Page 68 of Claimed By the Damned

Something is wrong. She won’t tell us what it is, but I’ve noticed she’s been sick. Not just tired, but physically sick. She’s using it as an excuse to keep her distance.

Bastian, predictably, is watching. Quietly. But don't mistake quiet for passive. He watches her like a hawk studying its territory, cataloging every flinch, every averted gaze, every hollow excuse she gives. His usual calm is tighter, strained around the edges. For a man who thrives on control and providing structure, Lila retreating from his established care, from the safety he meticulously provides as her Dom, is not just puzzling—it's a breach in their dynamic.

His mind's working overtime, you can bet, dissecting everything, searching for the cause. I can almost see the questions burning behind his eyes: Is she hurt? Testing boundaries? Or worse, is she genuinely pulling away fromhim, from the dynamic meant to keep her safe? That last idea? I see it hit him—something coils cold and sharp behind that unnerving stillness.

Ryker’s less subtle about his frustration. The other night, he tossed a pillow at her door and muttered, “Bet I could break that lock.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t even inside.

And then there’s Grim.

He's always been protective of her, but this? This is different. He’s a goddamn shadow, trailing her every move, nudging her hand when she zones out, watching her more closely than usual. He knows something. He knows, and it’s eating me alive that I don’t.

I’ve cornered him about it twice now. The first time, he just shrugged, muttered something about 'women being complicated,' and switched the subject to weapon maintenance. The second time, he gave me that flat, unreadable stare. "Ask her yourself, Mercer. Not my place." Shut down. Completely. Just confirms it—he's covering for her. Knows something, damn it.

I’ve tried talking to her directly. God knows I've tried. But every time, she slips through my fingers with some excuse. “I’m just tired, Ethan.” “I need some space.” “It’s nothing, really.”

No fucking way.

Not like she's trying to hurt us, but sheislying. Something's crushing her, and she’s carrying it alone. And that? That cuts deeper than I can admit.

I’ve spent my life making sure the people I love don’t have to carry burdens alone. First Theo. Then the guys. And now, Lila. Especially Lila.

So why won’t she let me in?

The house feels too damn small with all the space Lila’s put between us. I can’t take it anymore.

I find her outside, standing on the back porch, arms wrapped around herself, as if holdingeverythingin. Behind me, I hear the heavy footfalls of Bastian and Ryker, both of them watching, waiting. The night air is cool, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s staring out at the darkened yard, lost in thought, lost to me.

Enough.

“Lila.” My voice is quieter than I expect, but she still flinches as if I’ve caught her doing something wrong. When she turns, her face is carefully blank. Too careful. Her eyes flick over my shoulder, catching Bastian and Ryker standing in the door, watching us.

“What’s going on?” I ask, stepping closer, giving her space but making it clear I’m not letting her walk away from this. Not again.

“Nothing.” Her voice is a whisper.

Bullshit.

“Angel,” I try again, softer this time. “Please.”

She shakes her head, looking away. “I just… I need some time, Ethan. That’s all.”

No. That’s not all. That’s not even close to the truth.

I step in, close enough that I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s holding herself like she might shatter if she lets go. “You’ve been sick,” I say. “You’re barely eating. You won’t look me in the eye. And I can’t—” I cut myself off, exhaling hard. “I can’t help if you won’t let me.”

She makes a strangled sound, half a laugh, half something broken. “You can’t fix everything, Ethan.”

That’s when I see it. The flicker of devastation in her eyes before she schools her face into something unreadable. The way she subtly shifts, bracing herself.

She’s scared.

Not of me. Ofthis.

And then it clicks.

I don’t think. I reach for her hands, and this time, she doesn’t pull away fast enough. I feel the tremble in her fingers before she rips herself back, wrapping her arms around her stomach protectively.

Oh.

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