Novelas y relatos de Damaged

Then, in a flash, he reached for his gun. But Victor was faster. A single gunshot rang out. Damian staggered back, clutching his stomach. Blood seeped through his fingers as he fell to his knees. He looked up at Victor, something like regret in his eyes. “I never wanted it to end this way,” Damian murmured. Victor’s expression was unreadable. “Then you shouldn’t have betrayed me.” Damian slumped forward, his breath fading. It was over. The Aftermath Back at the mansion, Olivia sat beside Victor in his office.

one of Damien’s men barked. I rushed to the entrance, my heart hammering against my ribs. Damien was slumped between two of his men. His body was covered in blood and it had marks on them. His face was swollen, there was a cut above his brow dripping blood down his cheek. His shirt was torn, revealing deep gashes along his torso. "Damien!" I gasped, running to him. He winced as I touched his arm. "I’m fine," he muttered, though he was clearly anything but fine.

The sheer force of the blast slammed Damion into the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. Pain lanced through his shoulder as he hit the floor, his vision swimming from the impact. Leonard groaned somewhere nearby, coughing through the thick, acrid smoke now filling the room. Damion’s head pounded as he tried to push himself up. The once-pristine office was in ruins—papers burned to ash, furniture overturned, debris scattered across the floor. Blood trickled down the side of his face, but he barely registered it. His ears were ringing loudly that he tried to stand up but staggered back down.

I finally asked. Damien grabbed a sheet of paper from the bedside table, skimming through it. "Uh... it says four broken toes on your right foot, hairline fracture in your right thumb, damaged muscle tissue in your right leg, your calf bone is broken in three places, two bruised ribs, and a bruised lung. Right side." Damn. That was twice as bad as I imagined. "So my right side is broken? Wow." "'Wow' isn't the right word. From now on, you're not allowed to save anyone. No matter what," Damien declared.

We rolled on the ground, over and over, dragged through the dirt. Damien tightened his arms, holding me protectively, shielding my head and my body with his arms and his own. Finally, after what felt like forever of falling and tumbling, we skidded to a stop. Damien was against the hard ground. He was covered in cuts and bruises but they already seemed to be healing. Thank the Gods for an Alpha’s strong healing factor. “Damien,” I breathed. His eyes were wild as he searched me over. “Are you hurt?” He tried to sit up, but he winced instead.

“Dammit!” smashed his mobile phone against the wall angrily.. Adrian stood like a statue at a corner not daring to make a sound to get on the bad side of the furious boss.. He quickly stepped aside when Damian threw his MacBook pro at him and it ended up smashing into pieces.. Damian was so furious as he threw things around and ended up breaking everything in his study.. “Calm down, sir, your wounds ain't fully healed yet..” Adrian tried to talk him outta smashing things but this earned him a vase being thrown at him..

Ronan’s hand followed, covering theirs both. The contact wasn’t ceremonial. It was messy and human and trembling in places. It was three people holding on. The air shifted again, as if the entity was recoiling from something it couldn’t pry apart with images. The illusions in front of them blurred, edges breaking down. Not gone. But wavering. Mirra felt the bond tighten—less like a wound, more like a stitch pulling closed. Their sacrifices still hurt. The ache didn’t vanish. It probably wouldn’t for a long time.

Like it had forgotten how to obey him. “What...” he rasped. “Why can’t I...” “Multiple gunshot wounds,” the doctor said gently. “Severe trauma. You lost a lot of blood. And there was neurological damage.” Damian’s heart hammered harder. “Am I...” His breath hitched. “Paralyzed?” The word hung heavy in the air. “Not permanently,” the doctor replied after a beat. “But movement will be… difficult. For now.” Damian stared at him, jaw clenched, eyes burning.

"Rouge pulled out, but Silvermoon's still desperate. They've moved up the investor presentation to next week. And Elena... Damien's been injured. Training accident, but with their medical situation..." "How bad?" "Broken ribs, possible internal bleeding. He's refusing outside help, trying to heal naturally. Kyle's basically running everything now." Elena closed her eyes, feeling echoes of mate bond she'd thought severed. Pain whispered across her consciousness, Damien's pain, distant but real. "He's still ours, even if he rejected us," Zara said softly. "The bond endures." "Book the jet. We're returning to New York tomorrow, then preparing for Virginia. It's time."

The pristine walls were splashed with water and torn petals, bleeding a deep, wounded red into the pale wood floors. But none of the physical destruction mattered. Nothing mattered except the man sitting in the dead center of the wreckage. Damian was slumped forward in the heavy leather armchair, his broad shoulders caved inward like a man carrying the crushing weight of a collapsed building. His crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned, ripped at the collar, and entirely ruined. His silk tie was gone. And his hands—his large, beautiful hands that had held her so gently, so reverently that very morning—were dripping with fresh, dark blood. His knuckles were split completely open, the skin torn