Novel & Cerita Damon Prison World Pancakes

He suddenly asked as I continued stirring the soup inside of the pot. "Hm? What do you mean?" I question. "Anything specific?" I look over my shoulder at him. "I guess... I like pasta, rice, and some other dishes." He hummed before nodding. "Oh ok… And?" He continued on questioning me. "Um.. I love pancakes and omelets…" "Pancakes?" He asked again. "Yes. When the orphanage went bankrupt, Cody brought me pancakes from a local bakery," "Who's Cody?" I felt my blood run cold and I kept my gaze on the pot I was stirring .

I ask him as I shoved a bite of eggs in my mouth. “The agenda?” He asked now really confused. “Yeah, are we going to hang out watching movies, eat popcorn or are you going to keep me locked in this room by myself all day?” I asked as I scraped some more eggs onto my fork. Damon looked puzzled and I could tell he was thinking hard about my request so I added, “If you’re worried I might try and escape isn’t happening. Having those two pups stole all my juice. My wolf couldn’t fight her way out of a wet paper bag.”

He ruffled Maurice’s hair on his way past, murmured something that made him giggle, and then his arms were around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “What are you making?” he asked, planting a kiss to my neck. I turned in his arms and kissed him before I answered. “Pancakes for you.” “Smells nice.” “I want to have some too, Mom,” Maurice called out, already halfway out of his chair. I laughed. “Of course.” Damon’s phone rang from pocket. He pulled it and glanced at the screen. Something in his eyes shifted before he looked at me. “It’s the police,” he said, already turning away.

Damien’s POV I turned back to the stove, flipping the bacon with a sharp snap of the spatula. A wicked grin pulled at my lips. She thinks she’s escaping me? Doll, you don’t even realize how deep you’re sinking. I poured the whisked eggs into the pan, the sizzle loud and sharp, and all the while my mind replayed her face when I pinned her, her breathless little whisper of stop, the way her knees nearly gave out when I bit down on her pulse.

"Extraction team is inside the warehouse now. We've got drone feed and body cams, but there's a lot of interference. Concrete walls, signal jammers. We're working on clearing it up." "Patch me whatever you have." The monitor in front of me flickered to life. Drone footage from above the warehouse—a sprawling industrial complex near the water, its loading bays dark except for the one Lila had disabled. From this height, it looked like a child's playset. I knew it wasn't. I knew men were dying inside it right now, and one of them was the man I'd kissed with broken glass at my feet and his blood on my lips. The body cam feeds were worse. Fragmented glimpses of concrete corridors, flickering flu

Damon pondered before answering, "It's been a while since I've had your pancakes. I'd like those." Lydia's face brightened. "Alright, I'll make them now." She headed to the kitchen, her steps noticeably lighter. Meanwhile, Damon grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into his bathroom to shower. When he emerged, Lydia had just finished placing a steaming batch of fresh pancakes on the dining table. "Mr. Sumner, the pancakes are ready. Would you like to eat now?" she asked. "Yeah," Damon replied. He sat at the table and had just taken a bite when Spencer arrived.

“I was hungry! And Mama said you promised pancakes today.” Rhian arched a brow, feigning innocence. “Oh? Damon Villareal, mafia king turned pancake master?” Damon grinned unashamedly, tapping their daughter’s nose. “For my girls, I’ll be anything.” Moments later, he carried their daughter toward the kitchen on his shoulders while Rhian followed behind, her robe tied loosely around her. It was still surreal for her sometimes—seeing Damon like this. The man who once commanded armies with a flick of his hand, who made entire rooms tremble with his presence, was now flipping pancakes in a kitchen. He wore an apron their daughter had made for him at school, embroidered with clumsy stitches that s

Alex rolled her eyes and turned her attention in ringing up the register from the waiters that are handing her the bill. “Hey, sweetheart!” Alex turned at the familiar voice and was about to throw back a sarcastic remark. She watched with her mouth slightly open as Damon approached the counter and took a seat on the stool, a few feet away from Zach. She noted that Zach glanced at Damon casually. The hell are you here as well? She thought, giving him a hard look. “Black coffee for me and the pancakes you usually make for me, love,” he added with a grin. He glanced and gave Zach a nod. “Your first time here, bro? You should try the pancakes she makes. They’re good.”