Page 26

Chapter 26

Damien

I didn’t remember how my mother had followed me into the secluded hallway. One second, I was just trying to escape the small talk, the endless chatter about charity and connections. The next, she stood there, waiting. Watching.

She held a champagne glass, its contents shimmering under the dim lights, and that too-knowing smile crept across her lips.

“I see you brought her,” she said, her voice smooth as silk but dripping with something darker.

I didn’t take the bait. I never did. I clenched my jaw, feeling my hands curl into fists at my sides. The air felt thick between us, heavy with all the words unsaid.

“Why do you care?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but it didn’t matter.

Her expression shifted slightly, amusement flickering in her eyes like a candle in a draft. She stepped closer, invading my space with that perfume of hers—sweet yet suffocating—making it hard to breathe.

“Because, Damien,” she began, leaning in as if sharing a secret meant only for me. “You never learn.”

Every muscle in my body tensed at her words. I hated how easily she could unsettle me, how she seemed to revel in knowing just how to push my buttons. It was infuriating and familiar all at once—a dance we’d done too many times before.

I took a step back, putting distance between us, but she closed it effortlessly with a smile that promised more manipulation.

“Your little flame,” she continued softly, almost tauntingly, “doesn’t know what she's getting into.”

Something twisted inside me at the mention of Holly, and I forced myself to remain stoic. But I could feel anger boiling beneath the surface like molten lava threatening to erupt.

“Stay away from her,” I snapped, more of a growl than an actual request.

My mother merely tilted her head, that infuriating smile still plastered on her face as if this was all just a game to her—one where she held all the cards and I was nothing but a pawn on her board.

"I don’t understand what's so special about her," my mother said, moving closer. “She’s young. Na?ve. She can’t make you feel the same pleasure I did, Damien. We both know it’s true.”

My teeth ground together, a dull ache throbbing in my jaw. Something inside me cracked at her words, a barrier I’d kept up for years starting to crumble under the weight of her disdain.

“You ruined me,” I shot back, each word laced with venom.

Her lips parted slightly—more from amusement than shock—as if my confession was just another piece in her twisted game.

“Oh, darling,” she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, shaking with a mixture of anger and pain. My vision burned with an intensity that made it hard to focus on anything but the figure standing before me—my tormentor, the architect of all my scars.

“You made me into this. Into something broken. And I hate you for it.”

She tilted her head, that infuriating smile still plastered on her face as if she relished in the chaos she’d created within me. “And yet, here we are.”

Every muscle in my body tensed at her dismissive tone. I felt like a coiled spring ready to snap—ready to lash out at the very person who had shaped my life into a series of shattered fragments. The truth was like poison seeping through my veins; I could barely stand it.

“Don’t pretend you care about me,” I spat, pushing back against the memories that threatened to drown me in darkness. “You only care about controlling everything around you.”

Her laughter echoed softly in the dimly lit hallway—a sound devoid of warmth and filled instead with an unsettling joy at seeing me squirm. It ignited something primal within me—a rage so fierce it clouded my judgment and blurred the lines between love and hatred.

“I will never let you have control over me again,” I said through gritted teeth, even as doubt flickered like a candle flame in my chest. Would Holly really be safe? Would she want to stay by my side once she saw who I truly was?

My mother stepped closer again, invading my space with an air of authority that felt suffocating. “You think running away will change anything? You’ll always come back to what you know. And that's me, Damien. Me."

I wanted to scream—to tell her that this time would be different—but the words caught in my throat like shards of glass as I faced the reality of our shared history hanging between us like an iron chain.

I stepped closer, my breath sharp and uneven. My hands twitched at my sides, an involuntary reaction to the rage boiling inside me. I had never said it before—never found the courage to voice the truth that twisted in my gut like a knife. But now? Now I couldn’t hold back.

“I hate you,” I whispered, the words jagged and raw as they slipped from my lips. “I hate what you did to me.”

A shudder rippled through me as I spoke, and for a moment, her expression faltered—just a flicker of something resembling concern. But it vanished too quickly, replaced by that infuriating calmness that always seemed to mock me.

“I hate myself because of you.”

Her smile faded for a brief second, replaced by an unsettling hum as she tilted her head. “So dramatic.”

I felt my vision darken at the edges, everything narrowing down to just her smug face—the one I had come to despise more than anything in this world. My chest tightened, breath becoming shallow as I fought against the swell of anger threatening to consume me whole.

She wouldn’t even acknowledge it—not the pain she’d inflicted or the scars she left behind. Instead, she stood there, unbothered by my confession as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“You were always so weak,” she said softly, each word cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

Weakness echoed in my mind—a haunting reminder of everything I had ever tried to escape. It felt like drowning in quicksand while she stood there with a smile on her face, enjoying every moment of my struggle.

“Shut up,” I hissed, fury clawing its way up from deep within me as I fought against her words.

But the more I fought against it, the more it settled into place—a truth I couldn't shake off: She had made me this way. The anger surged within me like wildfire; there was no denying that any longer.

Her laughter echoed in response—a sound devoid of warmth and filled instead with delight at my pain. And somehow, that was worse than any physical blow she could have delivered.

The battle between us raged on silently; no punches were thrown here—but it felt just as violent as any fight could be.

The breath left my lungs. My fists clenched. My body shook with a rage that threatened to consume me whole. I wanted to hit something—destroy everything in sight until there was nothing left but the remnants of my own chaos.

Then—

A voice cut through the air, sharp and furious.

“He’s not weak.”

I turned, stomach dropping as if I’d stepped off a ledge. Holly stood at the end of the hallway, her figure illuminated by the dim light overhead, but it wasn’t just her appearance that struck me; it was the fire in her eyes that caught me off guard.

She had never looked more beautiful—or more fierce.

Her hair framed her face, damp from the summer rain, cascading around her shoulders like a wild mane. The dress she wore clung to her curves in a way that made my heart race, but it was the intensity in her gaze that captivated me most.

I could see the determination etched into her features, a resolve I hadn’t seen before. It sent an electric shock through me, snapping me out of my fury and straight into something sharper—a vulnerability I’d spent years building walls around.

“Don’t you dare say he’s weak,” she continued, stepping closer with each word like a warrior preparing for battle. “You don’t get to do that. Not to him.”

Every syllable dripped with defiance as she faced down my mother’s twisted words, and I felt a rush of emotions surge within me—gratitude mixed with anger and confusion. How could she care enough to challenge my mother?

Holly didn’t back down as she reached the edge of my fury, eyes unwavering as they locked onto mine.

I felt the air thicken as my mother exhaled in irritation, her patience clearly wearing thin.

“You just can’t stay away, can you?” she asked, her tone dripping with disdain.

Holly didn’t flinch. Her expression remained resolute as she squared her shoulders, a fierce determination radiating from her. “Stay the hell away from him.”

I shook my head, stepping forward, caught between wanting to protect Holly and the instinct to defend myself. “Holly?—”

My mother scoffed, setting her drink down with a dismissive clink that sent a shiver down my spine. “You think you can fix him? He’s broken, darling. I made sure of that.”

Holly’s fists clenched at her sides, defiance etched into every feature of her face. “No. You tried to break him. But you failed.”

For the first time, I saw something flash in my mother’s eyes—a coldness that sent an icy grip around my heart. Displeasure mixed with a hint of something darker flickered beneath her carefully constructed facade.

Before I could intervene, it happened in a blur. My mother moved with lightning speed and slapped Holly across the face.

The sharp sound echoed down the hall like a gunshot.

Time froze for a heartbeat as I processed what had just occurred. Holly stumbled back slightly but quickly steadied herself, rage igniting in her eyes while I felt fury boiling within me.

I moved instantly, adrenaline surging through my veins. My body reacted before my mind caught up, every instinct screaming to protect her. But before I could reach them, before I could close the distance and put myself between Holly and my mother, it happened.

Holly slapped her right back.

The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the hallway, sharp and electric. Time seemed to freeze around us. My mother’s hand lingered in the air, stunned, as if she couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

Holly didn’t even blink.

The moment hung heavy in the air, thick with tension and disbelief. I felt something wild ignite in my chest—a combination of pride and rage mixed with something deeper I couldn't quite name. She stood her ground, unyielding in the face of my mother’s manipulative cruelty.

My breath hitched as I stepped between them, positioning myself like a shield against whatever storm was brewing. I could feel the heat radiating from both women, one full of cold entitlement and the other brimming with fierce defiance.

“Enough,” I said, voice low and lethal.

The way my mother’s eyes narrowed made it clear she didn’t take kindly to being challenged. But I didn’t care about that right now; all that mattered was Holly standing behind me.

“You touch her again,” I continued, each word measured but dripping with intent. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

The air crackled with tension as my mother’s expression shifted from shock to outrage. “Damien,” she started, but I cut her off.

“I mean it.” The words came out rougher than intended, a warning wrapped in an unyielding promise.

I felt Holly shift slightly behind me. Whatever this moment had sparked—whatever it meant—I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her again. Not now. Not ever.

His mother watched me carefully, that sharp smile creeping across her lips like a predator savoring its catch.

“Oh, Damien.” Her voice dripped with a condescending sweetness that made my skin crawl. “You’ve finally found something worth protecting.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. I could feel the heat rising in my chest, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to explode if she pushed any further. But this? This was different. I had Holly by my side, and that made everything else fade into insignificance.

Holly grabbed my hand, squeezing tight as if she could sense the storm brewing inside me. Her touch anchored me, grounding me in a way I hadn’t felt in years. The connection between us pulsed like electricity, pulling me back from the edge.

“Let’s go,” she said softly, her voice steady and calm despite the chaos swirling around us.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t fight it. I let her take me away from my mother’s suffocating presence, away from the manipulations and lies that had plagued my life for too long.

As we walked together through the hallways of the venue, each step felt lighter than the last. The distance grew between us and the twisted games she played—a barrier I had yearned for.

But as we reached the door leading outside, something shifted inside me. A mix of relief and lingering anger threatened to bubble over again at the thought of what had just happened—my mother’s venomous words still echoed in my mind.

Regardless, Holly remained beside me, her hand warm and reassuring in mine. With every moment we spent together, I could feel the walls around my heart cracking just a little more.

And as we stepped into the cool evening air, rain still sprinkling, I realized this was no longer just about escaping my mother’s grasp; it was about choosing to fight for something real—something worth holding onto for once.

So when Holly turned to look at me, her eyes searching mine for reassurance or perhaps understanding, I knew this was just the beginning of something new.