THE VIDEO

Elena – POV

"Charlotte, I’m going to kill her.”

The fury in Damien’s voice was like thunder cracking open the walls of his office. His chair scraped against the tiled floor as he stood, fists clenched, shoulders taut with rage. For a second, he wasn’t Damien anymore he was wrath incarnate, pure, undiluted grief twisted into something sharp and dangerous.

I stepped in front of him without thinking.

“No,” I whispered, my palms pressing against his chest.

His heartbeat was a wild, frantic drum beneath my hands.

“Move, Elena,” he warned, his voice low, trembling not from fear, but fury. “I need to”

“No,” I repeated, stronger this time. “You can’t.”

He stared at me. For a breath, I didn’t think he saw me at all. His eyes were glassy, consumed by the image of his brother, by the sound of his voice saying “Adrian and Charlotte are the reason” but then they flicked downward, to the tears streaking my cheeks.

“Elena…”

I didn’t let him finish. I stepped back, wiping my eyes roughly with my sleeves, though it did nothing. The tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept coming, as if my body needed to rid itself of every ounce of pain it had absorbed tonight.

“Just watch the second video,” I muttered, barely holding myself together. “Please.”

He hesitated. I could see him trembling not from weakness, but from the battle inside him. Then, with a slow nod, he sat again. Inserted the second USB. His hand hovered over the mouse for a second before he clicked.

The video began.

The screen glowed with that grainy, shadowy footage. Damien’s expression changed almost instantly. From rage… to disbelief. Then back to rage, only deeper this time more personal. Adrian and Charlotte. His brother’s murderers, yes. But now? Now also his betrayers. Mine too.

He didn’t look at me until it was over.

When he did, I looked away.

I couldn’t handle what I saw in his eyes. Not just fury. But pain. Betrayal. Confusion. And something worse helplessness. We were two people surrounded by fire with no idea which way led to safety. Only deeper into the flames.

He said nothing for a long time. Neither did I.

Then, quietly, he whispered, “Let’s go home.”

The ride back was silent.

He didn’t ask questions. I didn’t offer explanations. There was nothing to say that hadn’t already been carved into our hearts. The city lights blurred past the windows, neon ghosts chasing the shadows inside the car.

When we got back to the house, I headed straight upstairs. I didn’t bother taking off my coat. I just walked to the window of my room and stared out into the dark.

But he came in.

I heard his footsteps before I felt his presence. He didn’t speak. Just closed the door gently behind him.

“I don’t know what hurts more,” I said finally, not turning to face him. “Knowing what they did to Lucas. Or knowing that the people who did it were the ones I loved the most.”

The silence behind me was heavy, like the pause before a storm breaks open.

“She was my sister,” I said. “My sister, Damien. And Adrian… I thought… I thought he was different. He held my hand and looked me in the eyes and told me he’d never lie to me.”

I turned around, and he was closer than I expected.

His face looked tired, hollowed out by the weight of the night.

“She was my brother’s lover,” he said, voice cracking. I moved toward him, slowly, like approaching an injured animal.

“You’re crying,” he murmured, reaching out.

His thumb brushed beneath my eye, catching a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“So are you,” I whispered.

Our pain blurred together at that moment. He stepped closer, and I didn’t stop him.

He touched my cheek, and I leaned into it.

His hand was warm, grounding. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the contact anchor me.

Instead, he did the most unexpected thing he wrapped his arms around me.

His embrace wasn’t gentle. It was fierce. Desperate. Like he needed the contact as much as I did. Like if he held me tight enough, the pain might stop.

I buried my face in his chest and sobbed.

Real, broken sobs that I’d been choking back for days, week’s months, even. He didn’t say anything. Just held me as I broke apart.

Time blurred. I don’t know how long we stayed like that.

Eventually, the tears slowed. My breathing evened out.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me.

His eyes were red but soft. Full of something that made my heart ache.

“Thank you,” he said. 

“You deserved to know.”

He nodded. Then, something shifted in his gaze. He leaned forward, just a fraction and I felt my breath catch.

I didn’t stop him.

His forehead touched mine, and I closed my eyes.

“I don’t know what this is,” he whispered. “But right now, I need it.”

“So do I.”

And then his mouth found mine.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t slow or sweet or orchestrated.

It was raw. Real.

His lips crashed against mine with the weight of every broken promise, every betrayal, every truth uncovered. I kissed him back with the same desperation, the same ache that had been building since the moment I realized we were the only two people in this storm who hadn’t lied to each other.

His hands tangled in my hair. Mine clutched the fabric of his shirt like it could hold me together.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.

Our bodies said everything words couldn’t. Every tear, every scream we hadn’t let out. Every name we couldn’t bear to say.

He pulled me closer, and lifted me slightly off the floor, as if afraid I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

I let him.

I let it all go.

His hand finds its way under my top 

“Damien” I moaned before I could stop it