Damian X Flatline Novels & Stories

“This isn’t your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself.” They sat like that, the silence broken only by Zara’s trembling breaths. In his office, Damian sat hunched over his laptop, his eyes fixed on the grainy footage Christian had sent. The timestamp ticked across the corner of the screen as he watched Jaxon fight—throwing punches, holding his ground like the soldier he was. But then, a brutal blow to the head sent him staggering. In the next moment, masked men dragged his limp body toward a waiting van.

There was only her, the rhythmic beep of the monitor, and the unbearable quiet between heartbeats. --- By the time dawn broke, the rain had stopped. The city outside began to stir — headlights cutting through mist, people starting their day as if the world hadn’t just fallen apart. Inside the ICU, Damian hadn’t moved. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the back of Amara’s hand. “Stay with me,” he whispered. “Please.” The monitor beeped steadily — proof that she was still here, still fighting. For the first time in his life, Damian Cruz prayed.

My frown deepened as I studied him from head to toe. “Look at you. You’re hurt,” I said softly, unable to mask the worry in my voice. “Can we do something to heal your wounds?” Damien shrugged, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But I’m sure these wounds will pass.” As if to emphasize his point—or perhaps contradict it—he suddenly collapsed onto the cold ground. My breath hitched as I watched his eyes flutter closed. “Damn,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “My job is getting harder now for some reason.”

“I thought my personal life wasn’t any of your concern.” A brief silence followed. Then Damien replied calmly, “At the moment, I’m less interested in your personal life than I am in whether you’re safe.” His answer caught me completely off guard. It wasn’t the cold calculation I had come to expect from him. I found myself telling him everything including the fake nurse, the attempted injection, the arrest, my father’s whispered warning. Damien listened without interrupting, his silence attentive rather than dismissive. When I finished, he said only one sentence. “Stay where you are. I’m coming.”

My screams of agony are silenced as if I've been gagged. "Haley! Hold on!" I hear Damian shout out. But when I look up, I see he hasn't so much as blinked. I didn't understand what was going on. My eyes growing tired from the extreme blood loss. "Haley! Hold on! You can do this! Fight! Fight for us! Fight for Maverick. Fight for Sienna." I hear Damian say to me. I feel my eyes grow heavy, making it impossible to keep them open any longer. "Damian." I weakly reply as my eyes close, and everything goes black.

“That’s because of the bullet that severed one of your coronary arteries. It should've been painful, but I'm so glad you don't feel any pain. I’m also very glad that you're back, buddy. We thought that we'd lost you. In fact, we did, for a couple of minutes, before you bounced right back to life.” “What did you expect? Death knows that I'm no punk,” Damian gloated, an expected remark that made all of them roll their eyes once again. “Anyway, I have to go check on some other patients. Damian, I advise that you don't strain yourself too hard. If you begin to feel too tired, just let them know so they'll let you rest. Don't try to force yourself beyond that, okay?” Damian rolled his eyes. “I wa

The light swallowed him, warm and quiet and final. And then... Pain. Violent. Crushing. Relentless. Something dragged him back. Her hands. Her voice. Her refusal. “Don’t you dare,” she was saying. “Don’t you dare leave me...” The darkness cracked. Damian gasped.. And the machine beeped. Once. Then again. Beep. Beep beep. The flat line jumped. A jagged spike tore through the monitor. The room froze.

I stood frozen on the sidewalk as Rico approached. “Problem?” he asked. “More of them,” I said quietly. “They’re still coming.” Before he could reply, my phone rang again. This time it was the clinic. I answered fast. The nurse’s voice was shaky. “Miss Moretti… Damien just flatlined again. We’re trying to bring him back but… it doesn’t look good.” The world tilted. I dropped the phone.

Damian cradled Vivian in his arms, utilizing his super speed to transport her swiftly to her house. Despite his healing blood having mended her wounds, Vivian still felt a lingering exhaustion and weakness. The realization that she could have perished had Damian not intervened kept her in a state of lingering shock. Gently, Damian placed Vivian on her bed, tucking her in snugly with a soft duvet. "You need to rest now," he whispered, his voice tender as he affectionately patted her head, his gaze locked with hers.

Damien growled, his face contorted, and his canine protruded; his eyes flashed a dangerous reddish color. A pain-filled cry surrounded him, and his eyes narrowed as he glanced around to see everyone was on their knees. Except for Mark. No, he was using every of his strength to stop him from falling to his knees. Damien was freaking more than a hundred years old. He was an alpha, and he had commanded a response that everyone must obey. Mark believed the curse had intensified it as well. Damien frowned, his eyes shifted around the large gathering that had fallen to their knees.