Page 51 of The Prince of Power

Damian lets go of Connor, and he slumps on the floor. “We’re leaving,” Damian says.

The man behind me tightens his grip on my arms and drags me toward the door. I wrench against him, but his hold is like iron.

Damian’s voice cuts through the room. “Let her go.”

The hands vanish, and I stumble at the sudden loss of resistance. I rub my arms, my skin burning where he grabbed me.

Damian’s gaze locks onto the red marks on my skin. A flicker of something dark passes over his face. He turns to the man who had been holding me. “You should know how to hold someone as small as her without leaving marks.”

The man swallows. “I’m sorry, I?—”

“You’re fired.”

The man nods once before turning and leaving the room without another word.

My mouth drops open. “How dare you fire him for not committing criminal activity to your liking?”

Damian’s expression is grave. Gone is the boyish version of him who lit up when he talked about poker.

I can’t believe I fell for that.

“We’re walking home.” His tone is sharp. “Walk in front of me. Head down.”

My head grows fuzzy with rage. “That’s Manson family level insanity.”

He tilts his head. “Would you like a worse punishment?”

The words settle like a weight in the room. My jaw clenches. I can’t even look at Connor, though I can hear his heavy breathing. I don’t want to draw any more attention to him.

So I turn around and walk out the door. Head down.

We step into the night. The air is warm but thick with mist. My own breathing feels too loud in the silence.

“I said no men, little doll.” Damian’s voice is smooth.

“Connor is a classmate. I thought you meant men in the sense— Like I’m not supposed to sleep with anyone or something.”

He laughs, and it’s a chilling sound. “God help him if you had.”

I grit my teeth. “I’m going to the police, Damian. I’ve reached my limit.”

His steady footsteps thump behind me. Of course he won’t respond. He knows how maddening it is to be ignored.

“They probably won’t do anything.” My voice wobbles. “Your dad probably owns them. Or maybe your cult does. But I have to. It’s the principle of the thing.”

Silence stretches between us. Nothing but thumping footsteps on the path and ocean wind rattling leaves on the oak trees.

“If you do that,” Damian finally says, “you won’t like the punishment.”

I stop walking.

Turn.

Look him directly in the eyes.

“You’ll hurt me?” Somehow, my voice is steady. “Cut my skin? I dare you.”

Damian smiles, but it’s not cruel. It’s almost tender. He reaches out and strokes my burning cheeks. “I’d never mark your pretty skin. I don’t want to, and it wouldn’t work with you.” His brows lift a fraction. “I’ve learned what does.”

---