The Enemy in His Blood

"Your father isn't the only one hiding the truth."

Damian's words followed me even after the gunfire stopped.

Our driver swerved into an underground parking garage, and the pursuing SUVs raced past the entrance. Two armed guards hurried toward our vehicle as Damian stepped out, keeping one hand near his weapon.

He offered me his other hand.

I ignored it and climbed out myself.

"Who sent that photograph?" I demanded.

"We'll find out."

"That's not an answer, Damian!"

He turned toward me. "Would you prefer an answer I invent just to make you feel better?"

I hated how calm he sounded.

"Someone is threatening my family, my mother was probably murdered, and you expect me to follow you blindly?"

"No. I expect you to stay alive long enough to discover the truth."

Before I could respond, his phone rang. He answered, listened, and gave a single command.

"Bring him to the estate. Alive."

He ended the call.

"Who?"

"The man who followed us."

"You caught him?"

"My men did."

For the first time that evening, I felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps the person responsible for the attack would finally explain what had happened to my mother.

Damian noticed my expression.

"Don't expect the truth to come easily," he warned.

"Coming from you, that's almost funny."

His mouth tightened, but he said nothing.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at his mansion. Unlike my family's home, the estate was protected by security cameras, steel gates, and armed guards stationed along the driveway. The place looked less like a home and more like a fortress built to survive a war.

Inside, Damian led me into a private study.

"Sit."

"I can stand."

"Then stand."

He removed his jacket and placed it over a chair. Without the formal coat, he looked less like a businessman and more like the dangerous man everyone whispered about.

A knock interrupted us.

Two guards escorted a man into the room. His shirt was torn, his cheek bruised, and his wrists were bound.

Damian approached him slowly.

"Who hired you?"

The prisoner spat at his shoes.

Damian didn't react.

"Try again."

"Go to hell."

One guard moved forward, but Damian raised his hand to stop him.

"I'll ask once more. Who hired you to attack the Monteverde mansion?"

The man smiled.

"You're asking the wrong question, De Luca."

Damian's eyes narrowed.

"What question should I ask?"

The prisoner looked directly at me.

"Ask her what her mother was carrying the night she died."

My heart seemed to stop.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your mother discovered something valuable. Something your father helped steal."

"That's a lie!" I shouted.

"Is it?" The man laughed bitterly. "Ask your father about the ledger."

Damian stepped closer.

"What ledger?"

The prisoner's smile widened.

"The one Lorenzo De Luca hid before he died."

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then the man leaned toward Damian.

"Your father wasn't the honorable man you pretend he was. And your bride's family helped him build an empire on blood."

Damian grabbed the prisoner's collar.

"Choose your next words carefully."

"Why? Afraid you'll discover your own father ordered her death?"

I watched Damian's face.

Something changed in his eyes. His grip tightened, and for one terrifying moment, I thought he might kill the man himself.

Instead, he released him.

"Take him downstairs," Damian ordered. "Nobody touches him until I return."

The guards dragged the prisoner away.

I remained frozen beside the desk.

"Damian," I whispered, "did your father have my mother killed?"

He turned toward the window.

"I don't know."

"But you suspect it."

"I suspect everyone who benefited from her death."

His answer chilled me more than a confession would have.

I pulled out my mother's letter.

"She wrote that I wasn't a debt or a bargain. She knew someone would try to control my future."

Damian looked at the letter, then at me.

"Your mother understood my father's world better than most people."

"Then tell me everything you know about her."

He was silent for a long moment.

"When I was a child, your mother visited our house. She argued with my father. I remember hearing her say that a promise made under fear was never a promise worth keeping."

My throat tightened.

"Did she ever mention me?"

"Yes."

My breath caught.

"What did she say?"

Damian's expression softened slightly.

"She said you deserved a life untouched by our families' sins."

Tears burned behind my eyes. My mother had fought to protect me, even before I understood what danger meant.

"And now you're asking me to marry you."

"I'm offering you protection."

"At the cost of my freedom."

He stepped closer but stopped before reaching me.

"The marriage can be temporary. We can establish boundaries. You will have your own rooms, your own money, and the right to leave when the danger passes."

I studied him suspiciously.

"Why would the King of Darkness offer his bride an escape?"

His eyes held mine.

"Because I know what it feels like to have everything decided for you."

For the first time, I wondered whether Damian's cruelty was a shield rather than his entire nature.

Then his phone rang again.

He answered, and his expression turned murderous.

"What do you mean he's dead?"

I stood abruptly.

"The prisoner?"

Damian ended the call.

Someone had killed the only man who might have explained my mother's final hours.

He looked at me, his voice dangerously quiet.

"The man who attacked your family is already inside my organization."

Before I could ask another question, a guard rushed into the study carrying a sealed envelope.

"Sir, this was delivered to the front gate."

Damian opened it.

Inside was a single gold ring.

My father's ring.

And beneath it, a handwritten message:

The wedding must happen tomorrow, or Isabella dies next.