Injustice 2 Damian Wayne Novels & Stories

Jack Royce turned back to see him, Elliot. "Any news." "No Boss."Came his response sharply. Jack sank his teeth into his lower lips, feeling frustrated. His cheeks were flustered red but he decided not to show how agitated he was at the moment. *** Damien arrived in Las Vegas through a train which was coming all the way from the Northside. He saw, also read the news about the attack on his powerhouse. His fist clenched against into ball of fury, how dare them? He roared in his heart.

Damien moves with terrifying authority, his steps light and predatory, as if he has orchestrated this specific violence a hundred times before. Wayne lunges, swinging a heavy fist aimed at Damien’s jaw. Damien doesn’t block; he simply isn’t there when the arm arrives. He pivots, fluid as water, and sweeps Wayne’s legs out from under him. Wayne hits the ground with a heavy thud that vibrates through the soles of Aiden’s boots. Before Wayne can recover, Damien is on him, a knee pressed into Wayne’s chest, pinning him to the dirt.

Damian shook his head, adjusting the gloves on his hands. "Don't worry; I'll go to them," Damian said, nodding to the warrior, who then led him to Jake and his squad. Damian followed and saw Jake's team, sweaty, and some still in their wolf forms. "Jake, what's the report?" Damian asked as he approached. He noticed a rogue tied to a tree, injured—clearly, there had been a struggle.

“Not exactly.” Sienna’s pulse pounded in her ears. She crouched next to Julian, her fingers brushing over his shoulder. “This is Damian, sweetheart.” Julian blinked up at him. “Like Damian Wayne?” he asked. “From Batman?” Sienna almost laughed—almost. But Damian’s expression softened slightly. “Something like that,” he said quietly, kneeling down to Julian’s level. “Hi, Julian.” The moment was surreal. Damian Cavendish—man of steel, ruthless CEO—kneeling on polished wood floors, face to face with a five-year-old boy.

“Tell me you are okay Vanessa I cannot lose you” “I'm fine” I panted. He sighed. “I'm coming” “What? No! I don't want anything to happen to you, umm wait,911 will get here soon I will let you know what hospital we go to” “911?!” “I'm fine Damien. Wayne got shot in my stead.” I swallowed hard. “He took a bullet for me.” There was a loud crash as an object flew right through the window, shattering the glass. My brow creased.

This works and Damian is calm, ignoring the fat man in front of him. "Damian please can you continue telling me what you were saying?" Maya asked when the officer was out of sight. "I came home feeling frustrated and I ended up getting drunk," Damian paused and stared at Maya for a reaction but she just urged him to continue. "That's all I remember... I woke up the next morning with her beside me," Damian sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Trust me Wife, I'm innocent. I think someone is trying to frame me," Damian said dejectedly.

"Mr. Wayne, we're here to discuss the recent death of Damian. We have some questions we'd like to ask you." Sebastian's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm sorry to hear about Damian's passing," he said, his voice dripping with insincerity. "However, I'm not sure how I can assist you. If you have any inquiries, I suggest you contact my lawyer." Lark chimed in, his tone measured. "We understand your perspective, Mr. Wayne, but given the circumstances, we believe it's important to gather as much information as possible."

“I could hear her cracking through the phone speaker. Cynthia fucking broke.” Damian didn’t stop. He drove another brutal combination into the bag—fists, elbows, a vicious knee that made the chains rattle violently. Sweat poured down his broad shoulders and back, soaking his gray training shirt dark. “You expected her to stay brave without her lawyers shielding her?”

“Your food is expensive, and also, you hide salt like it’s contraband.” They laughed. Jonah had sent a quick text: All proxies collapsed. Two arrests. Court date set. Beatrice had a list of restitution items. Victoria had already drafted a short public statement to close out the matter. Things were moving through the wheels of the world. Damian reached across the table and touched her hand with both of his. He had stopped wearing the armor he once favored; his sleeves were rolled up, and his neck was open. “If you let me in,” he said softly, “I will never take you for granted again.”

* Damian slipped the phone back into his pocket and sat down in the chair beside the bed. He would wait, watch, and gather evidence. And when he had enough, he would strike. No mercy. No forgiveness. Just justice.