Page 22

Chapter 22

Damien

I paced 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?

I shoved my phone into my pocket, the anger boiling over like a pot left too long on the stove. I stalked down the hallway, each step fueled by a mix of fury and desperation. I had to confront her—the one person I never wanted to face again.

My mother was in the parlor, that pristine space that always felt cold and unwelcoming, filled with the smell of expensive wine and polished furniture. There she sat, casually sipping from a glass as if she hadn’t just thrown my world into chaos. The moment our eyes met, her lips curled into a knowing smile, a twisted victory that made my blood boil.

“ I was wondering when you’d come storming in ,” she said, her tone dripping with feigned sweetness.

I didn’t slow. I didn’t hesitate. My fingers twitched at my sides, itching to destroy something—anything—to relieve the pressure building inside me.

“ What did you say to her? ” The words burst out, sharper than I intended.

Her smile widened as if relishing this moment. “ Oh, you know how these things go. Just a little chat about your past. ”

The room felt like it was closing in around me. “ What did you tell her? That I’m broken? That I’ll ruin everything? ”

She tilted her head slightly, that predator gaze locking onto mine with amusement dancing in her eyes. “I simply reminded Holly that some things can’t be undone. That relationships like yours tend to leave scars.”

Every word dripped with poison. I felt the heat rising in my chest—a volcanic rage threatening to erupt. “You think this is some kind of game? You think you can control who gets close to me?”

She took another sip of wine, completely unfazed by my anger. “Control is exactly what’s needed here, Damien. You need to focus on what matters—your future.”

I stepped closer, every instinct screaming for me to put distance between us and yet drawn forward by an unseen force—one that demanded confrontation. “My future? Or yours?”

The silence stretched between us like a taut wire ready to snap at any moment as her smirk faded just enough for me to catch a glimpse of vulnerability hidden behind her mask. But it didn’t matter; all I could see was red as I confronted the very source of the chaos swirling in my life—and Holly’s fate hung in the balance.

His mother sighed dramatically, setting her glass down with a clink that echoed through the cold parlor.

“Holly deserves the truth, Damien. If you weren’t such a coward, you’d tell her yourself.”

Her words slashed through me like a blade. I felt my vision blur with red, anger surging as she leaned back, that sickening smirk still plastered across her face. She thrived on this chaos; it fed her twisted sense of power.

“You don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to speak her fucking name.” My voice came out razor-sharp, every syllable laced with fury.

She leaned forward slightly, unfazed by my aggression. “She was always going to leave you again. You know that, don’t you?”

Something inside me snapped at her words, that insufferable confidence dripping from her lips igniting an inferno in my chest.

I lunged.

In one swift motion, I closed the distance between us, fingers grasping at the collar of her tailored blouse. I could feel the rush of adrenaline as my grip tightened around the fabric—my breath coming fast and heavy as I forced myself to focus on her eyes, those cold, calculating eyes that had always seemed to enjoy my pain.

Her smirk faded for a split second as surprise flickered across her face before she regained composure. “You think this is going to change anything? You think violence will fix what’s broken?”

I pulled her closer, almost reveling in the way she flinched beneath my grip. “You have no idea what you’re playing with,” I hissed, letting every ounce of anger spill into those words. “You don’t know how far I’ll go.”

For once, there was uncertainty in her gaze—a crack in that flawless facade. But it didn’t last long; she quickly masked it with disdain.

“Protect? Or destroy?”

I released my hold on her collar and stepped back, rage boiling over into something more dangerous—a mix of confusion and desperation. I couldn’t let Holly slip away again because of this woman’s games. The realization gnawed at me: I had already lost so much before; I couldn’t bear to watch it happen again.

But I knew then—I had to confront my mother’s poison head-on if I wanted any chance at keeping Holly safe from this hellscape she tried to control.

My hands itched to wrap around my mother’s throat, to silence her venomous words once and for all.

“Honestly, Damien,” she continued, a cruel smile dancing on her lips, “do you really think Holly could handle you? She was never strong enough to deal with the mess you are. It’s only a matter of time before she runs again and spreads her legs for someone else like the whore she is.”

Before I could think, before I could process the weight of her words, I lunged forward. Rage coursed through my veins like fire, and all I wanted was to erase that sickening smirk from her face.

But just as my hands reached for her, something slammed into me—a force stronger and heavier than I expected. I barely registered the impact before I found myself pinned against the wall.

Cooper.

My older brother stood before me like a fortress. He looked like he’d stepped out of some gritty action film—tall and rugged with scars etched across his face. A fucking cowboy wrapped in an aura of hard-won wisdom. The kind of guy who seemed both intimidating and somehow at ease in chaos.

His grip was solid, firm—but not aggressive. He had always been stronger than me, but right now he wasn’t trying to hurt me. Not yet.

“What the hell is going on, Damien?” His voice was calm and measured, but his eyes bore into mine—watching, studying, assessing the storm brewing inside me.

I breathed heavily, fists clenching at my sides as adrenaline pumped through my body. The urge to fight surged back again; it would be so easy to throw my brother off me and go after our mother again.

“Stay the fuck out of this,” I shot back, my voice low and dangerous.

Cooper’s gaze didn’t waver; he remained anchored despite my fury. Meanwhile, our mother exhaled dramatically behind him, brushing nonexistent dust from her sleeve as if we were mere inconveniences in her perfect world.

“Your brother was about to hit his own mother, Cooper,” she chimed in sweetly. “Imagine that.”

Cooper didn’t look at her. His gaze remained locked on me, a silent demand for an explanation I didn’t have.

My throat tightened, words lodged somewhere deep inside me. What was the point? No one ever believed me—not my father, not anyone. Why would Cooper be any different? He fucking left the second he could, and now he cared? I felt a bitter laugh bubbling up at the thought.

I stared at him, waiting for him to break the silence, but it dragged on too long, stretching between us like an invisible chasm. Finally, he exhaled through his nose.

“Damien…”

The sound of my name in his voice hit me like a punch to the gut. I wrenched free from his grip and shook my head, fury igniting within me.

“Fuck this.”

Fuck all of this. I turned away from both of them—the mother who twisted every word and every emotion into something monstrous and the brother who would never understand the darkness that consumed me. Staying meant talking, meant remembering things better left buried deep beneath layers of anger and chaos.

I stormed out of that parlor, heart pounding with each step as if my feet knew how to escape before my mind caught up with what was happening. I could hear their voices fading behind me—my mother’s calculated remarks mingling with Cooper’s concerned tones—but I pushed them out like they were nothing more than background noise.

No one deserved to see this side of me—not even Cooper. He’d been raised to think he could fix everything, but he couldn’t fix what was broken in our family or in me.

I burst through the front door into the cold air outside, letting it wash over my skin like a baptism. The chill helped clear my head momentarily; however, it did nothing to extinguish the rage simmering beneath the surface.

As I walked away from that house—a prison of memories—I could feel my heart racing faster than my thoughts. The last thing I wanted was to open myself up again, only to be broken once more by those who should have been there to protect me.

They didn’t get it; they never would.

I barely registered where I was going. All I knew was that I needed to get the fuck out. The Sinclaire house felt like a cage, the walls closing in on me with every breath I took. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind, a constant reminder of the chaos she thrived on.

Holly ruined you.

She’ll leave you again.

No one ever listened. No one ever believed me. Not my father, not Cooper—no one. They were all too caught up in their own worlds to see the truth buried beneath layers of pretense and facade.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel as I sped down the highway, the asphalt blurring beneath me. The familiar route offered no solace, just a growing sense of urgency and desperation that clawed at my insides.

I should go somewhere, find a fight, lose myself in something violent—something that could drown out all this noise in my head. But instead, my mind drifted back to Holly—the way she’d looked at me under that storm, how she had kissed me with such fire and need that it had ignited something inside me long buried.

She had texted me. She had called. She hadn’t left—not yet. But how much longer before she did?

Every second spent away from her twisted into knots of anxiety in my gut. I couldn't shake off the fear that clung to me like a second skin, tightening with each passing moment. What if she listened to my mother? What if those poisonous words seeped into her mind and made her doubt everything we shared?

The headlights from oncoming cars flashed through my windshield, pulling me back to reality for a fleeting moment before darkness crept back in—thoughts of Holly, wrapped up in shadows of uncertainty and dread.

Would she really choose them over me?

I gritted my teeth, focusing on the road ahead but struggling against the suffocating weight of doubt clawing at my sanity. The last thing I wanted was to push her away, but I couldn't fathom letting her in. Because then she'd see me for what I was: weak. Pathetic. A monster. If she knew what my mother did to me…

I couldn't fucking breathe at the thought.

And yet here I was—driving into oblivion while all I really wanted was her by my side.

My phone vibrated against the console, a jarring reminder that I wasn't as alone as I felt. I glanced down, and my heart lurched at the name lighting up the screen: Holly. Again.

Fingers hovered over the screen, a battle raging inside me. I could answer. I could go to her, wrap her up in my arms and tell her everything would be fine. I could let her in like I had before—the way she deserved.

But then my mother’s words echoed through my mind, cold and cutting: She doesn’t belong in your world anymore.

The heat of anger surged through me, clashing with the tightness coiling around my chest. My jaw locked as the truth clawed at me. How many times had I tried to escape this cage? How many times had I been pulled back into its grasp?

I stared at the screen, watching the call ring on. Each vibration felt like a push and pull between desire and fear. She wanted to talk—needed to talk—but what could I say? What good would it do for me to drag her deeper into my chaos?

I took a deep breath, feeling suffocated by memories that wrapped around me like chains. The moments we shared haunted me—the laughter, the tenderness, all twisted together with shadows of pain that threatened to consume us both.

Finally, I let it ring out until silence fell like a shroud around me. The call went to voicemail, leaving only my racing thoughts behind.

A part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind, dial her back immediately, and remind her of everything we had fought for together. But another part—the part fueled by self-loathing and resentment—whispered that maybe she was right not to want me anymore.

You’re broken.

The thought lingered longer than it should have, gnawing at my insides like an insatiable beast demanding attention.

I turned away from the road ahead, driving aimlessly into nothingness while wrestling with demons that wouldn’t let go.