Damaged Svu Novels & Stories

~Sandra’s pov~ Of all the people who could have walked into that club on the worst night of my life, it had to be fucking Ryan Hale! Not a stranger. Not some random person who wouldn't know my face from a magazine. No, it had to be the one man in the city who could destroy my reputation and dismantle everything I was trying to save with a single phone call, and he was standing right there in front of me with that arrogant, slow, cutting smile that had always made me feel like he could see straight through every wall I'd ever built around myself.

Eyes on the road. Jaw set. Bleeding from a cut on his forehead. "Why are you doing this?" she asked again. "Because I said I would," Damien said. "That’s it?" Damien glanced at her. "No. That’s not it." He didn’t say more. POV: MARCUS He cut through an alley. Lost one car. The other was still there. He pulled his gun. Fired at the tire. Hit. The SUV spun. Crashed. "One down," he said over comms.

I need him more than ever. My phone buzzed with a breaking news alert: **BLACKSTONE BOARD VOTES TO OUST DAMIEN AMID SCANDAL** The world tilted. My world felt like it was all crashing down and coming to an end. Damien found Sylvia in her penthouse, lounging on her white leather sofa as if she hadn't just orchestrated his downfall. A glass of Barolo dangled from her fingers, the deep red liquid catching the afternoon light like blood. "You lying conniving b*tch." His voice was dangerously quiet.

Rachel stood there, her tactical vest torn, blood on her face from a cut above her eyebrow, but alive. "Is he—" Ava started. "Dmitri Volkov is in custody. Shot but alive. He'll live to stand trial." "Your team—" "Three wounded, none critical. Carmen took a bullet to the shoulder but she'll be fine. Maria is shaken but unharmed." Ava emerged from the safe room, still clutching Ethan. The bedroom was destroyed—bullet holes in the walls, shattered glass everywhere, the smell of gunpowder heavy in the air. But they were alive.

The city blurred past us in streaks of neon and rain. Damian’s foot never left the gas, the SUV weaving through traffic like a bullet. My eyes stayed glued to the live feed on my phone…..; the technician in the white coat standing in front of the cryogenic tank, holding the small vial labeled with Damian’s name and the date of that Vegas night. Ten minutes. That was all we had. “Faster,” I whispered, even though he was already pushing the car to its limit.

Everything, was falling back into its place. *** "At least you didn't have a boring life without me," "Sarah don't you dare, without you, everything fell apart. Literally." I say. "What ever happened with, you know who," "Suicide." I mutter. "He killed himself, thinking I was already gone." "Okay, let's stop with all the sappy stuff, let's leave the past in the past, yeah?" "In with new, out with the old," We all say in unison. "Evening ladies," I turn my head and make eyes contact with familiar brown eyes.

“This isn’t about her. It’s about me. You want me? Here I am.” “Shut up!” Sasha jerks Vivian back, closer to the edge. Her boots scrape the concrete, one heel slipping dangerously close to the drop. My throat closes. “Don’t act like you’re the hero. You don’t save people, you destroy them. You destroyed me!” Damien’s voice cuts in, low, sharp. “Sasha. Look at me. Don’t do this.” “Don’t you fucking talk to me!” she screams. She presses the gun harder against Vivian’s head, and Vivian whimpers. My nails dig into my palms so hard I feel blood.

I placed my hands on Damians bloody chest, trying so hard to manage his bleeding as blood gushed out uncontrollably out of his chest. “Why did you do that?” I said in tears to Damian, why did he have to come in front of me before the bullet went out. “Freeze” I heard this baritone voice from the entrance of the room but didn't care to look, my attention was fixated on Damians bleeding chest. “I didn't do anything, I swear” I heard Sylvia said, as I looked up at her with an eyes blaring fire. “Call 911” I screamed out to the police who just walked in

Jessa let Damien draw her back into the hut. Jessa was sitting beside Damien in a private lounge in LAX while Damien’s private plane was refilled. She glanced up from her magazine to look at the television screen, just as a news bulletin came on. She froze, shocked by the picture that appeared on the screen. She grabbed Damien’s arm. Damien turned to her. “Jessa, what is it?” “Look,” she said, raising a shaking hand to point at the TV screen that was showing some news footage of Victor from a few years ago. Damien stood and grabbed an attendant who turned the volume up.