All Chapters of Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Ariella’s POVMarcus appeared on the secure comms, his presence heavy, precise, commanding attention. “I hear Jace has been visiting,” Marcus said, voice low. “Take his words at your own risk.” I stiffened. I had suspected Jace’s motives were layered. Marcus confirmed it. “Why now?” I asked evenly. “He seems cooperative. He offered intel, resources, even a task to prove loyalty.”Marcus’s laugh was sharp. “Cooperative? He doesn’t cooperate. He manipulates. Every gesture, promise, calculated concession, designed to bind, control, twist. Jace is more dangerous than Damon. Far more dangerous.”Damon’s ruthlessness was visible, predictable. Jace’s danger was subtle, insidious, threaded with patience and calculation. He was proactive in ways that could destroy before anyone realized it.“More dangerous than Damon?” I asked. “He doesn’t have the army, network, or reach Damon does. How?”Marcus’s tone darkened. “Damon’s limits are defined. Rules, lines, principles, flawed, but predictable. J

Ariella’s POVI checked the time on the wall clock in the living room, and the time was 03:42, too late for strategy, too early for peace. The low hum of the secure network filled the silence like a warning. I should have been reviewing sector infiltration patterns. Instead, I found myself preparing for something… softer, more dangerous.Something like Damon. He wasn't around, but his presence was felt. He moved like gravity, pulled things without force. How he watched you made you look chosen and studied all at once.And now that he’d started talking about family, about calm, about “building something with me”… I didn’t know whether to believe or analyze him. So I did both.I approached him tonight under the pretext of reviewing sector updates, professionally. But my steps were rehearsed. And every movement is deliberate. I had to measure every glance, every pause, every word. One wrong note and the illusion of control could dissolve.He entered the room minutes later, smiling like

Damon’s POVThe command center hummed with low energy, holo-maps flickering across walls, sector lines highlighting intersections of control and threat. Ariella stood nearby, analyzing intercepted transmissions, her focus precise, deliberate.My mother. Lady Valeria. I froze, the rare personal intrusion into my operational space demanding attention. The tone of her summons was deceptively calm, layered with authority that brooked no delay. Damon, meet me. Urgent. Private. Now.I glanced at Ariella. She did not speak, yet her presence carried its usual calm. I did not share the sender. Not yet. Some forces, even known allies, required management at the edge of perception.The ride to Valeria’s estate was quiet, the armored transport slicing through the fractured city like a knife. My thoughts churned between loyalty, strategy, and the faint thread of unease her summons had sewn. She rarely acted without calculation. Rarely moved without intent. This meeting would be no different.The e

Damon’s POV“I’m heading out for a business trip,” I said, voice calm, precise. “Sector oversight in New York. Two days. I hope nothing urgent is on your end.”Ariella’s voice came through the secure line. “Understood. Travel safely.” There was no hesitation, no warmth, yet the subtext carried… attention, alignment, and awareness.I should have been focused on the message blinking on my secure device. Ariella's signature was direct, urgent, and precise. I opened it, reading each word carefully, confirming alignment with operational reality, no discrepancies, and misdirection. “Just operational matters,” I said evenly, deliberately.Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Operational, or… personal?” The question hung between us, light but precise, like a scalpel testing bone. She knew the subtle signs, the micro-expressions that betrayed more than strategy ever could.I felt a faint shift in the jet cabin. Even at this altitude, in the controlled environment of glass and polished metal, the a

Ariella’s POV“You always stand like that when you’re overthinking,” Damon said from across the room. His voice was low, amused. “Arms folded, weight on your left heel, face unreadable.”I turned slowly, one brow raised. “And you always hover near whiskey when you’re hiding something.”Damon chuckled softly and held up his glass. “Tonight, I’m not hiding anything, like the type you think of, just… waiting.”The lights in the suite were dimmed. There were no terminals buzzing and no intel being decrypted. Just the quiet hum of night wrapped around a space that, for once, felt unguarded.I walked toward the window, letting the city lights draw silver patterns on my arms. “Why are we doing this?” I asked.Damon moved beside me, not close enough to touch. “You mean the war?”“No,” I whispered. “This, I mean us.” He turned, smirked, and retorted. ''You can say that again.'' I felt his gaze before I saw it. It was steady, careful, and penetrating. It is not Damon Thorne who interrogated m