All Chapters of The Billionaire Alpha's Sin Bin: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

 (Damian’s POV)The night we spent in the shared bed was not restorative; it was devastating. I hadn't slept. I had merely existed in a state of hyper-aware containment, my body's natural heat overriding the sophisticated climate control of the penthouse, all of it directed toward the man curled against my back. Waking up to the scent of him, the feel of his soft, steady breathing against my shoulder, was the final, brutal proof that my control was not merely compromised, it was surgically removed.I am a failure. I am allowing a revenge plot to take root within my own fortress. I am risking everything I built for the temporary, agonizing peace of holding him.Now, I was seated at the head of the confere

(Damian’s POV)The memo detailing Julian Blackwell’s "Exemplary De-prioritization Target" was a corporate atom bomb. The fallout from Logan’s counter-revenge was immediate and devastating: an emergency halt to a massive Titan acquisition in Asia, a five percent market dip in eighteen hours, and an immediate, hostile audit of all historical HR practices. Logan had hit me where I lived, not in my heart, but in the structural integrity of my entire empire.I sat in my home office, the windows opaque with external security filters, the lights low. Logan was in the kitchen, making tea, his presence a constant, searing point of distraction. He had betrayed me with ruthless calculation, yet the memory of his desperate acceptance in the pantry—"I am always yours, Damian"—stil

(Damian’s POV)The silence of the penthouse was a dangerous weapon. We hadn't spoken since I pulled Logan out of The Syndicate, ignoring the stares and the cameras. The private elevator ride up was a lesson in controlled mutual destruction; I was rigid with unspent, violent possessiveness, and Logan stood beside me, radiating a quiet, smug defiance that was a direct result of the date.He had challenged me in public, forced my hand, and made me look like an animal—a wild creature who couldn't leave his toy on the table. And I had just returned from the Ritual of Strength, still aching, still smelling of the mud and the dark, primal world I had to inhabit to maintain the illusion of my power.I secured my dominance over the pack. Now I must secure my dominance over the one man who makes the pack irrelevant.I drove him straight into the master suite, the room where the line between us had already vanished during the blizzard. I didn't turn on the main lights, leaving the room illuminat

(Damian’s POV)The "Temporary Truce" was a delusion, a paper-thin agreement we had both signed in the desperate aftermath of the triple-date catastrophe. Logan was currently being the perfect, obedient asset: he was in the private gym, following the physical therapy regimen for his wrist with meticulous discipline. He hadn’t looked at my stock tickers, hadn't mocked my corporate jargon, and hadn't mentioned Julian Drake once.He was focused entirely on winning the championship, and I was focused entirely on keeping my company afloat after his latest leak and preparing for the brutal, ancient business of the Pack. Our agreement allowed us scheduled, aggressive release in the master suite, a way to burn the tension down to ash so we could function. But even that measured exchange felt like playing with nitro.I stood just inside the closed glass door of the gym, watching him. He was on the stationary bike, face damp with sweat, the brace on his wrist stark white against his tanned skin.

(Damian’s POV)The cold was a relief. The warehouse, a sprawling, forgotten space near the river docks, smelled like concrete dust, stale water, and distance. It was miles from the polished tyranny of Titan Tower, miles from the sterile perfection of the penthouse. This was where I had met Elias an hour earlier, where I had proven—with pain and blood—that my title as Alpha was still absolute.I leaned against a thick support beam, my muscles screaming in protest. The 'Ritual of Strength' was never clean. I wore a simple black tee and jeans, the fabric hiding the fresh, livid bruises across my ribs and back. The physical exertion was nothing compared to the quiet dread that had brought me here, to this secret, isolated spot.The scent. The shattered glass. The chaos must be contained, or it will consume us both.The plan was simple, brutal, and codified in our temporary truce: meet, burn the tension, restore the control, and return to the corporate lie. This wasn't about tenderness. Th