CHAPTER 7: She's A Puzzle I Can't Solve.

DAMIAN'S POV

I watch Mara disappear through the front doors. She doesn't look back, not once, and that bothers me more than it should.

A few minutes ago, she was standing against a wall with my hand around her waist, trying so hard to convince me she didn't want me that I could almost hear the lie in her breathing.

Now she is gone, and I find myself staring at the empty doorway like an idiot. I don't like that. I have never been the man who waits for a woman to leave and wonders where she's going.

Women usually make that part easy. They come to me.

They flirt, they touch, they offer themselves before I've decided whether I want them. I have had beautiful women in every city I have visited, women who knew exactly who I was and wanted the danger that came with my name.

None of them stayed in my thoughts after they walked away, but somehow, Mara does.

She has managed to create a space in my mind for years without even knowing it. I noticed her long before she ever knew my name.

I remember seeing her at Adrian's party, standing beneath the garden lights with a glass in her hand, laughing at something someone said. Everyone else in that house was dressed to impress, but Mara looked as though she had forgotten there was anything to prove.

Then curiosity made me wonder where she lived. After that, I found out, and I told myself I was only curious. That curiosity grew into watching her every move like an obsessed wolf. Watching her made me know things even Adrian didn't know.

She became my personal burden—small gifts anonymously left where she would find them, problems quietly removed before they reached her, and an awareness of her life that I had no business possessing.

I never called it love. Love is a word I have never trusted, but whatever the hell it is, I have carried it for years, and now that she has finally stood in front of me, I don't want to let her go.

That should be enough to concern me.

It doesn't.

What concerns me is the way my mind behaves around her, the calmness of the beasts inside my head.

Years of blood have a way of leaving something behind, and mine have never learned when to be quiet. Faces appear where there should be empty walls. Voices follow me into rooms. Sometimes I close my eyes and see men I've killed standing exactly where I left them.

Mara looks at me, and they disappear.

I don't understand it. The more I try to figure it out, the more it feels like water slipping through my hands, and I have never liked a puzzle I couldn't solve.

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, gripping the edge of the sink, my mind slipping back to her eyes.

Those fucking eyes.

The more I tell myself to stop looking at her, the more I want to. There is something in them that keeps pulling me back, something I can't name yet, something that makes the beasts in my head settle whenever she is near.

I should leave her alone. Instead, I find myself thinking about the next time I will see her.

My phone is already in my hand before I decide to make the call.

“Marvis.”

“Yes, Don?”

“Find out where Mara is going, what has her so worked up.”

There is a pause, and then—

“Don, you mean right now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Don. I will get someone on it.”

“Don't send anyone near her. I want information, nothing that makes her notice we're watching. Carry this task yourself.”

“Understood.”

I end the call. I don't even make it to the staircase before my phone rings again. My father's name fills the screen.

I answer. “Dad?”

“Come upstairs. Now.”

His voice is flat.

I glance toward the staircase, phone still pressed to my ear. Before I could refuse, the line goes dead.

Of course.

I put the phone away and head upstairs. My father is waiting for me in his study. He doesn't bother asking me to sit.

“Damian, the coronation is approaching,” he says.

“I am aware of that, Dad.”

“You don't behave as though you do.”

“I have more important things to deal with.”

His eyes drag over me, wearing that dark look that tells me he means business.

“The succession requires preparation.”

“The succession is prepared. That isn't a problem at all.”

“Prepared?” He scoffs and grips his polished walking cane, the silver handle catching the light. He moves toward his desk and picks up a folder.

“The Houses are expecting an alliance. This is important for your coronation as Godfather, and the family of Valenti is highly expectant.”

I look at the folder with utter disinterest. I already know what is inside.

“Serafina?”

“Yes.” He places the folder on the desk.

“The Valenti family has influence, territory, money, and connections we need. A marriage between you and Serafina would strengthen the dynasty before your coronation.”

I look at the folder without touching it.

“I don't want her.”

“This isn't about what you want, Damian.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Power.”

I laugh softly, slipping my hands into my pockets.

“Power? I don't remember lacking power, Dad. The Vescari name is standing strong today because I chose to rewrite history and dared to go into places where you never thought of entering. The blood on my hands? The battles I have fought? The victories I have brought home? Even the Valenti family doesn't come close. Check the records. We rank number one on every tier in this organization. The family's name has become a name people fear because I chose to carve my own mark.”

I pause, leaning closer to him.

“Power is exactly why you should know better than to try to choose my wife for me.”

His expression hardens.

“You may have made this family proud, and the whole inner circle and houses in this goddamn organization, but you are not above this family. You are its future.”

I cut in, holding his gaze, “And therefore, I decide what happens to it.”

His palm comes down against the desk, leaving a loud thud across the room. “You arrogant boy.”

I smile. “Dad, come on. I stopped being a boy a long time ago.”

“This marriage will happen whether you like it or not. You will marry Serafina.”

I step closer to the desk, my face so close he can feel my breath warm against his.

“Dad, you should know me by now. I am not a man you control with conditions or threats.”

“You are my son, and you will obey me. Why are you so stubborn? This position would be given to someone else if you don't join forces with the Valentis. Can't you see the help I am bringing to the table?”

I shake my head.

“Dad, I am only going to say this once. That seat is mine. I fought for it, blood and sweat.”

His jaw tightens. I ignore it and continue, my voice low but firm.

“And I, Damian Vescari, get to choose who I want beside me.”

“You think you can simply ignore the families?”

“I rule these lands. I rule the city. Even the families bow at the hearing of my name.”

His eyes burn cold now, his fists clenched so tightly it looks like he is about to punch me.

“And if I refuse to give you the throne?”

I smile.

“Then you should probably start looking for another heir after I clear everything under my name. I don't work for free.”

Silence fills the room. A wide smile tugs at the corner of my lips. My father stares at me in confusion, his mouth opening and closing without a word.

I turn toward the door.

“Damian.”

I stop, waiting for his next words.

“You are my heir. You belong at that table, and you will follow my decision. It's either my choice or nothing.”

I glance back with that soft smirk on my face.

“You need rest, old man.”

I leave before his temper can become a weapon, shutting the door behind me. By the time I reach the lower floor, my phone vibrates.

Marvis.

“Talk.”

“Don, I have an update.”

My steps slow. “About Mara?”

“Yes.” He continues. “Her mother was rushed to the hospital in an emergency. She's in the ICU. Don, it's really bad.”

My grip tightens around the phone. The hallway suddenly feels too quiet. I look toward the front doors again.

Mara's face comes back to me—the way the color disappeared when she heard the call, the way she ran like staying one more second could be catastrophic.

“How long now?”

“She was brought in a few hours ago.”

“And her brother?”

“They are all together in the hospital.”

I stare at the floor for a moment.

“Has the hospital started treatment?”

“No. Until the payment has been made, and the doctors need authorization for the next stage of treatment.”

“What? Doesn't the doctor know she's with me? Do they have a death wish?”

“Don, you gave the doctors and hospital management strict orders not to disclose who you are, so it's natural for them to hold back.”

I look toward the window. Outside, the city is already slipping into evening. Mara is probably sitting beside her mother's hospital bed right now, frightened and pretending she isn't.

“Marvis.”

“Yes, Don? Should I proceed with the plan?”

“Forge ahead.”

“Understood.”

I end the call, slide the phone into my pocket, and look out at the city.

“Mara, you belong to only me, and I have no intention of letting you go,” I whisper to the air.