Page 10

Chapter 10

Damien

R estlessness clawed at me, a familiar itch I couldn’t scratch. The memory of Holly’s face near the rink played on repeat in my mind, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of something deeper. She thought she was fine. Thought she could move on from me like I was some bad dream she’d wake up from. But I knew better.

She was lying to everyone—her friends, her father, even herself. She stood there, pretending to be indifferent, but the way her fingers trembled told me everything I needed to know. The moment our eyes locked, a crack appeared in her carefully constructed armor.

I paced my room; the shadows shifting across the walls as I moved. Each step reminded me of that day on the ice when she watched Logan take a hit—a hit meant for him but aimed squarely at her heart. That flicker of recognition in her eyes had been electric; she hadn’t just seen me as a player or an enemy but as the force that had once pulled her under.

Her facade slipped away when no one was looking. Underneath it all, she craved the chaos we’d once shared, and it twisted inside her like a living thing. I could feel it—the way she teetered on the edge of remembering who we were before everything fell apart.

I stopped in front of the mirror and leaned in closer, studying my reflection as if I could see through to what she felt. Confidence radiated off me like heat from a flame, while Holly pretended not to notice how easily I could draw her back into my orbit.

She might act tough, keep busy with planning meetings and flirt with Logan Hartley to convince herself he was enough.

But deep down?

She longed for something real—something messy—and that made her vulnerable.

I just needed to push her over the edge.

I stood in front of the mirror as I stripped off my shirt. The early morning light spilled through the window, illuminating the scars and bruises that told a story of their own—each mark a reminder of battles fought, both on and off the ice. I ignored the ones on the inside of my thighs, ignored all of them.

Holly’d be pretending to be fine, pretending Logan was enough for her. But I could see it in her eyes—the way they widened with fear when she caught me staring. I didn’t want her scared; I wanted her to remember who she belonged to. I wanted her to want me again—even if she hated herself for it.

Just as I was about to reach for my clean shirt, the door swung open.

“Damien!” My mother’s voice sliced through the quiet like a knife.

I turned, pulling my shirt down just in time to shield myself from her gaze. Her expression shifted from annoyance to something colder—a sharp edge that had always made me uneasy.

“Why are you hiding yourself?” she asked, her eyes roving over me. “I'm your mother."

“What do you want?” I shot back, trying to mask my irritation with bravado. “It's not even six in the morning."

“Don’t take that tone with me,” she warned, stepping further into the room. “I wanted to check on you."

I clenched my teeth.

We both knew it wasn't that.

She might have been able to do that when I was a kid, when I didn't know better, but now?

Her eyes narrowed as she took another step forward, closing the distance between us. “You seem tense. Let me make you feel better."

I leaned against the dresser, my heart pounding in defiance. I hated the way my body fucking reacted to her, hated that I was fucking scared. Of her. “I don't want you to make me feel better."

"You always liked when I?—"

I grabbed my keys and left the room, ensuring I didn't touch her. I knew how she would make me feel better, and bile rose up to my mouth.

I didn't want any part of that.

Of her.

Of this fucking place.

I needed to leave.

I slammed the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, my fingers tightening around the wheel. The engine roared to life, drowning out the echoes of my mother’s words still ringing in my ears. Not today.

The road blurred beneath me as I sped toward Pandora's Box, the on-campus rink that had always felt like home—at least when I was on the ice.

But today?

Today it wasn’t just about hockey; it was about losing myself in something darker.

I parked in the back lot, my heart racing with anticipation as I stepped inside. The air buzzed with a familiar energy, a blend of sweat and adrenaline. Players milled about, some gearing up for scrimmages while others lingered, exchanging low whispers that masked what was really happening beneath the surface.

But I wasn’t here for practice. I made my way down a narrow corridor hidden behind a wall of soundproof glass. This place held more than just hockey; it hid secrets—like an underground fight club that thrived in the shadows.

With each step deeper into the bowels of Pandora’s Box, I felt the weight on my shoulders ease just a fraction. The world outside faded away—the expectations, the judgments—until only chaos remained. The darkened room pulsated with life, a makeshift ring set up under flickering lights where bodies collided with bone-crushing force.

I stripped down to my muscle shirt, sweat already pooling at my temples from anger and anticipation. A crowd gathered around me as I stepped into the ring, their shouts a cacophony urging me forward.

Some part of me knew this wasn’t healthy—knew that these moments would only ever be temporary fixes for wounds too deep to heal—but it didn’t matter now. All I craved was to unleash all that pent-up fury swirling inside me—my mother and everything she had done to me, even the remnants of yesterday’s confrontation and those memories of Holly looking at Logan.

The first opponent stepped up—a guy named Cole who had been waiting for his chance to prove himself against me. We circled each other in silence before he lunged forward, throwing punches like he was trying to drown out his own pain.

I let loose then, every hit echoing through me like thunder rolling across an open sky—my fists finding their mark with each calculated blow. It felt good; it felt right.

As each round wore on, I lost track of time, existing solely in this brutal reality where nothing else mattered except chaos and pain—the only things that had ever truly felt like freedom to me.

I lost track of time in that ring, the sweat and blood mixing with adrenaline until the only thing I felt was the satisfying throb of my knuckles against flesh. Hours passed like seconds, and one by one, bodies fell away, leaving me alone in the quiet chaos of my own making. Each punch sent ripples through me—a release I desperately craved.

Finally, when the last guy slipped out, too battered to stick around for another round, I peeled off my gloves and flexed my sore hands. The pain flared up but faded into nothing compared to the rush of satisfaction coursing through me. I hit harder than ever before, each strike a reminder of who I was—and who I wouldn’t let anyone forget.

After showering away the grime and sweat, I dressed quickly and stepped outside. The summer sun beat down on me, but it barely registered. My focus remained fixed on Holly. I knew her schedule by heart—memorized it like a lifeline that kept pulling me closer to her.

Gym first; then committee work for that charity game. Summer sessions meant no classes for her. Predictable as always when she was trying to keep her life from unraveling. But predictability was weakness.

I parked near the event office and settled into a spot where shadows could shield me from view. The hours dragged on as I waited, my thoughts running wild. I imagined Holly at her desk, tapping away on her laptop, probably trying to ignore whatever tension lingered between us after yesterday’s encounter.

I waited outside the rink, leaning against the cool metal railing, letting the chaos inside fade to a dull roar. When Holly stepped out, her expression shifted from relief to something closer to dread as she spotted me.

I straightened up, blocking her path. Not aggressive, just calm and calculated. I felt the weight of my presence settle between us like a storm.

“What do you want, Damien?” she asked, tension threading through her voice.

“You know what I want,” I replied, a smirk creeping onto my face.

Her eyes flashed with defiance. “I’m not doing this.”

I stepped closer, closing the distance until the air between us thickened with unspoken words and unresolved tension. She backed up until her spine hit the cold brick wall behind her, but I could see the way her breath quickened—she was feeling it too.

“Aren’t you tired of pretending?” I asked, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper.

Her breath hitched at that, and in that moment, I knew I’d struck a nerve. The flicker of vulnerability crossed her features like lightning illuminating the night sky. It felt exhilarating to watch.

Leaning in closer, close enough that she could feel my breath on her neck, I said, “You liked it when you were mine. Don’t fucking lie to me, Holly.”

Her jaw tightened; she didn’t move away from me. For a second, everything else faded—the noise from inside the rink, the sunlight pouring down around us—it was just me and her in that tight space. The weight of my words hung there like an unacknowledged truth we both knew but refused to speak aloud.

The world could crumble around us; all that mattered was this moment and how it pulsed with unacknowledged desires that threatened to break free at any second.

I brushed my thumb along her jaw, the touch gentle yet firm. It was a warning wrapped in something that felt like tenderness. I could crush her, make her remember what I was capable of, but not yet. Not until I had all the pieces in place.

“Logan was nothing,” I murmured, letting the words hang in the air between us like smoke. “You know that. You knew what would happen when you smiled at him like that.”

Her eyes flashed with a mix of anger, fear, and something darker—desire simmering just beneath the surface. It was beautifully fucked up, watching her emotions dance across her face. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips, and it thrilled me.

“Don’t act like you care,” she shot back, trying to regain control. But we both knew it was an act; I could see through her confidence like glass.

“Care?” I scoffed, tilting my head slightly as if considering her words. “That’s rich coming from you. You think I don’t see how you look at me? How you can’t help yourself?”

She bit down on her lip to suppress a reaction, but it didn’t escape me. The way her breath hitched told me everything—I still had that hold over her. Even after all this time apart, even after the chaos of yesterday's violence and fear.

I leaned closer, our faces mere inches apart now. The air crackled with unspoken tension.

“I won’t let anyone else touch you,” I said softly but firmly, letting each word seep into the space between us. “Not again.”

She flinched slightly at the intensity of my gaze, and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability flashed across her features before she masked it again with defiance.

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” she challenged.

I couldn’t help but chuckle darkly; she still thought she had power here. In this game we were playing, there were no rules except those I set.

“Are you sure about that?” I replied, leaning back just enough to gauge her reaction. Her fire ignited again; it was intoxicating—fueled by fear and desire all at once.

In that charged silence where nothing else mattered but us and our histories entwined together like vines around an old tree, I held my ground while waiting for Holly to make her next move.

She pushed against my chest, but I caught her wrists, holding them firmly yet gently against the wall. The contact sent a rush of adrenaline through me. I could feel her struggle beneath my grip, and it stirred something primal within me.

Holly gasped, surprise flashing in her eyes, but I sensed the truth hidden in that moment—she wasn’t fighting me as fiercely as she could. It was a flicker of vulnerability beneath her defiance, and it ignited a smirk on my face.

“See? You still like it rough,” I teased, leaning closer so she could feel the heat radiating off me.

So I could press into her and remind her what that felt like.

Her cheeks flushed, betraying her anger and arousal all at once. I relished that mix of emotions; it made the chase so much more exciting. She inhaled sharply, her breath quickening as our eyes locked.

“You don’t control me anymore,” she shot back, voice steady despite the fire dancing in her gaze.

I tilted my head slightly, pretending to ponder her words as if they held weight. “You sure about that?”

And just like that, I released her wrists, stepping back as if nothing had happened. The distance between us felt electric; it was as if I’d dropped a live wire on the floor and watched it hum with potential.

Her breath hitched when she realized what I’d done—how easily I had shifted from predator to something softer in an instant. She looked shaken now, the flush in her cheeks deepening as she wrestled with confusion and desire swirling together.

The power shift lay heavy in the air between us, and I reveled in watching Holly’s mind race while mine remained steady. She was caught between wanting to fight back and facing whatever reality we found ourselves tangled in once more. It was intoxicating to see how much control still rested in my hands.

I felt her hesitation, the way she tensed as if preparing to bolt. I couldn’t let that happen. I grabbed her hand—gently this time, not wanting to scare her away but desperate enough to keep her close.

“Damien… don’t,” she said, her voice shaky, a plea that sliced through the tension between us.

But I was already leaning in, drawn by an invisible thread that pulled me toward her.

I moved slowly, deliberately, giving her every chance to stop me. I wanted to see if she’d pull away or push me back; wanted to know if she still held that fire deep inside.

She didn’t move.

When our lips met, it wasn’t soft or sweet; it was raw and desperate—filled with the pent-up frustration of everything we hadn’t said. It felt like tearing open an old wound just to feel it bleed again, both painful and exhilarating all at once.

Her fingers gripped my shirt tightly, fisting the fabric as if trying to pull me closer while simultaneously wanting to push me away. I sensed the conflict swirling in her mind—the battle between desire and self-preservation—and it drove me wild.

With a surge of need coursing through me, I pushed her back against the wall harder this time. The impact echoed in around us, but it didn’t matter; all that mattered was this moment and how alive she made me feel.

Her breath quickened against my mouth. But beneath it all lingered something else—a spark that had never truly faded away. I tasted the fire in our kiss as it ignited everything we had buried: past hurts, regrets, and the raw hunger for what we once shared.

I wanted more than just a taste; I craved every part of her—the chaos she brought into my life and the way we clashed so beautifully together. This moment wasn’t just about reclaiming what was mine; it was about making her remember who we were together, even amidst the destruction we had left behind.

And as our lips moved against each other with urgency and need, I knew there was no going back now.

My hand knotted in her hair, tugging just enough to remind her who I was. Our mouths clashed together, a furious dance of tongues that ignited every nerve ending within me. I felt the heat radiating off her skin, the way she responded to me—every gasp and moan against my lips was music, a symphony of defiance and desire.

Her fingers gripped my shirt tightly, pulling me closer as if trying to anchor herself amidst the storm I had unleashed. But just as quickly as it began, she tore herself away, breaking the connection between us with a fierce determination that only heightened the fire coursing through my veins.

Her eyes were wild—pissed, turned on, and tinged with fear. It thrilled me to see that confusion flickering beneath her anger.

“This is a mistake,” she said breathlessly, voice shaky but resolute.

I wiped my lip with a smirk dancing on my face. “You didn’t stop me,” I replied, savoring the taste of victory lingering in the air between us.

Before I could say anything else, she turned and stormed off. Each step echoed through the empty area of campus like a drumbeat of rebellion. I watched her walk away, taking in the way her body moved—powerful yet uncertain—as if she were still processing what had just happened.

And in that moment, I knew this was just the beginning. She might think she was free, but deep down? She was mine again. She just didn’t know it yet.

As she disappeared around the corner, I leaned back against the wall, satisfaction coiling within me like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. The game had changed; our roles were shifting once more. No longer just memories haunting each other’s pasts—we were tangled up in something far more dangerous now.

The thought of reclaiming her sent adrenaline surging through my veins. She would fight it; she always did. But eventually, she'd come back to me.

I felt that familiar spark ignite—a promise that this time would be different. And for once? I welcomed the chaos that lay ahead.

I checked my phone later, heart pounding from the adrenaline still coursing through me. Nothing from her. Not a single word after our kiss.

Doesn’t matter , I told myself. She’d need time to process everything that just happened—time to wrestle with those emotions I knew were bubbling beneath the surface. I tossed my phone onto the bed, a satisfied grin creeping across my face.

I picked it up again, thumb hovering over the screen as I crafted a message.

Didn’t feel like a mistake to me.

There was power in those words, a challenge wrapped in familiarity.

I hit send and tossed the phone aside again, letting it rest on the sheets.

A moment later, my mind wandered back to her expression when I pulled away—the mixture of anger and desire painted vividly on her face. The way she looked at me, as if she were battling against some magnetic pull that kept drawing her closer, ignited something primal within me.

She was slipping back into me.

That thought settled deep in my gut, fueling the confidence swelling inside me like an unstoppable tide. The fire in her eyes during our kiss—how it flickered and burned—told me everything I needed to know. Holly was trying so hard to maintain that defiance, but I saw right through it; there was always something between us that couldn’t be ignored.

And soon? She’d fall. Hard.

Every fiber of my being buzzed with anticipation at that prospect. It wouldn’t take much longer before she realized this was where she belonged—with me, tangled in this beautiful chaos we created together.

With each passing moment, I could sense the walls she’d built around herself starting to crack just a little more. It thrilled me knowing how much control I still held over her emotions; how easily she could be swept up by the tide of everything we used to share—the heat of passion mixed with resentment, love tangled in chaos.

I let out a low chuckle as I sank back into my thoughts, waiting for the moment when she'd finally break down those barriers completely and surrender herself to what we both knew existed between us.

It would happen; it always did.