Damian Wayne Dies Novels & Stories

Damian's POV Alpha Damian was in the wolf fortress’s council hall, discussing territory disputes with some important tribal elders, when he got the news of my and my brother Liam’s "deaths." The wolf guard delivering the message shivered as he looked at the death confirmation rushed from the sanatorium, and the two "charred corpses" carefully faked by the Shadow Claws and sent back. "Alpha, Miss Seraphina and her brother Liam are confirmed dead. Do you… do you need to see them yourself?"

I read the same line again, eyes growing wide. According to the reports in my hand, Damian was dead, and he had been dead for years.

she says "He-he wasn't a-all so awesome," I tell her "Did you shoot him?" She asks "N-no, I came home f-from college and he was here," I tell her honestly. "He was already gone when you got there?" She asks "Y-y-yes," Mika wrapped her arms around my waist pulling my back against her I turned around to hug her as we continued talking to the operator, telling her everything we knew. Eventually, we heard police sirens coming, "I'm going to hang up now, okay?" The lady asks

“You did it! My brother is in a coma because of you! My family is in a mess because of you! Oh, and news flash? I didn’t kill Cleo. She’s alive…I spoke to her!” Damien’s smile grew, slow and dangerous. “You spoke to who I wanted you to speak to, Olivia. Cleo is dead. You killed her.” He turned to the reporters. “I won’t go into the details of what happened years ago. Not here. But I will say this…yes, people very close to me were involved in the shooting that left her brother in a coma. I was there that night. Wrong place, wrong time. I didn’t pull the trigger. I didn’t order it. I had no part in it. I was just a bystander too.”

"What you and Dr. Whitmore did out there… was incredible. I ruined everything. I never deserved you. "I know you're never going to forgive me, and I'm not trying to throw a pity party," Damian said, his words jumbled as he stumbled through his thoughts. "But I need you to know… I missed you every single day of those four years. "Back on that train, you weren't the only one who fell in love at first sight." I already knew he and Camille were over. The moment the live stream ended, viewers dug up their identities and dragged them all over the Internet. They trended for three days straight, subjected to endless criticism.

I wanted him to tell me where she was, who had hurt her, why her scent was faint, and how I would find her. Before I could form the question, before a second of strategy could click into place, Damian did something I did not expect. He drove his claws into his chest. It was gruesome and resolute. He tore his own heart out and held it up like an offering. His eyes closed. He gave a wet, ragged sigh and died. The pack around me gasped. I slapped the blade out of reflex and covered my face because shame is a bright, ugly thing. I should have done more. I should have found a way to keep him talking. I should have strangled answers out of him, chained him, used him. Instead, he sealed his mouth f

I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. Corin clears his throat. “Yes, Alpha. From our scouts in the western territory.” I arch a brow. “Damian’s lands?” He nods. “There was…an incident.” I gesture for him to continue, though my chest tightens. It’s always something with Damian. Raided borders. Sabotaged trade. Disappearing envoys. For twenty years, we circled each other like wolves with locked jaws, neither of us willing to back down. “He’s dead,” Corin says finally, voice low. “Someone killed him. Throat slit in his study.”

That laughter stopped the moment my men dragged him out of his seat. “What the fuck?” he barked, struggling against their hold. “Do you know who I am?” I stepped forward, adjusting the cuffs of my suit. “Yeah. You’re the piece of shit who’s about to regret ever crossing me.” Damian’s face paled slightly as realization sank in. He thrashed harder, but it was useless. My men shoved him into the back of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. His guards tried to interfere. They died for their trouble.

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.

They have not killed the people but they killed me in a way that takes my life away when Damian dies. Damian's death will kill me, from the inside like poison. A weapon that destroys the core first before reaching the vessel and that is exactly what will happen if Damian dies right now in front of me, which in time, with time, I will have to watch him take his last breath. Hear his heartbeat for the last time and then no more... The heart monitor will make that sound, the sound of an ending. An end to what should have been a beautiful life and when I think back to his upbringing, I shudder.