Page 56 of Damian
“Fighting for us,” I said softly. “And as soon as he’s done, he’ll be here.”
I clung to that thought like a lifeline, even as the fear gnawed inside me. The man at the door hadn’t been bluffing. He’d walked away tonight, but his voice, the way he’d said my name—it was a promise.
He’d be back.
And when he came, I needed Damian here to meet him.
75
Morgan
Time stretched into something unbearable.
Every creak of the cabin made me flinch, every brush of wind against the walls set my nerves on fire. Ruby dozed with her head on my shoulder, but even in sleep, her body twitched, restless with fear. I kept the pistol resting in my lap, my finger brushing the trigger guard, unwilling to set it down.
I told myself I was ready—that if the man came back, I’d stop him. But the truth was, the longer the silence dragged on, the more fragile my resolve felt.
Headlights cut through the blackout curtains.
I froze, heart lodged in my throat. An engine rumbled closer, then died. Boots crunched on gravel.
This time, I didn’t move toward the door. I stood my ground, gun steady, my voice sharp. “Damian?”
A pause. Then his answer, deep and sure: “It’s me.”
The sound unraveled me. I fumbled with the locks, my hands trembling so hard I almost dropped the gun. The door swung open, and there he was—broad shoulders, eyes sharp, the scent of gunpowder and cold night air clinging to him.
The weapon slipped from my grip, landing harmlessly on the rug, and I was in his arms before I could think. He crushed me to his chest, one hand burying in my hair, the other anchoring me against him. For the first time all night, I let myself cry, the sob tearing loose from somewhere deep.
His voice rumbled against my ear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I clung tighter, my fists knotted in the fabric of his shirt. “He was here. At the door. He knew my name, Damian. He knew about Ruby.”
His arms tightened like iron bands. For a long beat, he didn’t speak. Then, low and dangerous: “I should have been here.”
“No,” I whispered fiercely, pulling back enough to look at him. “You were doing what had to be done. I just… I just needed you to come back.”
He searched my face, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something raw and unguarded. Then he bent and kissed me—hard, unrestrained, nothing like the careful touch in front of the others. This was a promise, a vow, a fire that lit up everything I’d been holding in.
When we finally broke apart, his forehead pressed to mine, he whispered, “I’ll never let him get near you again. Either of you.”
Behind me, Ruby stirred, her sleepy voice soft but certain. “I believe him.”
Damian’s gaze flicked over my shoulder to her, then back to me. He kissed my temple and eased me closer, his hand steady at the small of my back. “Get some rest, both of you. Tomorrow we move. Tonight, no one touches this door but me.”
And for the first time in days, I believed it.
76
Morgan
The safehouse didn’t feel so small once the rest of the team filed in behind Damian. The room filled with movement—Oliver stacking weapons on the table, Gage sweeping the perimeter again before locking up tight, Cyclone dropping into a chair like he’d been running on fumes for days.
Ruby, wrapped in her blanket, sat close to me, her eyes still wide but steadier now that the men were here. She didn’t let go of my hand, though, and I didn’t make her.
Damian stayed at my side, one hand resting at the small of my back as if he didn’t trust the walls, the locks, or anyone else to keep me upright. His touch wasn’t for show—it was instinct. Protection was written into every move he made.
Cyclone rubbed his eyes, then flipped his laptop open. The screen glowed, bathing his face in pale light. “I pulled what I could before the system started burning itself out. We’ve got fragments—communications, inventory, movement schedules. Enough to know where they’re pushing their operations. Perhaps we can rescue even more children and women.”
