Page 41 of Secrets Of Blackwood

Her laugh is sharp, meant to cut deep. “Oh, please. You’re just a scared little boy playing at being a hero. How long until you break, I wonder?”

His hand squeezes mine, a silent promise that no matter what ghosts from his past are called forth, he won’t let them dictate our future. “I won’t break. Not anymore. I have something worth fighting for.”

“Love?” Victoria almost chokes on the word, disgust twisting her elegant features. “That’s your anchor? It’ll sink you, Damien, drag you down until you drown in your own weakness.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, gray eyes burning with a fire that wasn’t there before. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. For her, I’ll face anything you throw my way.”

I watch, my heart hammering against my ribs, as Damien squares his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full, imposing height. In this moment, he is the embodiment of strength, a fortress built not from stone and mortar, but from sheer will and undying love.

“Then you’re a fool,” she spits out, her control slipping as her composure cracks like thin ice underfoot.

“Perhaps,” he says, his gaze never leaving hers, “but I’m her fool. And I’ll die before I let you harm her.”

The room seems to pulse with the weight of his words, the very air charged with the power of his declaration. And though we stand on the precipice of danger, with Victoria’s malice hanging over us like a guillotine blade, I am unafraid. Because in this desolate room of half-shadows and whispered threats, I have found my sanctuary in the fortress of Damien Blackwood’s arms.

7 - 8

The moment shatters, a cataclysmic break from the tension that had held us captive. Victoria lunges, her movements viper-quick and laced with venom. But Damien is a storm, tempestuous and untamed, as they collide with the brutal grace of clashing titans.

I can barely breathe, my body trembling, not with fear but with the raw intensity emanating from Damien. His muscles coil and flex beneath his shirt, each movement a testament to controlled power as he blocks Victoria’s advances. It’s like watching a dance choreographed by nature itself—violent, beautiful, unpredictable.

“Damien!” I cry out, though my voice is lost in the cacophony of grunts and the shuffling of feet against the cold floor.

“Stay back, Lily!” he commands without looking at me, his attention never wavering from the adversary before him.

Victoria strikes with precision, aiming for weaknesses only she knows, yet each time she meets the immovable force of Damien’s resistance. He parries with the expertise of someone who’s known too many battles, his body weaving through the air with an agility that speaks of dark nights spent honing these very skills. Each exchange between them is a sentence in the story of their intertwined pasts—a tale of love turned to enmity.

“Is this all you’ve got, Vicki?” Damien taunts, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin that sends shivers down my spine. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts, fogging the air with the heat of the fight.

She snarls back, frustration etching deep lines across her flawless features. “You’ll regret underestimating me!”

But even as she speaks, Damien sidesteps her onslaught, using her momentum against her. His hand shoots out, fingers locking onto her wrist with an iron grip, twisting until she stumbles forward. Her face contorts with rage and pain, but there’s no mercy in Damien’s hold.

“Never,” he spits out, every syllable dripping with a lethal promise, “put your hands on her.”

“Damien, be careful!” My own hands are fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I watch the man I love fight a battle that feels like it was always inevitable.

He doesn’t answer, but his jaw clenches tighter, a silent reassurance that he’s as aware of the stakes as I am—that he won’t let anything happen to either of us.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” Victoria hisses, trying to regain control, but it’s clear who holds the upper hand now.

“Only when you learn your place,” he growls back, his eyes never leaving hers.

Their struggle is a symphony of violence, a crescendo building towards an unfathomable climax, and I stand on its precipice, torn between the urge to flee and the desperate need to stay—to witness—to support. The bond that ties me to Damien is forged in fire, unbreakable even by the harrowing winds that now seek to tear us apart.

“Go, Lily,” he finally says, his voice a low command that slices through the chaos. “I’ll handle this.”

“Damien—” My protest dies in my throat, strangled by the certainty in his gaze.

“Trust me,” he insists, and in those two words, I hear everything we’ve left unsaid—every promise, every whispered vow, every silent pledge made in the dark.

And so, with one last lingering look, I turn and run, my heart a drumbeat echoing his name, praying that the fortress of Damien Blackwood will withstand the tempest long enough for us to find refuge in each other once more.

9 - 10

Damien’s POV:

I can feel her weakening, every labored breath she takes syncs with a desperate thrum in my veins. Victoria’s icy exterior begins to crack under the pressure of my relentless assault. I twist her arm behind her back, the muscles in my own arm bulging with the effort. Her scent, a blend of anger and fear, fills the air, but it’s her eyes that betray her most—a storm of defeat gathering in their depths.

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