Damian Wayne Dies Novels & Stories

I kept my hands folded in my lap as we drove, wondering what I had gotten myself into by agreeing to this. Inside the car, it was quiet for a long time. I finally broke the silence. “Tell me about your family.” Damien’s expression changed right away. “There’s not much to tell.” “I doubt that,” I said. After a pause, he started talking. “My father remarried after my mother died. Victoria is my stepmother. She likes control.” I smiled a little. “That’s your warning?” “No.” He glanced at me briefly. “This is. Answer only what you’re asked. Don’t volunteer information.”

Adrian seemed to have deliberately made himself forget. My Damian never woke up in the end. He died that winter. That little knight with the same gray-brown eyes as his, the child who'd cry in my arms in secret asking for his daddy, late one night more than two years ago, his heartbeat finally flattened into a single straight line. His cold, small body was buried in the cold ground, frozen forever at five years old. I said, Adrian, there's Damian's life between us. How could we ever be happy?

"He was in the water, but he was breathing, barely, and by the time I pulled him out he was terrified, out of his mind, saying Elias was going to kill him if he didn't disappear." The room kept tilting. "You let me bury an empty casket." "I gave him what he asked for," Damian said, and for once there was no calm left in his voice, just something raw and old and tired. "A staged death, a way out, in exchange for everything he had on Elias, on Seraphim, on all of it. He swore he'd come forward eventually, once it was safe, once he could protect you properly instead of from a distance." "And you just — went along with it? You let me grieve a man who was out there somewhere, alive, while I tore

It was like a dream I would never go back to. A week after the incident, the four men including Damian was declared to be dead. The car they were riding in exploded into a ravine. Burnt bodies were found there and the group was identified. I didn't hear much of it. Tita didn't even include me in the conversation. Maybe they are thinking it will worsen my mental health.

I rolled my eyes not ready for the glory distribution they were both on to. “Is mum aware?” I asked looking back at Damian, mum was definitely going to trace to wherever I was if she found out I was no longer tied up in the villa. “Don't worry nobody knows, I think you are dead at this moment” he said as he said into a cushion far into the room. “Dead” I looked back at Damian who had the same expression on his face. “You slit your wrist and you died” he blotted out as though things were that easy.

he laughs out. Damian’s eyes meet mine. We look at Andre. All three of us came to an understanding. This has nothing to do with Slade. This is an attack on Rowan Priest. “That’s that dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. You see you made one misjudgment when you attempted to kill on of our own. Though I have no problem helping clear things up for you.” Damian says he walks over. “Fazel you’re a dead man, no one is going to find your body as of today Fazel Amlo never even fucking existed. His parents dead… Your girl? Sahla Adams dead…” Damian runs his thumbs across his throat slowly for dramatic effect.

But I know the truth. They won’t bring him back. Dead on scene. The coroner’s report was clear. Blunt-force trauma to the chest. Shattered ribs. Organ damage. Broken neck. Traumatic brain injury. No chance. They ruled it an accident. Speed. Road conditions. A fatal miscalculation. Damion disappears from the screen without a word. He probably needs some air.

The man leaning casually against the doorframe was tall, sharply dressed, dark-haired with a smile that never quite reached his eyes. Cassandra’s shadow made flesh. “Dante,” Damien said flatly. Dante Westwood—alive, breathing, and standing in his office. The brother the world believed was dead. The brother Damien had buried without a body. “Miss me?” Dante asked lightly. Damien didn’t move. “You shouldn’t be here.” “And yet,” Dante replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, “here I am.” Silence stretched, thick with history. “You were supposed to stay gone,” Damien said.

“Last warning. Surrender now.” “Never!” Tommy sneered. With fury, he used the dagger he'd gotten from Nelo and stabbed himself twice. Damian and the rest did not move as they watched him collapse to the ground and shook with pain. It took him about ten minutes to take his last breath. Afterwards Damian gave the orders for his body to be moved. No one said a word about it as it was done and the place was cleared of his remains and scent. His death was never mourned nor would he be acknowledged as an Alpha in the history recordings. Damian swore to make sure of it.