Chapter Eighty Seven

When I saw Damien for the first time, I thought he was scary, but the closer I got, the less scared I became of him.

Today, all that changed, because standing before me was not my Damien. No. He was anything but that. He walked towards me, not caring how many eyes were watching. I backed away.

“He escaped. You helped him escape!” He roared at me. I was scared of this man; my whole body wanted me to run, but that was a foolish move; he would still catch up with me. Soon he was close—so close I could perceive his scent—all covered in blood, some of it, his blood.

His hands trailed on my cheeks, but there was no look of affection in his eyes. I tried backing away, but then his hands went lower to my neck and wrapped around it.

"Damien, let me go!” I plead, but he is not listening. Slowly, he lifts me up, and his hands close harder around my throat. I choke. I struggle, but all my struggles are futile. A single tear slipped down my eyes. I remembered what had happened to his first mate—th