Page 24 of Sticks & Serpents

My breath caught in my throat. The room spun around me as I sank onto the edge of my bed, gripping the sheets like they were a lifeline. It felt like ice water coursed through my veins, freezing every rational thought.

I stared at the message, disbelief washing over me. How could he still have this power over me? How could he find pleasure in tormenting me like this? It was maddening. The walls felt like they were closing in; I needed to escape this feeling of being trapped again.

He knew exactly what to say to unravel me. This wasn’t just a threat; it was a reminder that he was back in my life whether I liked it or not. I couldn’t shake the image of him standing over Logan on the ice—his predatory gaze, that triumphant smirk. My stomach twisted at the thought of what he might do next.

This wasn’t over. It’s only just beginning.

The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave, pulling me under as panic set in. My mind raced with thoughts of all the ways Damien could make my life hell. I felt so powerless, and that made it worse—far worse than any physical threat he could pose.

I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to fend off the rising anxiety. Each thud of my heart echoed his message back to me: he was here to stay.

The night loomed ahead, dark and suffocating. All I wanted was to wake up and find that this was just a bad dream—one where Damien Sinclaire didn’t exist at all.

Chapter8

Damien

Iarrived early at the event office, the silence of the empty room heavy. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, my gaze fixed on the door. I could feel the energy buzzing just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

Calm. Focused. Dangerous.

The room smelled faintly of stale coffee and paper. The charity game loomed ahead, but today? Today was about Holly. I’d orchestrated this entire scenario, and I intended to make my presence known.

When the door swung open, she stepped inside. The air shifted as her eyes landed on me, wide and startled. For a split second, time slowed down.

She froze.

I watched her take a shaky breath, her expression flickering between anger and fear—an intoxicating mix that sent adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Holly stood there in disbelief, caught off guard by my unexpected presence. I let a smirk tug at my lips, enjoying how quickly she processed what it meant for us both. She wanted to ignore me; she thought she could walk away unscathed. But here I was, right where I needed to be.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, her voice steady despite the way her body betrayed her—tension radiated from her as if she were ready to bolt.

“Planning,” I replied coolly, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer to her. I slid into a chair, trying to give her a false sense of safety. “You know how it is.”

Her jaw tightened; it was adorable how hard she tried to maintain control in front of me.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she shot back, taking an instinctive step back as if my presence alone could burn her.

“Oh? Did your dad tell you that?” My words dripped with sarcasm. “Seems like he’s fine with me being involved.”

Her eyes narrowed at that—a fierce fire igniting behind them that made me want to push her even further.

“I don’t care what he wants,” Holly hissed. “You need to leave.”

I chuckled softly; her defiance only fueled my amusement. She had no idea how little control she had left in this game we played.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

I leaned back in my chair, the weight of her gaze heavy and electric. A smirk crept across my face as I studied her. I’d seen that look before—the way her eyes flared with a mix of anger and something deeper, something more vulnerable.

Back when she loved me. Back when she hated how much she loved me.

The silence hung thick between us, the anticipation palpable. No one else was in the office yet; it was just the two of us, suspended in a moment that felt like it had been ripped straight from our past.

“Missed me?” I asked, letting the playful challenge hang in the air.

Holly stiffened, her posture going rigid as if bracing herself against a storm. She refused to answer, but I could see the subtle tremor in her fingers as she set down her notebook on the table. Good. She remembered.

---