Page 74 of Sticks & Serpents

I stared at my phone, jaw clenched tight as the voicemail greeting cut off again. Each beep felt like a punch to my gut, igniting the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Fine. If he wouldn’t answer, I’d make him listen.

With shaking hands, I typed out a message and hit send before I could second-guess myself.

I don’t care what your mother says. We need to talk.

A moment passed, and then I followed up with another text.

You don’t get to run from this.

My heart raced as I wrote the last one, fingers trembling over the screen.

You don’t get to run from me.

Once the messages were sent, I threw my phone onto the passenger seat, breath coming in quick bursts. A storm brewed inside me.

Because I knew—this wasn’t over. Not even close.

The rain pounded against my windshield, a chaotic rhythm echoing my internal turmoil. I couldn’t just sit here waiting for him to decide when he was ready to face me. Not again.

Damien had always been good at running away when things got too real, but I wasn’t going to let him escape this time. The thought of his mother’s icy words hung heavy in the air around me like fog:You ruined him.

I shook my head, trying to banish her voice from my mind. Whatever twisted logic she used to manipulate him wouldn’t work on me. Damien needed someone who would stand firm—not cower under his family’s weight or their expectations.

The car felt claustrophobic as I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, impatience bubbling inside me like a shaken soda can ready to explode. Did he think he could just disappear? Did he really believe that pushing me away would somehow make everything better?

I glanced at my phone again as if willing it to light up with his name, but nothing happened.

Frustration boiled over; I started the engine and backed out of the driveway without a second thought.

If he wanted to hide, then fine—I would drag him out into the light myself.

Chapter22

Damien

Ipaced the darkened bedroom, my jaw clenched, phone gripped tightly in my hand. Holly’s messages stared back at me, their words burning into my mind.

I don’t care what your mother says. We need to talk.

You don’t get to run from this.

You don’t get to run from me.

A slow, dangerous rage coiled inside me. Each message felt like a knife twisting deeper into my gut.

My mother had done this. She had gotten inside Holly’s head, poisoning her with doubt and fear. I could picture her—smirking as she unleashed her lies, twisting everything I’d built around Holly into something toxic and suffocating.

My hands shook, my breathing uneven as I fought against the urge to smash the phone against the wall. She won’t stop until Holly’s gone. I felt it in my bones—my mother wouldn’t rest until she had ripped everything from me again.

Every moment of vulnerability I allowed myself around Holly seemed like an invitation for disaster, a weakness to exploit. I remembered how it felt when Holly kissed me under that rainstorm—how everything melted away except for us, how it made me feel alive in ways I hadn’t dared to hope for.

But now? Now, that feeling was clouded by doubt and anger. How dare she question me? How dare she try to make this about her?

I ran a hand through my hair, fighting back the flood of emotions threatening to drown me. My heart raced at the thought of losing her again—the first time nearly shattered me; I couldn't let it happen again.

I needed a plan—a way to shield her from my mother’s venom while making sure she understood exactly who was in control here. But could I even protect her from my own blood?

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