Damian X Flatline Novels & Stories

the doctors concern confused her. Damian was going to kill her why did it matter whether she was fine or not. The doctor and Damians parents left after they checked her vitals and everything seemed normal they would wait for the blood results to come back. Damian seemed to be concerned which was surprising to her, he looked a bit deep in thoughts like he had something troubling him.

Ben replied in a worried voice. “None of your business, just do what I said.” Damien answered him in a clipped voice which Ben was already used to, and cut the call short. 2 hours later, Ben called to say it was done and Cyrus had sent him an email attachment. A smirk quickly graced Damien`s face while looking at the background check documents. It was the thought of now finally knowing the name of the woman who had rocked his world and gotten him addicted to her. But her beautiful face on her latest picture, felt like it was mocking Him.

The call went silent for a while, and Damian ended it without saying anything to her. Alicia looked at her phone screen, sighed, and kept it. She started her car engine, then drove ahead to the hospital where she works in the city. After closing from her morning clinic, Alicia came out of the hospital building and felt someone's eyes on her. As she looked ahead at the parking lot, she was shocked to see Damian standing there dressed in black suit, speaking to the chief consultant doctor at the hospital. Damian wore a black tailored suit, his short black hair neatly combed and styled up in an afro look. His deep blue eyes met hers. His hands were by his trousers side pockets as he looked at h

he echoed. Their moment of solace was interrupted by a knock on the door. Liam entered, his expression grave. "Marcus, Clara. There's something you need to see." They followed Liam to the pack's infirmary, where Ethan lay unconscious, his face pale and bruised. Clara's heart lurched. "Ethan!" The pack's healer, an older wolf named Draven, looked up from his work. "He took an extreme blow to the head. He's steady, but not waking up."

“The words hit him like a ton She looked away. Damian hadn’t slept at the hospital. He sat in the same chair he had all night, elbows on knees, staring at the floor. His phone was silently in his hand. Aria hadn’t responded. Last night. Mila stood near the window, hugging herself. Her eyes looked swollen. They were red. Another doctor in white and bearing an air of importance had come into the Still nothing changes. Still in coma. Damian rubbed his face with both hands.

My mother was bleeding… I remembered the broken shelves and the words she just told me recently. Before I knew it, I started fighting Cassandra in the air. “Enough!” Damon yelled and struck her on the arm. Cassandra dropped to the floor, coughing. Damon rushed to Scarlett first and looked straight at her wound. “It’s not silver. She will heal.” Then he turned to me. He tapped my shoulders gently, bringing me back from that edge. “Annie, breathe. I’ve got you.” The anger left my body for a while. I hurried to my mother to hold her and make sure she was safe and doing well. Then, she smiled slightly at me. “I’m fine, my girl. Go and finish this.

Water pooled on the floor. Damian was on the bed. His hands were pressed to his head, his fingers digging into his temples, his eyes screwed shut. His mouth was open. No sound came out. "Damian—" Damian fell back. His head hit the matress. His hands did not move. His eyes did not open. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell, too fast, too shallow. Rowan grabbed his shoulders. "Damian. Wake up. Damian—" Damian did not move. His breathing slowed. His hands loosened. His face relaxed.

It was the first time he had touched her with anything other than cold calculation since her return. “He is a Kade,” Damian whispered, his voice a low, primal growl that sounded like a prayer and a command all at once. “He does not quit. Fight, Elias. Fight.” On the third shock, the flatline broke. A jagged, irregular rhythm appeared on the screen. The screaming alarm settled back into a rapid, frantic beep-beep-beep.

Trusting it means letting Damian gamble on it, and I have watched too many of my own certainties turn to ash tonight to be sure of anything I feel in the dark. Damian gets me down to the nursery floor and goes to his knees with me, one arm cradling my head off the boards, a silver-tipped autoinjector already in his other hand. His thumb works against the trigger guard. His eyes stay fixed on the readout strapped to my wrist that tracks the heartbeat under my ribs. The wrongness in his face is the thing that drags me the last of the way back into myself. I have seen this man order a wing erased without a change in his pulse. I have never seen him look the way he looks now, reading a flat line

he bowed, "it won't happen again." "Just check on her," Damien said, trying to calm himself down. He didn't want to do anything irrational, but it was getting difficult minute by minute. The pack doctor did a routine check up and prescribed some drugs for her. Which he made sure were injected immediately so as for it to start taking effect. "So, what's your diagnosis?" Damien asked impatiently, he was at the verge of tearing himself apart.