Page 86 of The Reaper's Vow
Damien doesn’t even blink. Not a hint of amusement.
“This isn’t a schoolyard bully we’re talking about, Karina.”
I swallow hard, the smile slipping. My joke hangs awkwardly between us, heavy in the air.
“I know,” I say quietly. “I was just trying to make this feel a little less terrifying.”
His expression softens slightly as he pulls me against his chest. I breathe in his scent—pine and smoke and something uniquely him—trying to calm my racing heart.
“Nothing about this will be easy, but I need you to understand what we're walking into. These aren't humans with human rules. If Lockhart gets his hands on you, there won't be a chance to use those self-defense moves. He’s bigger, faster, and has decades of fighting experience, kitten. So, if it comes down to it. Shift as fast as you can, run, and don’t fucking look back.”
His warning chills me to the bone, but it's not myself I'm worried about—it's him. The thought of Damien throwing himself into danger for me makes my stomach twist into knots. I shift from the mirror, spinning on my heels to face him, placing my palms against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my fingers.
“What about you? If things go wrong, what's your plan?”
He doesn't answer immediately, and that terrifies me more than anything else.
“Damien,” I press, gripping his shirt. “Promise me you won't do anything stupid.”
“Define stupid.” His attempt at humor falls flat.
“You know exactly what I mean.” I pull back to look up at him. “I can feel it through the bond. You're planning something you don't want me to know about.”
It's strange how quickly I've come to rely on this connection between us. Just days ago, I was fighting it with everything I had.Now, I can't imagine not feeling his emotions alongside my own, this second heartbeat that tells me things his words don't.
“My priority is keeping you safe,” he says, which isn't an answer at all.
I study his face—the hard angles, the stubbled jaw. When did this happen? When did this terrifying man become someone I can't bear the thought of losing?
“When I agreed to be your mate, I didn't do it so you could throw your life away playing hero.”
Something flickers across his features—surprise, maybe. Like he wasn't expecting me to push back.
“This isn't about playing hero,” he says, but I can feel the lie through our connection. The way his emotions shift, walls slamming up to block me out.
“Don't.” I shake my head, stepping back. “Don't shut me out. Not now.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves. “You don't understand?—”
“Then make me understand.” I cross my arms, channeling every ounce of stubborn determination I possess. “We're supposed to be partners in this, Damien. That means you don't get to make unilateral decisions about our lives.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken truths. “If Lockhart realizes it's a trap,” he says finally, “if things go sideways and there's no other choice...I'll make sure you get out. Whatever it takes. If it’s a choice between me or you making it out safely, my choice will always be you, kitten.”
“No.” The word tears from my throat with such force it surprises us both. “Absolutely not.”
He grips my arms, not hard, but enough to make me look at him. His eyes burn like silver caught in moonlight, his wolf right there beneath the surface. “Even if I could find a way to keep breathing without you, my wolf would never allow it. That’s nothow this bond works. You’re not just in my life — you’re in my blood, my bones, every breath I take. If you die, so do I. There’s no part of me that survives losing you.”
He draws a shuddering breath, thumb brushing along my jaw. “I’m not saying this to scare you. I’m saying it because you keep talking about sacrifice like it’s an option. It’s not. Not for us. The Moon’s bond isn’t some pretty story. It’s a promise written into our souls. True mates don’t bury each other. If one falls, the other follows.”
His forehead touches mine. “So when you talk about fighting alone, when you think about dying for me, remember this: you’d be killing me too. And I refuse to let that happen. We live together, or we die together. There is no other way.”
A sharp knock shatters the fragile quiet between us, jolting me out of Damien’s arms. My pulse skips, the bond still humming with the warmth of his touch. He scowls at the interruption but strides to the door.
When it swings open, one of his father’s servants stands there, blank-faced, a large shopping bag dangling from her hand.
“The items you requested, Miss Greene,” she says, her voice flat as stone, and offers the bag—not to me, but to Damien.
His brow furrows as he takes it, weighing the unexpected bundle before turning back toward me. “What the hell is this?”
