Damian’s POV I stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, my gaze locked on her retreating form. Each slow, deliberate step she took, her hand gripping the polished banister so tightly her knuckles were white, her shoulders stiff with forced composure, did nothing to calm the raw, visceral storm that churned inside me. If anything, her pathetic show of resistance only fueled it, igniting a deeper, more primal rage. My jaw clenched so tight it ached, a dull, persistent throb. My knuckles still pulsed beneath the hastily applied bandage Ava had wrapped around them earlier—too tight at first, then trembling, hesitant, as she tried to fix the damage I had wrought. The rough, masculine scent of the office, tainted with the faint, metallic tang of James’s blood, still clung to my skin, a constant reminder of my unchecked fury. I hadn’t even bothered to bandage them properly after slamming that sniveling coward into the floor, hearing the sickening crunch of his jaw snapping under my
Ava's POVI froze, my feet rooted to the spot, a sudden paralysis seizing me. Every instinct screamed at me to turn and run, to disappear into the labyrinth of the city. “Now, Ava.” His voice was sharper this time, a cold, hard command that cut through my paralysis. My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms, as I forced myself forward, one heavy step after another. Sliding into the cool, silent leather seat felt like stepping into a cage, the latch clicking shut behind me with a sickening finality. I was trapped. Again. Oliver didn’t speak as the door shut, plunging the interior into a suffocating gloom, and the SUV lurched back into motion, smoothly accelerating through the city streets. The silence that filled the car was worse than any shouted words could’ve been, thick with unspoken knowledge, with his unspoken wrath. Oliver’s face in the rearview mirror was a grim, unreadable mask. I didn’t dare look at him. I didn’t dare ask if he’d seen what Damian lo
Ava’s POV The city streets, usually a vibrant tapestry of noise and motion, were unnervingly quiet at this hour, a stark contrast to the chaotic turmoil churning within me. And yet, despite the relative silence, the air still felt heavy—suffocating—as though his pervasive presence was chasing me, clinging to my very skin, even here, miles from his watchful eyes. I pulled my thin coat tighter around myself, the fabric offering no real comfort against the biting chill that had settled deep in my bones, a cold knot of dread that now resided permanently in my chest. My heels clicked against the cracked, uneven sidewalk, each sharp sound a frantic drumbeat against the quiet, urging me faster, urging me to outrun the inevitable. I hadn’t meant to leave the office like that. Not really. It was an impulsive, desperate act. But when his voice had barked my name over the intercom earlier, the sound rattling through my office, summoning me, when I remembered the way his hand had bled, th
Damian's POV I released her jaw slowly, my fingers lingering for a fraction of a second, before standing. I circled around the vast mahogany desk like a panther, movements fluid and silent. My Italian leather shoes clicked sharply on the polished marble as I came to stand directly behind her chair, a looming, omnipresent shadow. I leaned down, my lips almost at her ear, my voice a dark, chilling whisper now, a private vow of destruction. “Don’t mistake my patience for weakness. Don’t ever confuse my control for softness. If you let another man near you—if you betray me for even a second, in thought or deed—I will not simply hurt you. I will not simply kill him. I will make you watch while I carve him open, strip him of everything, and break every bone in his body, one by agonizing one, before your pretty eyes. I will ensure his screams are the last thing you hear, the last memory you carry. And then, when you beg me for mercy, when you are broken and weeping, I’ll decide whether
Damian’s POV The raw, metallic tang of blood still clung to my skin, an iron-rich scent that mixed unsettlingly with the faint, sophisticated cologne I’d applied this morning. It was a potent, visceral reminder of the unleashed beast within, a testament to the brief, violent rupture in my meticulously cultivated control. My right hand, a dull throb beneath the freshly applied bandage, pulsed with a rhythm that mirrored the lingering echoes of the confrontation. Ava had wrapped it—too tight at first, her fingers trembling visibly, then hesitating, pulling back, only to continue with a focused determination as she tried to make it right. Her hands had shaken, yes, but she hadn’t run. She had stayed. That was… unexpected. Truly unexpected. A variable I hadn't accounted for in my calculations. I sat in my high-backed leather chair, the polished mahogany desk between us now marred with faint, iridescent smudges of crimson, glistening subtly in the sharp morning light. The scattered pap
Ava's POV I grabbed his arm then, desperate, my fingers digging into the hard, unyielding muscle of his bicep, tugging hard, pulling with all my strength. “Damian! Enough! You’re going to kill him!” His head whipped toward me, his eyes wild and dark—a wolf caught mid-hunt, pulled from its kill. For a terrifying second, I thought he would turn on me too, that his rage would encompass me in its blind fury. His gaze, primal and unseeing, swept over my face. But then, his breathing slowed, just slightly, a ragged, shuddering gasp, his broad chest heaving. The fire in his eyes dimmed by a fraction, replaced by something cold, calculating, as though he was slowly returning to himself from a dark place. James slumped to the floor, a broken, whimpering heap, barely conscious, blood dripping steadily down his face, forming a small, macabre pool on the marble as he groaned, a sound of profound pain and defeat. Damian finally released him, shoving him aside with a raw disgust, as if he w