Damien Pip Novels & Stories

“This is insane! How are you not in prison?!” My voice trembled, but I shoved down the fear, stepping forward, eyes narrowing. “I know Alpha Steven can pull strings, but I saw you on the TV. There’s no way you walked out of that. What did you do, hire a doppelganger?!” Damien’s smirk was infuriating. He leaned in closer, too close, his breath hot against my face. His eyes gleamed, wild and untethered, like a man unraveling at the seams. “You were right,” he said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Damien said, his voice sounding incredibly soft yet terrifyingly hollow. The woman swallowed hard, her small hands clutching the edge of her dark robes as she tried to maintain her composure under his intense scrutiny. "My name is Jasmine, Alpha Damien, and I have served the secret order as the primary scribe for the last twelve seasons," she answered, her voice trembling slightly with an underlying fear that she could not entirely conceal.

He settled back into the sofa with the careful movement of a man minding his ribs, and his arm settled around me, and I felt the exhale of someone who had done something they'd been carrying for a while and was now letting the weight of it down. And I lay there in the dark behind my closed eyes and did not breathe too loudly and thought about what I had just heard. Damien had been looking for someone. For sixteen years. A girl. Under a name he'd given deliberately, a name that wasn't hers, so that the investigation couldn't be traced back to either of them. He had been paying a private investigator to look for a girl for sixteen years and had just closed the investigation because the investi

🌹 Damien 🌹 The underground safehouse was dimly lit, the harsh fluorescent lights flickering intermittently as the team settled into a rare moment of calm. The air was thick with exhaustion, the weight of their near-constant battle settling heavily on each member of the group. Damien leaned against a table, eyes closed, taking in the muffled sounds of distant gunfire and the steady hum of the bunker’s generators. It had been a long day—too long. The chaos of the mission still lingered in his mind, but for the first time in days, the team had found a brief window to breathe. They were alive. For now, that was enough.

Damien boomed his voice over the phone which startled Rojas in his seat. Damien was 26 years of age but his dominance was more than his age and he was feared by many people. He had a tough and rough childhood. His mother died of cancer when he was just 5 years old. His father always locked himself inside his room since his wife's death. He became lonely and soon fell terribly ill. He slipped into a coma and came out after four years. He was mute and on a wheelchair. Damien hated his father for not being there for him and protecting him as a child. Cian, his uncle took over and made Damien the ruthless demon he was today. He began to join the company at age 16 and under Cian's influence, he g

from Damien? A scowl twisted my lips as I thought of the man that had stolen Vivian's heart. Damien was dangerous, no doubt about that. But Vivian didn’t know that. She didn’t know the world she was involved in, didn’t know the kind of person she was surrounded by. **Damien Sullivan was a part of the Cosa Nostra**, and that meant he was a part of something far darker than she could imagine.

Damien was inside, standing with his back to me, staring into the fading light. He didn’t turn as I stepped in. “You’re quiet tonight,” he said. I swallowed, “Rough day”. “Another whistleblower went dark,” he said, his voice low. “The Fourth one in three months”. “Do you think it’s Viper?” Pause for a while, “I don’t know anymore,” he admitted. That, more than anything, made me pause. Damien Crest didn’t do uncertainty. But tonight, his armor was cracked. “Do you know who Viper is?” I asked.

I asked after pulling out of his hands, "Alex told me ho, w, "he said smiling. "You want to come in?" I asked Do you want me to come in" he asked staring into my eyes, I could feel my heart melt into his. "Yes, come on," I said. dragging him into the house, with a burst of happiness I never knew I had till now. We went into the house as my father looked at him with a little surprise on his face. "Good day Mr. Williams, I'm so sorry we have to meet like this, my name is Damian Anderson, he aid while exchanging pleasantries with dad.

"Who the hell would know you were here?" Damien grunted; he knew exactly who was out there, that asshole Scott. Somehow he had traced them to her house. He had sat up on the hill overlooking her back yard and had waited until his intended target stepped in front of a window. It only took her just a few seconds more to put it together and she cursed. What could she do to get them out of this crazy situation? Then she had it. "Damien, crawl down to the basement before you leave any blood on the floor. I'm going to call the Sheriff and report this."

Somewher‌e beneath those clouds, amid the smoke of a compromised safeh‍o⁠use and the wr‍eckage of our shattered escape pl⁠an‌, Damien was either a‌ pr‍i⁠soner or a ghost. ⁠​I refused to e‌ntertain‌ the‍ concept of t⁠he latter. Damien’s min​d was a labyrinth of⁠ defensive protocols; he wouldn't allow himself to be extinguished easily. He was likely playing for time, using‍ his kn‌owle​dge of t⁠he Vane‍ netw‍ork's infrastructure to keep Vic​toria’s ext‍ra‍ction teams from executin​g him on the sp​ot. He knew I had​ t‌he deeds. He knew that as​ lo⁠ng as those‍ documents were unverif​ied, the g​lobal banking syndicate was stuck i‍n a l‌egal par‌alysis. He was using his o‍w‍n l‌ife as the ul​tima