Damian X Flatline Novels & Stories

“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…”

He had absolutely no breath left, so instead of yelling out in agony, he continued running. Damien ran for another minute before he was forced to slow his pace. The adrenaline had begun to fade, and the pain in his side increased. Coughing up a large gout of blood from his lung, he stopped. Looking back, he made sure the humans weren't going to try and come after him. Listening carefully for any sounds of running footsteps or worse, engines starting up, he tried to look back, but the blood in his right eye still hadn't cleared. Satisfied that he had no pursuers, he shifted his direction and headed for the creek that was about a mile away.

“Doctor. How is he?” He turned, kind but tired eyes meeting mine. “Are you his wife?” I opened my mouth to say no, because we were not, not yet, but the word that came out was, “Yes.” He nodded. “Come in.” I followed him inside, the antiseptic smell stronger now, mixed with blood and the faint beeping of monitors. Damian lay on the bed, pale and unconscious, an IV in his arm, an oxygen cannula under his nose. Bruises bloomed across his temple and cheek, his shirt cut away, bandages wrapped around his torso and ribs.

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.

He said. " Sir?" His assistant replied. Dr. Jude gave him a bombastic side eye and the man increased it, sending a higher wave of shock to Zeta. The monitor beeped loudly, the waves going haphazardly.There was a momentary pause and everyone held their breaths, watching the monitor as if it had the power to raise her from the dead. Damien hung his head, when the monitor refused to beep again. He stared transfixed at the monitor, and wished that the goddess did something. Zeta couldn't die. He wouldn't accept it.tyy

he said trying desperately to not sound stupid because Doctor Steiner had specifically told them to only call when it was a case of emergency or if she was showing signs or if they were noticing anything strange. " Damian she doesn't appear to be in any form of danger. I can't wake her up , if that is what you want me to do. secondly, you need to give her time to recover. " Damian nodded. Doctor Steiner was one who was capable of making him feel like a child. Soon enough , Linny was back with Lunch for Annalise. "why don't you just keep it and I'll join you soon enough" he said . Linny smiled inwardly. She could not deny that she too had missed intimacy with him. Life for her was equally ter

she snapped. "Yes o! If you have anything to say, you can say it right here," Charity added. Bright sighed deeply. "Damian, I’m here to apologize to you. Please, I know I’ve wronged you in so many ways, but I’m tired of this hostility for no reason. I want to make peace with you. Please, bro." His head remained down as he spoke. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. I couldn't believe I was falling for this act.

, I say quietly. “That was his bad, Amory”, says Liam. “I don’t give a fuck how rich you are, you’re more rare than that pink diamond on your neck! He should never have cheated on you, he doesn’t even deserve a second chance and he’s lucky you’re even saying boo to his ass right now”.

Sienna: The moment I stepped into the infirmary, I felt the shift in the air. I felt the weight that it carried, no matter how hard I wanted to deny it. It was subtle, too subtle, perhaps, but undeniable. Something was off. Damon stood near the bed, his back straight, his hands behind him in a stance I’d seen him use with board members, not with patients. His expression was unreadable. Focused. Guarded. I looked down at my feet, refusing to meet his eyes. After last night, I had expected him to come to at least apologize or spend the night with me, but I spent the night alone, even our daughter was in her nursery.