Lahat ng Kabanata ng Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

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

Damon’s POV“You hear that?” I pressed my back against the cold steel wall. Smoke curled through the vents, red emergency lights strobing. The Thorne Estate had never looked more like a war zone.“I hear it,” Ariella’s voice came from behind me, calm. “Footsteps. Measured. Not a guard.”I tightened my grip on the tablet, tracking the estate’s failing systems. “Roe.”She didn’t flinch. She already knew.I led the way through the service tunnels, each step calculated. Smoke stung my lungs, but focus kept me sharp. Every sensor, camera, and automated lock Roe had tampered with screamed chaos, but I could see through it.Ariella paused at the secondary vault. “I can disarm it, but I need your eyes on the grid. He’s leaving breadcrumbs.”“I’ll cover the access points. You neutralize the trap.” Sparks flared briefly as she worked. “Done. That wasn’t just a lock. That was Roe leaving a signature.”“Psychological warfare,” I muttered. “He wants us rattled before the fight.”Ariella’s POV“Dam

Ariella’s POV“Damon, we don’t have time!” I hissed, ducking beneath a sparking conduit. “Every exit’s compromised. Layla, status!”“Temporary override,” came the sharp reply. “But someone’s feeding him intel. Could be Marcus… or worse. Watch your back.”He crouched beside me, jaw tight. “Then we move together. No splitting up.”He said “no splitting up” like it was a strategy, but the way he looked at me, I felt it anchor somewhere deeper. We’d been fractured in ways maps couldn’t chart, but something about his voice tried to stitch a tether back. Brief. Fragile. I didn’t let it hold.“Which way?”“Side corridor. Override will hold long enough to secure the cores.”“Cover me while I reroute the grid.”Sparks arced across the floor. “Down!” I barely dove behind a collapsed panel as automated turrets fired. That tension in his voice was protective and precise. I felt it was a strategy… or something more? No time. Focus. Survival first.Damon walked down the corridor. “This way.” Automa