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Confronting his father.

Author: Mk
last update publish date: 2026-04-21 05:07:59

The hospital hallway was empty at 3 AM.

Damian's footsteps echoed off the linoleum. Sebastian walked beside him, close enough that their arms brushed. The burner phone was in Damian's pocket—evidence, proof, a weapon. Carla had been taken to a different floor by hospital security, still crying, still begging for a second chance. Damian didn't give her one.

Room 412 was at the end of the hall. The door was closed. The light was off.

"He knows we're coming," Sebastian said.

"Let him."

Damian push
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  • Own You.   Final face off

    The knife clattered across the ice, spinning in a lazy circle before coming to rest against the boards. Alex lay face down, his arms twisted behind his back, Sebastian's knee pressed between his shoulder blades. The whole thing had taken less than three seconds—the lunge, the deflection, the disarm, the pin. Sebastian's body had moved on instinct, the same instinct that had kept him alive on the ice for a decade.Damian stood frozen, his arm bleeding, his heart hammering. The paramedics had bandaged him, but the gauze was already soaking through, crimson blooming against the white."Don't move," Sebastian said to Alex. His voice was low, steady, dangerous. "Don't even breathe."Alex wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing. His face was pressed against the ice, his eyes squeezed shut, his whole body shaking with silent sobs. The knife was ten feet away, gleaming under the moonlight.Police sirens filled the air. Red and blue lights flashed through the broken windows. Doors slammed. Boots po

  • Own You.   Betrayal

    The door to the abandoned rink slammed shut, but Alex didn't leave.Damian heard his footsteps on the concrete floor, slow and deliberate, circling back toward the ice. Sebastian's arms were still around Damian, holding him upright, but his body had gone rigid. His eyes were fixed on the shadow moving along the boards."Alex," Damian said again. His voice was hoarse, broken. "Please. Just go.""I can't." Alex's voice echoed off the walls. He stepped into the moonlight that streamed through the shattered windows. His face was pale, his eyes wild, his hands still shaking. "I've been watching you for years. Waiting for you to see me. And you never did."Damian pulled away from Sebastian. He stood on his own, his legs unsteady, his heart pounding. "You rigged the vote."Alex's jaw tightened."You bribed the ref."Alex didn't deny it."You hired the journalist. You sent the bullet. You kidnapped Sebastian." Damian's voice rose with each accusation. "You tried to destroy us."Alex's face cr

  • Own You.   Trigger

    The hospital discharged Sebastian on a Tuesday.The doctors had done all they could. The swelling on his brain had gone down. His memory was still patchy—gaps here and there, moments that didn't connect. He remembered Damian's name. He remembered the championship game. He remembered the stick splintering. But he didn't remember the blood oath. He didn't remember the abandoned rink. He didn't remember the night Damian had begged him to hurt."He needs triggers," the neurologist had said. "Places, smells, sounds—things that might unlock the memories trapped in his temporal lobe."Damian had nodded. He had thanked the doctor. He had helped Sebastian into the car and driven him home.The apartment was the same. The same couch. The same kitchen. The same bed where they had slept together for months. Sebastian walked through the rooms like a stranger, touching things, trying to remember."This is ours?" Sebastian asked."Yes.""I don't—" He stopped. His brow furrowed. "I don't remember livi

  • Own You.   Amnesia

    The first day was the hardest.Damian sat in the plastic chair beside Sebastian's bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest. The machines beeped. The IV dripped. The bandages on Sebastian's head were white and clean, stark against his pale skin. His eyes were closed. His breathing was shallow.The doctors had done their tests. CT scans, MRIs, cognitive assessments. The verdict was the same each time: moderate traumatic brain injury, swelling on the temporal lobe, temporary memory loss. The word temporary was the only thing Damian held onto."He may not remember recent events," the neurologist had said. "The memories could come back in days, weeks, or months. Or they might not come back at all."Damian had nodded. He had thanked the doctor. He had walked back to Sebastian's room and sat down in the plastic chair and not moved for six hours.Sebastian's mother brought coffee. Alex brought food. Detective Morrison brought updates—no leads on the kidnapper, the bullet, the note. Damian

  • Own You.   Abduction

    The ice felt like quicksand under Damian's skates.He couldn't move fast enough. Every step was a struggle, every breath a battle. The crowd was screaming. The security guards were shouting. The police were running. But Damian's legs wouldn't cooperate. He was stuck in a nightmare, watching the world spin without him."Sebastian!" he screamed again.No answer.The tunnel. The tunnel was the only way in or out of the ice without going through the stands. Damian pushed off, his skates digging into the frozen surface, his body moving on instinct. He reached the tunnel entrance and stumbled inside.The lights were still off here—emergency backups flickering weakly, casting long shadows on the concrete walls. The air was cold and smelled of stale beer and fear."Sebastian!"A sound. Faint. A groan.Damian followed it. The tunnel curved, opened into a wider hallway near the locker rooms. A utility closet door was half open. A body lay on the floor.Sebastian.Damian dropped to his knees bes

  • Own You.   Threat

    The police returned the next morning with news that made Damian's blood run colder than the ice he played on."Ballistics confirmed it," Detective Morrison said. She was a tall woman with short gray hair and eyes that had seen too much. "The bullet you received matches the gun used by Paul Vance—the journalist who shot at you in the parking lot."Damian leaned against the kitchen counter. Sebastian stood beside him, his hand on Damian's lower back. "But Vance is in jail," Damian said."He is. Has been for weeks. No visitors. No phone calls except to his lawyer." Detective Morrison flipped through her notebook. "Someone else has his weapon. Someone who got to it before the police did.""A accomplice," Sebastian said."Or someone who paid off the right people." Detective Morrison looked at them. "We're investigating. But I need to ask—do you have any idea who would want to hurt you?"Damian and Sebastian looked at each other."Damian's father," Sebastian said."His lawyer," Damian added

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