voice wasn’t raised, not rough, not sharp, just quiet. But there was something in the way it rolled off his tongue, a restrained command that wrapped around me like chains.

It wasn’t a request.

It was a declaration.

I swallowed hard, but my throat refused to loosen. I couldn’t breathe properly under his gaze. That piercing stare of his pinned me where I stood, stealing the air right out of my lungs. My chest rose and fell in short, unsteady waves, but his closeness was suffocating like fire curling around my skin, burning, claiming, demanding.

And at that moment, one thing became painfully clear.

Damon wasn’t going to let me walk away this time so easily.

I clenched my fists by my sides, trying to steady my voice, but anger sharpened every word.

“You!” I took a shaky breath. “You don’t get to do this, Damon. You don’t get to look at me like you have some right over me!”

His lips curved, slow and dangerous, a smirk that looked like trouble incarnate. “And yet… here you are. Trembling,” he murmured, his voice deep enough to ripple through me.

I stepped back, forcing distance between us, refusing to let him see the chaos inside me. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I mocked, folding my arms tightly across my chest to hide the way my fingers trembled. “You have no right to demand anything from me. Not now. Not ever.” My eyes narrowed. “What is this anyway, huh? You want to play a hero? Or maybe…” I hesitated, bitterness tightening my voice, “you want to steal your own nephew’s woman? The latter is definitely it.”

That smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened, dark, amused, infuriating.

“Steal?” His voice was a low rumble, dangerous and smooth, like velvet laced with poison. He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes glittering with something unspoken. “No, Lana… I don’t want to steal.” He leaned in, his breath grazing my ear as he whispered, “I want to claim.”

My heart stopped for a beat.

He straightened, his smirk widening as though feeding on my shock. “You think I don’t see it? That fire in you when you’re with me?” His eyes dragged over my face, slow and unyielding, making my skin prickle. “The idea of playing with my nephew’s fiancée… It’s thrilling.”

I froze. For a moment, I couldn’t even form words. My jaw went slack, my breath caught in my throat, and heat flooded my chest, not the good kind, but the infuriating kind.

“You’re insane,” I hissed, finally finding my voice.

“Maybe,” he admitted easily, like madness was his favorite weapon. “Or maybe I just know what I want.”

I forced my expression into something cold, distant, detached, anything but what he made me feel.

“You’re delusional if you think I’d ever go back to you,” I spat, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “I’m Liam’s fiancée, Damon. Do you understand that? Liam’s.”

The name hung between us like a challenge.

Something sharp flickered in his eyes, but instead of backing down, he stepped even closer until the heat of his body was all around me.

“Say his name again,” he dared softly, his tone low and lethal, “and I might just get rid of him faster.”

My breath hitched. He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. The weight of his words pressed against me, cold and suffocating.

I blinked hard, willing my heart to steady. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let him pull me into his game. “That’s it, Damon,” I said finally, my voice sharp but quiet. “I need the fragment. Sell it to me at its original price, Damon. One hundred million. That’s all I want from you.”

For a moment, silence filled the hallway.

His gaze burned into mine, undecipherable and heavy, until finally, his lips curved into a slow, wicked smile.

“Sell you the fragment?” His voice was soft, mocking, dangerous. “Alright…” He paused deliberately, lowering his tone until it curled against my skin. “…Sell yourself to me, Lana. And it’s yours.”

The words slammed into me like a punch to the gut.

My blood roared in my ears as disbelief tangled with anger, my nails digging into my palms until they hurt. “You…” My voice cracked with the force of it. “You’re disgusting!” My fury boiled over, sharp and unrestrained. “You’re a dog, Damon!”

For a heartbeat, I expected his expression to harden, his pride to flare, his anger to erupt. But instead… he smiled.

Not a mocking smirk this time. Not arrogance. Something else entirely.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening in the strangest way, and whispered, “Then I’m your dog.”

The words slipped into the air, quiet but deafening.

My breath hitched. My chest tightened painfully. Something twisted deep inside me, wild and heavy, impossible to name. My hands trembled, not from fear this time but from the weight of what I was seeing, this man, the one everyone feared, the man they called a killer, a monster, a death machine, standing here, lowering himself for me without shame.

“Damon…” My voice broke around his name, fragile and strained, as if saying it would make sense of everything but it didn’t.

I hated the way my heart reacted. I hated the way my thoughts tangled into chaos. I hated the heat rising beneath my skin. But most of all, I hated that his words clung to me like a shadow, refusing to let go.

The silence between us stretched, charged, unsteady, and I felt his gaze deepen, pulling me into something dangerous I wasn’t ready to name.

I froze when his warm hand suddenly enveloped mine. His grip wasn’t forceful this time, soft, almost hesitant, as if he was scared I’d run away again. My breath caught when his thumb brushed against my knuckles, and I dared to glance up.

Damon’s storm-gray eyes were calmer now, no longer burning with the wild frustration from moments ago. There was something else there… something softer.

“Lana,” he said quietly, voice low but steady, “I’ll give you time to think… about us getting back together.”

My lips parted, but no sound came out. His words sank into me like drops of water on parched earth. I wanted to deny him, to push him away, yet my throat felt locked.

“I know you don’t love Liam,” he continued, gaze unwavering, “and I’ll wait… until you finally see that too and break off the engagement.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. My heart thumped painfully, tangled between guilt and something dangerously close to longing.

Why did he sound so sure?

Why did his gentle tone make me hesitate when I had promised myself I was done with him?

Before I could find an answer, his phone buzzed. Damon didn’t release my hand. He slid the phone from his pocket, eyes still locked on mine, and swiped to answer.

“Yeah?” he said, voice clipped.

A deep, teasing voice crackled through the speaker, loud enough for me to hear. “Damon… so, are you and Lana back together already? Didn’t you once say, and I quote, ‘If I ever go begging her to get back together, I’ll be a dog?’”

The words sliced through me like cold steel. My chest tightened, and Damon’s jaw locked instantly, his fingers tightening unconsciously around mine.

Rage flared inside me, hot and sharp. My hand trembled, but this time it wasn’t from confusion, it was anger.

Without a word, I yanked my hand free, my breath shaky, my glare fixed on him.

And for the first time tonight, Damon’s confident expression faltered.