Then I felt it—an itch at the edge of awareness, something wrong.
When I sat up, the first thing I saw was the bed. Sheets rumpled from where Damian had been lying. They were icy to the touch, indicating he’d been gone awhile. Then I noticed the trail. A dark smear leading from the bedroom door across the pristine floor.
Blood.
My chest constricted as I scrambled out of bed, my pulse pounding loud and frantic in my ears. Barefoot, I followed the trail, my heart sinking with every step. It wasn’t a single smear but a collection of crimson droplets, stark against the pale floor.
“Damian?” My voice cracked as I whispered his name.
There was no answer.
I gripped the wall for support as I approached the bathroom door. It was ajar, and light spilled out, highlighting the blood trail that ended abruptly at the threshold.
I hesitated, swallowing hard against the panic rising in my throat. My mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. Had Evan found him? Hurt him? Killed him?
The thought turned my stomach, and I shoved the door open, bracing for the worst.
Instead, I froze.
The sound of running water filled the air, and through the glass partition, I saw him. Damian stood under the stream, steam curling around his broad shoulders and obscuring his face. He was alive. Whole. Unharmed.
Relief hit me so hard that my knees buckled, and I clutched the wall for balance. Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them.
“Damian?” I choked out, my voice trembling.
He turned at the sound of my voice, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine through the glass. His brows furrowed, and he pushed the shower door open, stepping out as water dripped down his sculpted frame.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone sharp with concern.
I couldn’t speak. My gaze dropped to his hands, slick with soap but clean. No blood. No wounds. Just Damian, standing tall and unshaken, his presence as commanding as ever.
He followed my line of sight, then glanced at the trail of blood leading into the bathroom. His jaw tightened, and something dark flickered in his expression.
“I’m sorry, I meant to clean that before you woke,” he said simply, as though that explained everything.
My stomach twisted, a knot of dread and disbelief tangling inside me. “Whose is it?” I whispered.
He stepped closer, his wet hands cupping my face as he studied me. “It doesn’t matter, Jade. You’re safe now.”
The weight of his words sank in, and I pulled back, shaking my head. “No,” I murmured, my voice rising. “You didn’t—”
“I did,” he cut me off, his tone unapologetic.
Just like that, my legs gave out. I stumbled, but Damian caught me, his strong arms anchoring me in place.
“You killed him?” My voice trembled, barely audible.
“I eliminated a threat,” he corrected, his gaze cold and unflinching.
My chest heaved, torn between relief and horror. He’d done what I couldn’t. I should’ve been glad, but yet, the weight of it settled heavily on my shoulders.
“I don’t know if I should thank you or hate you,” I whispered, tears streaming freely down my cheeks.
His lips curled into a dangerous smirk, and he leaned in, his voice low and possessive. “Thank me, Jade,” he said, his breath warm against my skin. “Because now, you don’t have a reason to run away from me.”
Something inside me snapped at his words—not fear, not anger, but surrender. The fight I’d clung to for so long crumbled under the weight of his devotion, twisted and dark as it was.
“Fine. I’ve decided. I hate you,” I murmured, though the words lacked any real conviction. My trembling fingers traced the lines of his jaw, my body betraying me as I leaned into his touch. “I hate you so much, it hurts.”
