All Chapters of MY SAVING DOOM : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

54 Chapters

WHEN DOOM FOUND ME

I hated nights like this.... You know... The type where everything goes wrong and life feels like it is laughing at you. My feet hurt from standing all day, my head pounded from my boss yelling at me like I was his personal stress ball, and my phone battery had decided to give up on life before I even left work. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. “Nice one, Nanya,” I muttered to myself, kicking at a loose stone as I walked. “Star employee of the year, walking home broke, tired, and phoneless. Living the dream.” The shortcut I took wasn’t smart I knew that. Everyone warned about this alley, let's be real anyways, has any of them been here, do any of them even care, what if I get robbed or killed, would it even affect any of them, I think it would just be less burden on them. Now that I think about it, I really am taking a big risk walking down here, but the longer way meant another thirty minutes, and at that point, my bed was worth more than my safety. I told myself it was fine. People

THE BURNING EVIDENCE

The morning sunlight attacked me like it had been waiting all night for this exact moment. Right through my thin curtains, stabbing me in the face like I’d personally offended the sun. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head. Not today. Please not today. But the second I shut my eyes, last night came rushing back. The alley. The men. Him. And that voice, low and final: “Doom has begun.” I sat up so fast my pillow hit the floor. My heart thudded against my ribs, too loud for morning. No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. Men don’t glow. They don’t fling people across alleys like paper. And glowing tattoos? Yeah, okay, sure. Except... My wrist throbbed. I yanked up my sleeve like I’d catch it in the act. The mark stared back at me. Glowing faintly in the daylight, warm under my skin, alive. I laughed. I cried. Then I laughed again, because apparently I was losing my mind. “Of course,” I muttered. “Glowing wrist. Why not? Add that t

MY PROBLEM NOT MY CHOICE

By the time I dragged myself out of work, I was a walking corpse. The café had chewed me up and spit me out, the boss glaring holes through me every time I breathed too loud, and customers treating me like Siri with legs. My whole body ached. My brain begged for sleep. But the mark on my wrist burned. It had burned all day under the apron, a steady pulse of heat like a second heartbeat I didn’t ask for. Every time I looked at it, the glow seemed stronger, sharper, like it was daring me to forget what had happened. I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets and kept walking, muttering under my breath. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Totally fine. Just another day in the life of Nanya: underpaid, overworked, and apparently cursed. Lovely.” The city buzzed with traffic and neon lights, but I couldn’t shake the weight pressing on my shoulders. That prickling sensation, the one that makes you feel like someone is staring at you. Naturally, considering my experience last night, you'd think I w

AND IT WASN'T JUST A DREAM

I woke up drenched in sweat. Not the kind from a warm blanket or a bad nightmare that fades the moment you sit up. No, this was the clingy kind that glued my shirt to my skin and made me feel like my own bed was trying to suffocate me. My sheets were twisted around my legs like I had been wrestling with an invisible enemy all night. My chest rose and fell too fast, and the pounding in my head matched the racing beat of my heart. I didn’t need to ask why. I already knew. The dream. It was fuzzy around the edges, but certain fragments stayed behind, sharp as broken glass: the glow of my wrist, a dark alley, a man with eyes like carved crystal, lips too close to mine. The kind of dream that didn’t feel like a dream at all, more like a memory replaying itself in cruel high definition. And the humiliating part? My body had liked it. My pulse still hadn’t calmed down. My lips tingled like they’d been almost touched. My thighs pressed together on instinct, and I hated myself for it.

THE TASTE OF DAMNATION

(Damian’s POV) Her body went slack in my arms. The glow from the mark still pulsed violently against my palm, branding me through her skin. She was burning from the inside out, trembling as if she’d been dropped into the center of a storm she couldn’t see. Pathetic mortal. Fragile. Breakable. And yet, the way she felt pressed against me made my control fracture in ways it never should have. I should have let her fall. I should have let her collapse onto the floor and writhe until the flare passed. But no, my arms had moved on their own, holding her tight against me, cradling her as if she were something I cared for. Her scent filled me, warm, faintly sweet, threaded with the tang of fear and desire. It drove me mad. I bent my head, inhaled once, and hated myself for it. This girl would be the end of me. She stirred, her lashes fluttering. When her eyes cracked open, she realized where she was against my chest, fists curled into my shirt like I was her lifeline. She trie

THE MORNING AFTER

Woke up feeling like I’d been dragged through fire. My entire body ached in places I didn’t want to name, my lips were sore, and my wrist... God... my wrist was still glowing faintly in the morning light. For a long moment, I lay there, staring at it, daring the silver shimmer to fade. But it didn’t. It pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, alive, taunting me with the memory of last night. For a second, I tried to tell myself it wasn’t real. That I had dreamt it up, maybe from exhaustion, maybe from the stress of juggling too many responsibilities. People didn’t just wake up with glowing tattoos from mysterious, rude gods who kissed like sin. Right? Except my body betrayed me. The soreness, the heat lingering under my skin, the ghost of his touch, all of it screamed reality. Every shift of my legs reminded me I hadn’t imagined Damian, or the way he had pinned me like he owned me. The way he whispered the thoughts I was too afraid to say out loud. Damian. Even thinking his nam

CRAVING TROUBLE

The bathroom mirror still held my reflection hostage. Pale skin, tangled hair, lips too tender, and that silver mark on my wrist pulsing like a brand I couldn’t erase. For one terrifying moment, I swore I felt him there. Damian’s presence pressing against me, unseen but overwhelming. But when I blinked, the air was empty. My apartment was just my apartment again. No storm-eyed god lurking in the shadows. I shook it off. I had to. I had work. Rent didn’t pay itself, and neither did groceries. By the time I stumbled into the office, I was already half an hour late. My heart pounded as I slid past the reception desk, bracing for my boss’s voice booming across the floor. But the desk was empty. No boss. No scolding. Just blessed silence. I almost collapsed with relief. “Thank you, universe,” I whispered under my breath. By the time I slid behind the counter, my nerves were strung so tight I thought I’d snap. At least my boss wasn’t around to add to it. Small mercies. “Wow,” C

BREAKING POINT

The grocery bags were heavier than they should’ve been. By the time I reached Mom’s apartment, my arms ached, my shoulders screamed, and the plastic handles had carved red grooves into my fingers. I shoved the door open with my hip, and the familiar chaos smacked me in the face. The TV blared too loudly from the living room, kids were screaming over something stupid, and the sharp tang of bleach mixed with frying oil burned my nose. “About time,” Mom snapped before I could even set the bags down. She stood in the kitchen doorway, a dish towel slung over her shoulder, eyes narrowed like I’d just committed a crime. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? What if we’d starved, Nanya? Do you even think about anyone besides yourself?” The bags hit the counter with a heavy thud, the plastic crinkling as if mocking me. “It’s groceries, Mom. Not a kidney transplant.” Her glare cut sharper than any knife. “Don’t you get smart with me. I asked you two days ago. Two! But you’re always to

TOO CLOSE

I should have known Claire wouldn’t let it go. By the time I dragged myself behind the counter the next morning, she was already there waiting for me, leaning against the register with the biggest cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. “Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, sipping her coffee like she was about to deliver world-shaking news. I narrowed my eyes. “What did you do?” She batted her lashes innocently. “Me? Nothing. Well… unless you count saving your love life.” My stomach dropped. “Claire.” “Relax!” She waved her hand like I was being dramatic. “It’s just a date. You’re welcome.” “A date?” My voice cracked. “With who?” “My cousin’s friend,” she said proudly. “Ethan. He’s tall, works construction, ridiculously hot. Honestly, I’m doing you a favor.” I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “Claire, I told you...” “You told me you’re obsessed with a guy you shouldn’t want,” she interrupted, smirking. “So obviously you need a distraction. And what better distraction th

FORBIDDEN WORTH

The night air cooled my flushed cheeks, but the burn in my wrist never faded. “You’re trouble,” I laughed nervously, shoving Ethan’s chest when he leaned in too close. “The best kind of trouble,” he teased, eyes dancing. I rolled mine, backing away. “Goodnight, Ethan.” “That’s not a no to tomorrow,” he said, grinning like a wolf. I forced a smile. “We’ll see. Second date, maybe.” “Maybe?” He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You’ve already made my week.” I shook my head, laughing despite myself, before finally turning toward home. Every step away from him made the mark on my wrist throb harder, hotter, like punishment. By the time I slipped inside my apartment, my chest was tight with confusion. I pressed my back against the door and sighed. “What am I even doing?” “You’re making a mistake.” The voice froze me mid-breath. Low. Cold. Familiar. My head whipped toward my bedroom. My heart dropped. Damian was sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning back casually,

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