All Chapters of Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother : Chapter 21 - Chapter 25

Damon’s POVThe gala was a storm contained in crystal and gold. Thorne banners hung like silent sentinels. My focus was control. Every movement, every whisper, every handshake was data; someone new was testing boundaries.She wasn’t Ariella. Not tonight. The new operative, Freya, had slipped into my circle with precision. She laughed at the right moments, lingered in conversation, and carried herself as if she belonged. My instincts recognized the cut before it touched the skin.I watched her beside Nathaniel Roe, gray eyes, sculpted jaw, presence that commanded fear. Freya’s intrusion was unsanctioned. She didn’t flinch, didn’t stumble. Audacity made her dangerous.Marcus approached. “She’s on your timeline, sir. Someone’s feeding her information.”“Someone,” I echoed. Fear wasn’t an option. Control was survival.The lights dimmed as a speech began. I mapped exits, cameras, and guard rotations. Freya’s path intersected mine, a shadow on the periphery. She leaned toward Roe, whispered

Damon's POVMy car tires crunched on gravel as I pulled up to the old Thorne Estate. The silence there was heavy. It thickens with time, betrayal, and things we never buried deep enough. The iron gates opened at my fingerprint. That still worked. At least some legacies stayed loyal.I walked past statues eaten by moss and chandeliers hanging like relics from a godless temple. No nostalgia. No hesitation. I wasn’t here to remember; I came to cut out the rot.The great hall swallowed my footsteps in echo. Dust floated in shafts of dead light. My father’s study room door stood sealed, with a biometric lock, now useless. I dropped to one knee, sliced the panel with my blade, and rerouted power from my watch’s battery. The lock sparked. Clicked.I walked in. The room smelled of old leather and steel secrets. Shadows stretched across portraits of dead men who once thought themselves kings. I didn’t look up. They had nothing left to say. I crossed the floor, stopping at the northern wall. B

Damon’s POV“Don’t move, Damon.” Jace’s voice cut through. I didn’t blink. My hands hovered above her, useless, too slow to stop what had already happened. The pistol in Jace’s hand gleamed beneath the moonlight, and the look in his eyes wasn’t triumph. It was something older. Personal.“She was never yours to protect,” he said, stepping down the ridge. Each stride is deliberate. Measured. Calculated. Like everything he’d ever done in my shadow. I rose slowly, shielding Ariella with my body. My mind raced, assessing angles, wind, distance, and blood loss. But none of it mattered if she didn’t open her eyes. And Jace knew it. This wasn’t about legacy anymore. It was about the one thing we’d both pretended didn’t exist, love.Roe was hunting us. I could feel it, not just his presence, but his rhythm. He was a man who never missed, never rushed. Every second Ariella and I spent inside the estate was a countdown to impact. We weren’t being followed. We were being cornered.She kept pace b