Damian X Flatline Novels & Stories

But the quiet after the shot was stifling, a heavy weight of importance suspended in the air. And then I heard it. The hitch of breath, the low, agonized grunt. My gaze snapped to Damian. He crumpled back, his fingers digging into his ribs, clenching his side. Blood seeped through his black shirt, staining it a deep, dark red. "Damian!" I exclaimed, racing towards him. His eyes never dimmed, his jaw still set, his face contorted in a scowl, but he didn't collapse. He didn't stumble. Injured, he stood—lethal, unstoppable.

I found myself going after them and stood at a corner staring at them… Damian took his shirt off so the doctor could get a better view of his injury and surprisingly it was indeed a serious injury which truly required medical attention but there he was looking so cold and expressionless … He didn't flinch and sat straight as the doctor began disinfecting his injuries… In no time they were stitching it up and Damian still didn't flinch and made me wonder if he truly doesn't feel pain. Does that mean he won't feel pain even if he gets shot or got knocked over by a car?

He was at least better than the rest, but they all shared one common thing–NO FREEDOM. He covered his blanket head to toe and unwrapped the note his brother gave him.. and a deep frown courted his face at the first read: Damian is still alive but hospitalized. But he is as good as dead lying half-dead since the bullet ruptured his spinal cord. He barely can think or do a thing for himself. So, the complainant will be ruled absent from judgment in court. Don’t fret. That's our script. Do not plead guilty. Don’t trust any prison warder, 90% work for him.

“You’ll still need to give your statement, boss. They’ll have questions about the weapons, the men, the estate’s security....” “Handle it,” Damian says flatly. “I’m not leaving her side.” Hale nods once, no argument, and steps away to deal with the officers. I turn to Damian. His face is pale, streaked with dirt and blood, his knuckles raw. The adrenaline that kept him standing is fading fast. “You need a medic,” I say softly. “I need you,” he murmurs, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand. “That’s all.” My eyes sting. “You almost died tonight.”

"Hello, Damian." Damian stood in the doorway. His legs were shaking. His chest was tight. But he didn't run. He couldn't. Something had rooted him to the spot—rage, maybe, or the terrible satisfaction of being right. "You're not paralyzed," Damian said. His voice came out steady. He didn't know how. "No." "The stroke—"

Damian’s head rested weakly against the pillow, but his eyes were sharp as they moved between Raphael and Luna. The quiet hum of the machines filled the room as he gathered his thoughts. He took a slow, steady breath before speaking, his voice firm despite his condition. “Raphael,” Damian said, turning his gaze to his brother. Raphael straightened in his chair. “Yeah?” “I need you to do something for me,” Damian said. Raphael frowned. “What is it?”

The Alpha’s regret: the return of his mate Chapter 55 : THE FRACTURE HELEN’S P.O.V. The flight back to the forward operating base was a blur of rotor noise and the smell of copper. Damian lay strapped to a stretcher on the floor of the VTOL. His face was gray, slick with the cold sweat of shock. His chest rose and fell in shallow, hitching gasps. "Lung collapsed," the field medic a young Ironclaw wolf named Sarah shouted over the

It was another puzzle, another contradiction that Lina presented. Damian moved around the bed with quiet efficiency, his hands gentle as he began his examination. He was a tall man, with kind, tired eyes that had seen too much, eyes that held a quiet understanding of the darkness that surrounded me. He carefully lifted Lina's arm, checking her pulse at the wrist, his brow furrowed in concentration. He pressed a hand to her forehead, then to her neck, murmuring softly to himself. He checked her breathing, listening intently, his face grave. He gently lifted the bandage on her foot, inspecting the cut, then cleaned it again, his movements precise.

"Flatline's holding. Damien, you're closest to her. Pour everything in. We can't lose the spark now." Damien's tone broke raw. "Avery, damn you. I begged you not to drain that much. But you did it anyway. Now come back. Jax, Ezra, sync pulses. Match my rhythm. One beat. Two. Feel it? That's us dragging her heart back online."

“What’s wrong?” “I… I don’t know.” The monitor beside Damion’s body began to beep faster. Then slower. Then a long pause. Then—flatline. “No, no, no…” Carmela jumped to her feet. “Damion!” Doctors rushed in. Nurses followed. But then, before anyone could administer the defibrillator— The monitor beeped again. A steady rhythm. Damion’s fingers twitched. Then his eyes opened. And he spoke one word: “Carmela…”