7

Chapter 7

The Night I Shouldn’t Have Let Her Go

Damien’s POV

I knew it. Clarissa is stubborn…more stubborn than I even give her credit for. Back in high school, she had that same defiant streak. She’d make a promise with her lips, then twist it to her own terms with her actions.

Tonight was no different.

I told her not to go to this party. She swore she wouldn’t cause trouble. She even convinced me to let her stay in my house, flashing that innocent smile of hers that hides a thousand secrets. I believed her. I should have known better.

And now, here I am, staring at my laptop, halfway through a game, when my phone rings. The voice on the other end is panicked; someone says her drink has been spiked. Cocaine.

For a moment, I wanted to tell myself it wasn’t my problem. I wanted to let it go. I’m not the type of guy she thinks I am—cold, detached, and always unbothered. But no matter how hard I tried, my mind kept spinning into dark places.

What if someone had her alone right now?

What if they were touching her…her body, in that short red dress she wore tonight? I felt so jealous.

My chest tightened. I slammed my laptop shut, grabbed my jacket, and bolted for my car. The door slammed behind me like a gunshot.

As I turned the key and the engine roared to life, the only thing running through my head was, "No one touches Clarissa." She’s mine.

Then, like a slap, reason tried to punch through my rage. I reminded myself again: She’s your step-cousin, Damien. Step-cousin. You don’t cross that line.

But I couldn’t stop the truth burning under my ribs. I wanted her. I’ve always wanted her.

I pressed my foot down, the tires screaming against the asphalt. Streetlights streaked past in a blur as I sped toward the party. My hands were locked so tight on the wheel that my knuckles burned white.

When I finally pulled up outside the building, I could feel the bass thumping from the pavement. Heat radiated from the walls, and the air was heavy with sweat, perfume, and beer.

A graduation party. Exactly the kind of chaos I expected. The undergraduate students are always doing the most.

Pushing through the crowd at the entrance, I felt dozens of eyes shift toward me. I didn’t slow down.

What Clarissa doesn’t know, and not only her but even few of the people in that room didn’t know about it, is that I’m not just a student at this university. I’m also a professor. A professor in her class. Yeah, that’s how brilliant I am. I never told her because the timing never came.

But now? Now I was here for something more urgent than secrets. I was here to get her back.

I shoved my way deeper inside until I found the stage.

“Stop this party!” I shouted. My voice was swallowed by the pounding music.

I didn’t ask again. I kicked the speaker hard enough to topple it, then grabbed a wine bottle from a nearby table and poured it over the DJ’s laptop. Sparks hissed, and the music cut.

Silence filled the room, which was followed by the ripple of whispers.

Every face in the room turned toward me, some shocked, some irritated, some… admiring. I don’t give a Damon about the looks.

“Oh my God, he’s so sexy,” I heard one girl whisper.

“He’s even prettier in person,” another sighed.

“I want him,” someone breathed, her voice dripping with hunger.

I caught sight of two familiar faces, Emily and Zara, both in my class. Emily’s wide-eyed stare screamed surprise. Zara’s smirk was something darker.

“Oh my goodness,” Emily murmured.

Zara leaned in to her. “That’s your crush, huh? The legendary Damien. What’s he doing at an undergraduate party?”

I ignored the murmurs and grabbed the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I began, my voice low and deliberate. “Sorry to ruin your celebration. But I’m here for something important. I’m here for a girl.”

Gasps broke out. A few whispers turned into laughter.

Oh no! What the hell is wrong with you, Damien!?

Realizing how that sounded, I corrected myself sharply. “She’s my roommate. She needed to show me something, so I came to get her. Her name is Clarissa Wang.”

I saw Zara’s expression shift quickly, like she’d swallowed a secret she didn’t want slipping out.

“She’s about five-foot-seven, honey-blonde hair, long and wavy, short red dress, black eyeliner.”

Zara snorted under her breath. “Really, Mr. Damien? The guy who can’t remember a girl’s name suddenly remembers every detail of the makeup that slut wears?”

Her voice was loud enough for the nearest people to hear. Laughter rippled through the room.

My jaw tightened. I looked straight at her. “Zara, you better tell me where the hell Clarissa is, or none of you leave here without consequences.” She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Maybe you can go look for her wherever losers are having their party!”

The laughter only grew louder until I heard one low chuckle behind me.

I turned, and as expected, of all idiots who could have done that, it was Daniel, Clinton’s friend.

Of course.

We’d gone to the same high school. I’d never liked him then, and seeing his smug face now boiled my blood.

I closed the distance between us in two strides, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the nearest wall. “You don’t cross my line, Daniel. Ever.”

I raised my voice so the whole room could hear. “If I don’t find Clarissa, none of you walk out of here because I will make sure each of you loses your limbs.”

Emily, who had been biting her fingernail anxiously, suddenly blurted out, “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you where she is!”

I dropped Daniel instantly and spun toward her. “Now. Talk.”

Her voice shook. “She… she got drunk just now. She’s in the bathroom.”

I didn’t wait to hear anything else. I tore through the crowd, ignoring the stares, the whispers, and the curses.

“Out of my way,” I yelled, burning in rage.

The hall outside the main room was quieter, but not by much. Laughter and music from other rooms echoed faintly. I followed the hallway until I spotted the sign for the restroom. I could see lots of students kissing and making out by the hallway reeking of alcohol, and I didn’t fucking care!

That’s when I heard it.

A muffled, strained voice was coming from the female restroom.

“Let me go… Someone help me…”

My chest tightened as I quickened my pace. At this point I didn’t think twice before knowing who it was; the voice was hers. Clarissa.

I pushed the door open.

And froze. A guy was forcing himself on her; facing backwards, I couldn’t see his face, but I don’t care!

His hands were all over her, pinning her against the tiled wall. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed as she was struggling to shove him off her, but his chest was pinning her to the wall, and he was stronger, leaning his weight into her.

Something in me snapped. My eyes dimmed as I rushed to him.

“Let her go. Now.”

The words came out like a growl, low and deadly. The sound seemed to shake the walls.

His head whipped toward me, but before he could react, I was already moving. I grabbed him by the back of his shirt and ripped him away from her.

Her knees buckled. She caught herself on the sink, gasping for air. My hand was still locked on the guy's collar as I slammed him against the opposite wall.

And that’s when it hit me…

The guy forcing himself on her wasn’t just some random drunk.

It was Clinton.

What the hell!?