The Billionaire and the Unwanted Heiress
Even as my cheek throbbed and my heart raced, I held on to one glimmer of hope—Damian wasn’t giving up.
And neither would I.
Nicholas paced back and forth, his gun loosely swinging in his hand, his smirk widening with each deliberate step. He was enjoying this—our helplessness, our pain.
He stopped abruptly, turning his gaze to Damian, who sat rigid in his chair beside me.
“Well, hero,” he sneered, gesturing mockingly at me with his gun, “why don’t you save her? Isn’t that what knights in shining armor do?” He tilted his head, feigning curiosity, before breaking into a fit of cruel laughter.