Older Damian Wayne Novels & Stories

“That cartel—Val de Oro—they only work by proxy. Quiet moves, strategic placement. They don’t announce. They signal. That card? It means ‘we’re watching.’ It’s never dropped unless it’s personal.” “But we didn’t touch them,” Damon said. “No,” I replied. “But Damian did. Years ago. Slaughtered two of their local handlers to scare them off. And now they’re crawling back through a side door.” Matteo swore under his breath. “They didn’t take anything because they didn’t need to,” I said. “They wanted us to find the card. They wanted me to know.” “Then why leave Adrien out of it?” Damon asked. “Why not just go after Damian directly?”

It melted my heart every time. I smiled as I watched them together, a strange ache blooming in my chest—a blend of pride, love, and a touch of longing. But there was still someone missing from this perfect picture. Damian had left three days ago to visit Silverclaw territory, checking in on how Luther was managing things, now that the transition of power was complete. Even though the trauma of the past lingered, Damian had made it a point to rebuild bridges and offer guidance when needed. It was who he was now: not just a mate, not just a father, but a leader of peace.

Sam found a towel nearby, bunched it up, and shoved it in Wyatt's mouth. Once that was done, Sawyer hit the speaker button. "There's nobody here. What's on your mind?" "Great, I'll cut to the chase. I heard that Damian just got crushed by you—nice work there. His brother, Wyatt, is with you right now, isn't he?" Sawyer said, "Yeah. I just found out he's connected to Damian, so I got him locked down." Torven kept his cool. "Here's my pitch. Damian called me earlier and wants me to mess with your company. We both know I could make that happen pretty easily. For you, that means watching everything you built fall apart."

“How lovely it is to hear your voice again” Damiens brow furrowed. “Is this the prick who collected your number yesterday?” “He's the prick who fixed my tires,” I whispered, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Are you busy today?” He asked. “Yes, why?” “Aww, that's too bad. I wanted us to meet up for a drink,” Wayne said. I gazed at Damien. “I'm sorry I'm a bit tight today “Can you at least squeeze me in?” he asked. “You owe me one, remember?”

he joked. A hushed giggle surged through my mouth, "Far out," I quipped. "You have a kink like that? Who would think that someone as reserved as you would like that? And don't worry, I will speak up for you," "Thanks," he replied. "So, about your question, I know Mr Blackwood can tell that the boy is being dishonest." Just then, my eyes moved to scan Arvall, who said, "The closest base Damian has is in Cheshire Avenue, Los Angeles. He is planning to strike tonight."

Damien paced restlessly around his room angry and frustrated. He had a bad temper which was almost impossible to subdue whenever triggered because of his wolf nature, apparently and also because he was Alpha. The rage, lust and anger that came with it was sometimes uncontrollable. That rage was taking its toll now on Damien with the thought of his parents’ murders constantly. He kept walking around from left to right and back around his room critically thinking of how to capture the Rogues’ Alpha.

Damien had the almost slumping Wayne supported by his hands crossed around the latter's shoulders. He let go of Wayne and the latter fell to the floor, groaning and rolling to his back. My eyes looked between the two before I hurried to Wayne, lifting his head onto my laps. “When I tell you this creature is weak, you shush me. Now look, Just a little run and he already lost it,” Damien mocked, obviously not any less concerned about his immediate elder brother's gasp for breath. My left hand flew to Wayne’s chest and I regulated his breathing by roughly rubbing on it. “Why did you make him run, Damien?” I chided, glancing up at Damien who now leaned on the window that I suspect must have had

All the eyes turned to Damian, waiting for him to defend himself. We expect him to curse Zack out—but he didn't. He stands there, froze. "See?" Zack started speaking again. "You're trying to protect Adrian, that makes you gay as f*ck." Zack's laughter thundered across the camp—but he stopped when Damian speak. "I'm not gay," Damian whispered. "I WILL NEVER BE F*CKING GAY!" Damian's voice roared—shaking the whole camp. Nobody said another word as Damian left, entering the forest.

He stutters on for a second longer, making gestures with long nimble fingers while he fakes breaking out in a cold sweat, “Um, we heard that you… your husband?” “We heard old wrinkles is dead.” Damien’s tone bears a tone of hardness and finality to it. He doesn’t find humor in the fact that he referred to my husband as old wrinkles, he doesn’t find it insensitive to say that in front of me, even if he did, he doesn’t care. All he is now is impatient, and slightly annoyed. A dumbass prick. “We’re taking you back to the pack Layla.”

Even Guardian Yvonne failed to understand, how they acquired such transformational powers, under the Watchers' nose. I kept going back to Chemora from time to time, to try and see if I could get inside, but somehow, I always got chased back because those Dark Mages never let go of a single opportunity of hunting us down. On the other hand, with every passing day, my dreams kept growing stronger. They became more and more vivid and it was almost always about my father. " This one was tough. " Xen dusted his hands off after we got rid of the Mage, located at the eastern cemetery.