Who is better

Damon, you are here… Antonia stammered in fear, while Damon nodded. Sensing her panic, he knew Antonia was up to something. And strangely, he felt compelled to find out what it was—something he could have easily brushed aside. It was her personal life, and he shouldn’t have been interested… but somehow, he was.

“Who was on the line? And who is this person that has just three days to comply?” Damon asked, raising an eyebrow.

Antonia swallowed nervously, trying to think of an excuse. She knew Damon well—knew how smart he was—and she had to say something convincing, or he would suspect her. Being suspected by him was the last thing she wanted.

Antonia quickly masked her fear with a nervous smile. “Oh, Damon, it’s nothing serious,” she began, trying to sound casual. “Just some friendship drama, you know how it is.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it. “Excuse—friend drama?” he repeated, his tone skeptical. “Who were you trying to convince, Antonia? Me or yourself?” His voice was calm, but his gaze was sharp, not missing a single detail.

Antonia felt her heart rate spike. She knew Damon wouldn’t let it go easily. “Yes, my friend,” she continued, forcing a chuckle. “She’s been stubborn about moving back home. I gave her three days to think about it, that’s all. I was just trying to be firm.”

Damon crossed his arms over his chest, his expression still doubtful. “So, you’re threatening your friend?” he probed. “It sounded more like a warning than a suggestion.”

Antonia swallowed hard, her mind racing for a convincing story. “It’s… a complicated situation,” she admitted, trying to find the right words. “She’s been living with someone who isn’t good for her, and I’m just trying to get her out of a bad situation.”

Damon tilted his head slightly, still watching her intently. “And this person she’s with—do they know you’re giving her this ultimatum?” he asked, pushing further.

Antonia hesitated, her hands trembling slightly as she fumbled with the phone in her hand. She could feel herself cornered by Damon’s relentless questioning. She needed to redirect his attention before he dug too deep.

“Why all these questions, Damon?” she finally said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Since when are you so interested in my personal matters?”

Damon didn’t smile back. “Since I heard you sound like you were in some kind of trouble,” he replied. “And I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”

Antonia’s heart pounded in her chest. He wasn’t going to stop until he got the truth. “Look, Damon, I promise it’s nothing you need to worry about,” she insisted. “It’s just a private matter.”

But Damon shook his head. “Private or not—you know I can help,” he offered softly, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity. “If there’s something you’re hiding, Antonia, I need to know. I can’t just walk away from this.”

Antonia bit her lip, knowing she was running out of options. She had to come up with something more convincing—or Damon would dig deeper until he found what she was hiding.

“It’s nothing, Damon. I’ll sort it out myself,” she said finally. “And besides, I’m one year older than you—don’t you forget that. I can take care of my troubles.”

Antonia smiled at Damon—a smile he could clearly see was fake. For a moment, he stared at her, and despite how much she tried to hide her discomfort, he could see through her façade.

But he decided to stop questioning her. “If you say so,” he said quietly. “I’ll take my leave.”

He turned to leave the garden, deciding to go to the gym instead.

Entering the gym, Damon removed his shirt, leaving him in his jeans. He wore his gloves and began punching the dummy, pouring all his emotions into it. Each strike was heavy, filled with frustration and confusion.

As he punched, he thought of Amara—and imagined what it would feel like to pour out everything to her. But he knew he could never do it. Keeping his emotions hidden was best. He had to stick to his promise.

“How long?” his wolf sneered at him. “For how long will you keep torturing yourself?”

Damon gritted his teeth but chose not to argue.

The door opened, and Damon was surprised to see Darius walking in. They exchanged looks before Damon turned away, focusing on the dummy again, punching more aggressively.

“I see that you are not in a good mood,” Darius said, stepping forward. “What’s happening to you, brother?”

Damon grunted and continued punching the dummy. Just as Darius was about to speak again, the door opened—and Amara walked in, carrying a tray of water.

She had seen Darius heading into the gym and thought he might need some water. But she hadn’t expected to see Damon there.

Damon, who had noticed her, abruptly stopped. For a moment, their gazes locked—but he quickly averted his eyes.

“You’re here,” Darius said, stepping toward Amara.

“Yes, I decided to bring you some water,” Amara whispered, her voice soft.

Damon growled inwardly, clenching his jaw.

Darius smiled at Amara’s gesture but noticed something—she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at Damon. Even though Darius was standing right before her, giving her his full attention, her eyes were fixed on his brother. Damon, who didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

The realization stung. Jealousy burned in Darius’s chest, and James’s words echoed in his mind—prove to her that you’re better than him.

A mischievous idea sparked in his mind. Maybe this was his chance.

“Damon,” Darius called out playfully, a smile curling on his lips. “How about a little combat? You know—for old time’s sake.”

Damon paused, his muscles still taut. He turned to face his brother. “You want to spar now?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Why not?” Darius replied lightly, but there was a flicker of challenge in his eyes. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll finally beat you.”

Damon’s mouth twitched into a faint smirk, recognizing the provocation. “I’m not afraid of you, Darius,” he said calmly, stepping forward. “But if you want to lose today, I’ll be happy to help you out.”

Darius’s smile widened, but inside, his determination burned. He wanted to prove himself—to show Amara, and maybe even himself, that he could be better. Stronger.

They moved to the center of the gym, clearing space. Darius bounced on his toes, loosening his arms, while Damon stood still, his gaze calm and unreadable.

“Ready?” Darius asked, his voice carrying a hint of eagerness.

Damon nodded, expression blank. “Whenever you are.”

Darius lunged forward with a swift punch aimed at Damon’s midsection. Damon dodged effortlessly, moving with fluid, almost lazy grace. Darius followed up with a jab, then a kick—but Damon continued to evade, his movements precise, controlled.

With each failed strike, Darius grew more frustrated. He attacked again and again, punches and kicks sharper, faster—but Damon didn’t counter. He dodged, parried, and stayed calm.

It was almost as if Damon was toying with him.

“Come on, Damon!” Darius panted, his voice edged with irritation. “Are you even trying?”

Damon’s lips twitched faintly, that same calm amusement in his eyes. He could see his brother’s intent—the need to prove himself, to prove something to Amara.

Finally, Damon left an opening. Darius seized it instantly, rushing forward with a powerful punch that connected with Damon’s jaw, sending him stumbling back to the floor.

Darius’s face lit up with triumph—but then his victory faltered. Damon met his gaze, and in his brother’s calm, unbothered eyes, Darius saw it—the truth. Damon had let him win.

“You let me win,” Darius said, his voice suddenly hard, the earlier playfulness gone.

Damon wiped the trickle of blood from his lip, his expression unreadable. “Did I?” he replied casually, though his tone held quiet challenge.

“No, brother,” Darius said bitterly. “You were better than me. You’ve always been better than me… in everything.”

Damon smiled faintly, pulling himself up to his feet.

Amara, standing at the edge of the room, watched the brothers, her heart pounding. She didn’t understand the depth of what had just happened—but she could feel it.

This wasn’t just a spar.

It was a storm of pride, love, jealousy—and something neither brother could put into words.