Damien Thorn South Park Novels & Stories

DAMIEN She falls asleep in my arms within minutes, exhausted from the emotional and physical toll of the day, but I don't sleep. I lie there holding her, thinking about everything that happened today—the board meeting. Marcus's trap and the video are going viral. My phone buzzes quietly. It's a text from Sebastian: "You need to see this." A link to a news article. "TIM WARREN SPEAKS OUT: 'Damien Cross Is Not Who You Think He Is.'"

“I heard he’s hiding something. That’s why he doesn’t shift in front of us. Probably ashamed of something I heard.” Someone else snorted. “More like he’s got a small dick. That’s what I heard.” Laughter erupted. I froze. Damien covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. “Don’t you dare,” I hissed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clearly not sorry. “That one caught me off guard.” “They’re talking about me,” I growled. “That’s not funny.” “It kind of is.” “I will hurt you.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Jokes aside... they’re obviously not fans.”

“Of course, I’ve thought about it. But his words felt…” “Felt like what?” Thorin snapped. “Felt real? Felt sincere? Since when does Damien deal in sincerity?” “He didn’t have to say that,” I said quietly. “If he wanted to rile me up, he could’ve said anything else. Why this? Why plant doubt about my own people?” Thorin was silent for a beat, then spoke again. “Because it’s working.” I flinched, hating the truth in his words. “Lucien,” Thorin continued, his voice calmer now, “Damien’s a snake. You can’t trust anything that comes out of his mouth.”

So that he could have his father`s small company associated with Payne enterprise. I could already see big dollar signs shining in his eyes as he grovelled up to Damien. “Oh Jones enterprise. Tell your father that i will never do business with him.” Damien replied bluntly, “What why?” Greg asked looking baffled, “I already know of how your company is drowning in debt and busy selling fake products to your customers. I do not get associated with Trash companies.” Damien replied, leaving Greg spluttering speechlessly and red faced at having been called out. And oh how sweet my cotton candy was now tasting as I watched all this smugly.

I nod and we head for the park. "My dad passed away two years ago and since he was the breadwinner and mom was the housewife we struggled to make ends meet. I hadn't finished school so Michael paid for the remaining semesters and I managed to graduate from high school. I met Michaela in my junior year before dad passed away. I saved her from being gang-raped by these other kids from school so she paid my tuition saying she owed me her life and we became good friends. A few months later, dad passed away, mom started getting involved with this man named Ron, he is a drug addict; I tried to tell my mom that he was bad for her but Ron had a tight grip on her she couldn't even see it.

he said “Yeah, not really, I mean uhmmm… it’s complicated” “I understand” he said “Do you know him” she asked “Yeah and his leviathan friend” he said and she was surprised, how did he know Arnold was a Leviathan? ‘How... What do you mean?” “I mean be careful with the Leviathan guy?” he said “What do you mean by that? Who are you?” “Just call me Damien” “Ok, Damien how did you know that?”

"Mr. Volkov? Ms. Thorne? I need to get your statements. We have the perpetrators, but we need to understand what happened here." Damian didn't turn immediately. He held me for another moment, a silent declaration in the chaos. When he finally looked at the detective, the gentleness he’d shown me vanished. His face hardened into a mask of cold, aristocratic fury. The vulnerability was gone, replaced by the formidable Damian Volkov, a man whose wrath promised consequences far beyond anything the NYPD could deliver.

“They were family.” Damien sat with perfect, aristocratic posture despite his torn black shirt and crimson-flecked eyes. “Damien Crowe. Graduate student. Pure-blood vampire. I drove a silver blade through my sire’s heart tonight. The man who gave me this cursed existence… called me his greatest pride.” A bitter smile touched his lips. “Now I’m alone in the bloodline.”

He spat back. Damian let out a crazy laughter, his response cold and insulting. "Ohh sorry, my bad." His eyes sparked with malice, "it too bad you pretend to mourn Sarah but we know what you were doing behind the scenes huh. Using the opportunity to have a threesome with both mother and wife." Ray's anger boiled over as he punched Damian in the face. Damian's face fell back as he let out a creepy laughter afterwards. "Wasn't the gravesite a perfect spot?" Damian asked once more.

Was the man real, or just a fictional character created by Julian Thorne? Damian reached for his phone and dialed a number in the middle of the night—a private detective who handled the darkest cases for Manhattan's elite. The next morning, the atmosphere at Sheina’s hotel was thick with tension. Julian Thorne entered her suite to find her standing on the balcony, overlooking a Central Park beginning to yellow with autumn. "Damian has made his move, Sheina," Julian said softly. "My contact at Xavier Tower says he took a DNA sample from your glass last night."