Page 31

Chapter 31

Holly

T he crowd was a chaotic symphony of screams, whistles, and clattering skates echoing against the ice. But all I could see was Damien.

He stood in the center of the rink, gloves discarded, fists pounding relentlessly into the opposing player. Each hit landed with a sickening thud, a visceral reminder of the rage that fueled him. Blood streaked the ice, vibrant against the white canvas, but Damien didn’t care. He continued to unleash his fury, over and over again, each blow more brutal than the last.

My stomach twisted as I watched. This wasn’t just a fight; it was a meltdown—a complete destruction of everything he had been trying to build. The other player had stopped fighting back entirely, crumpled on the ice like a rag doll. Yet Damien showed no signs of slowing down. He moved with an intensity I had never seen before, lost in whatever dark place had taken hold of him.

“Damien!” I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the chaos. The refs were frantically blowing their whistles, trying to regain control of the situation, but it felt futile against Damien's rage.

I could feel panic rising within me as I stepped closer to the glass barrier separating us from that hellish scene. My heart pounded violently in my chest; I wanted to reach through and pull him away from this destruction.

The image of his fists crashing down again and again seared into my mind—this wasn’t just physical pain he was inflicting; it felt like he was trying to obliterate something deeper within himself too.

“Stop!” I yelled again, desperation creeping into my voice. But he didn’t hear me—didn’t even look up. All that mattered was the release coursing through him, fueling his every strike.

Each moment stretched into eternity as I stood there helplessly watching Damien unravel before me.

I pressed my hands against the glass, screaming, “Damien, stop!” The words tore from my throat, raw and desperate. But he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care. It was as if he was lost in a world where nothing else mattered except for the chaos consuming him.

The refs finally intervened, rushing in with authority. They wrapped their arms around him, pulling him away from the crumpled figure on the ice. I felt a moment of relief wash over me, but it was quickly overshadowed by dread as I saw Damien’s chest heaving, his face twisted with fury.

His hands were covered in blood—crimson splatters painting his knuckles like a gruesome trophy. The sight turned my stomach. My pulse thundered in my ears as I took a step back from the glass, feeling faint. This was bad. Oh God, this was so fucking bad.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. The way his jaw clenched and teeth ground together told me everything I needed to know; he was spiraling further into darkness. There was a cruel edge to his mouth—a smirk that felt wrong amidst the violence.

“Damien!” I shouted again, but it fell flat against the din of the crowd's shock and excitement. They were on their feet now, some cheering for the fight while others screamed at the refs to regain control.

My breath quickened as he finally turned to look at me. Those stormy blue eyes held a wild intensity that sent chills down my spine; it felt like they were searching for something—or someone—to lash out at next.

Don’t you see what you’re doing? I thought desperately. But he didn’t seem to understand how much danger he was putting himself in—not just physically but emotionally too.

As the officials dragged him away from the ice, a knot tightened in my chest. All I could think about was reaching out to him, but what would I say? Would he even listen?

I turned, scanning the crowd around me for someone—anyone—who could help. The crowd was a sea of faces, excitement and horror blending into a blur. My heart raced as I searched for a familiar figure, desperate for support in this moment of insanity.

And there he was—Cooper. He moved with purpose, heading straight down toward the rink, determination etched into his features. Relief flooded through me at the sight of him. Maybe he could reach Damien before it was too late.

As I stood there, my breath hitching in my throat, I watched him being dragged off the ice by the refs. His body stiffened as they pulled him away from the scene of his rage. But then he turned, and suddenly our eyes locked.

In that instant, everything else faded away. The noise of the crowd vanished; it felt like we were suspended in time. I saw it—the shift on his face. For just one fleeting second, something broke through the storm in his gaze.

He saw me.

He saw what he had done—not just to that guy on the ice but to himself. The fury that had consumed him melted away, replaced by something softer yet heavier—a flicker of fear. It was as if he recognized how wrecked I looked, how this all felt like an unending nightmare.

For a moment, Damien’s arrogance cracked, revealing a vulnerability that left me breathless. The anger faded from his features; all that remained was confusion and dread swirling within those stormy blue eyes.

I wanted to reach out—to call out to him and tell him everything would be okay—but the words stuck in my throat. All I could do was stand frozen in place as he faced what he had become—and maybe what we both were becoming.

As Cooper approached him with steady steps, ready to intervene, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a turning point for Damien—a glimpse of who he really was beneath all that anger. And in that single glance between us, I felt hope flicker even now.

I pushed through the crowd, heart racing and adrenaline pumping. I shoved past security without a second thought, ignoring their shouts and protests. All that mattered was reaching Damien. I wouldn’t let anyone stand in my way—not the refs, not his teammates, and certainly not anyone who thought they could keep me from him.

By the time I reached the locker room, chaos erupted inside. The sounds of yelling filled the air—voices overlapping, frustration palpable. Coach’s voice cut through it all, demanding control while my stomach twisted with anxiety.

“Sinclaire! What the fuck were you thinking?”

I shoved the door open without hesitation, barely registering the shouts of surprise that followed. My breath caught in my throat when I stepped inside.

Damien stood at the center of the storm, still covered in blood. His knuckles were raw and bruised, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He looked like a feral animal ready to pounce, eyes wild with fury and something darker simmering beneath the surface.

The air in the locker room felt thick with tension, every breath heavy and suffocating. Coach's voice boomed against the walls, echoing off the metal lockers as he lectured Damien.

“That was fucking reckless! You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself arrested even though you fucking deserved it!” His frustration radiated through the room, directed at Damien like a laser beam.

Damien didn’t respond. He just stood there, looking… blank. It was like he had already accepted whatever consequences came next, his expression distant and unfocused.

“Do you even care about the team?” he continued, pacing in front of him. “You think this is some kind of game? You’ve got talent, but if you keep this up?—”

“Damien,” I said softly, willing him to hear me above the din of frustration and anger swirling around us.

His head snapped up at the sound of my voice, his eyes meeting mine across the chaos of the locker room. Something flickered across his face—relief mingled with guilt, something in between that made my chest ache.

For a moment, it felt like everything else faded away—the yelling from Coach and the tension in the air evaporated as our gazes locked. Everything became background noise.

His expression shifted slightly at my words; it was almost imperceptible but enough to send warmth flooding through me—a reminder that he wasn’t completely lost yet.

Cooper exhaled sharply, the sound slicing through the tension in the room.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” he said, his voice firm but understanding.

The coach opened his mouth as if to argue, but Cooper shot him a warning look that brooked no dissent. A few seconds later, the door shut behind them, leaving Damien and me in silence.

The air felt thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Damien stood rigidly, muscles taut as he stared at the ground, blood still smeared across his knuckles—a brutal reminder of what had just happened.

My chest tightened as I exhaled shakily. “What the hell was that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He scoffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, frustration radiating off him like heat from a fire. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Damien? Ask why you just threw away everything?” My jaw clenched at the unfairness of it all—the way he brushed off my concern like it was nothing.

His eyes flashed up to meet mine for a split second before they dropped again. He looked so lost, so wrapped up in whatever chaos raged inside him it made my heart ache. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

I stepped closer, forcing him to look at me again. “Then make me understand.” The words slipped out with more urgency than I intended. This wasn’t just about hockey or anger; this was about us—about the darkness that always seemed to creep back into his life whenever he tried to fight it off.

He shook his head slowly, as if that simple action could clear away everything weighing on us both. “You know why."

My heart raced as I processed what he was saying. I had seen glimpses of the man behind the anger—someone who cared deeply but kept getting pushed down by the weight of his past. “Damien,” I pressed gently, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between us.

He finally looked up at me fully—those stormy blue eyes filled with something raw and unguarded that made me shiver. But just as quickly as it appeared, that vulnerability slipped away behind walls he’d built high around himself.

I swallowed hard, the words thick in my throat. “Because of what they said about me.”

His silence was all the confirmation I needed. It broke something inside me, shattering the fragile hold I had on my emotions.

I stepped even closer, my voice shaking as I pushed through the hurt. “You think I give a damn what people say about me?”

Damien exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of a bench like it was his lifeline. “I do.”

My breath caught in my throat. The weight of his words crashed down around us, heavy and suffocating. Because that was the real answer—his admission cut deeper than any fist could have. It wasn’t rage or pride that drove him; it was fear. Fear of losing me to their whispers and judgment.

He stood there, muscles taut and jaw clenched, his vulnerability flashing in those eyes. It made my heart ache because I knew how much he struggled with that darkness inside him—the part that made him feel unworthy of love, unworthy of me.

“Damien,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath as I reached out to touch his arm, grounding myself in this moment between us.

He flinched slightly at my touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he stared at the ground like it held all the answers he couldn’t face. “You don’t know what they say… what they think.”

“Then tell me,” I urged softly. “Don’t let their words define you.”

His gaze snapped up to meet mine then, filled with confusion and something else—longing? Desperation? I wasn’t sure. But it was enough to make me take another step forward, closing the space between us until we were inches apart.

The tension between us crackled like static in the air. I could feel it, the weight of his fear and desperation wrapped around us like a thick fog. Damien cared too much, and that thought sent my heart racing. He would burn down his whole fucking world to protect me, and that terrified me more than anything else.

I reached out, brushing my fingers over his cheek, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “You didn’t have to do this,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips.

His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him. The heat radiating from his body wrapped around me like a blanket. “I don’t know how else to protect you,” he admitted, his voice raw and edged with something I couldn’t quite place.

My heart cracked wide open at his confession. It wasn’t just about the anger or the violence—it was deeper than that. He was lost in a storm of emotions that threatened to consume him whole, and all I wanted was to anchor him back to reality.

Damien pressed his forehead against mine, breathing hard as if every breath he took fought against an invisible weight. His entire body was tense, like he was barely holding himself together. The vulnerability in that moment felt sacred; it felt like we were standing on the precipice of everything.

I cupped his jaw with both hands, forcing him to look at me. “You’re not protecting me, Damien. You’re punishing yourself.” My voice trembled as I spoke those words; I could see the pain etched across his face.

His grip tightened on my hips, almost as if he feared I would slip away from him again. “I can’t fucking lose you.”

Those words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. They sliced through any remnants of doubt lingering in my mind about where we stood—or what we were becoming together.

I swallowed hard, blinking back tears that threatened to spill over. “Then stop pushing me away.”

His eyes darkened, the storm within them swirling more fiercely than ever. I noticed his hands shake slightly at his sides, betraying the chaos brewing just beneath his surface.

For the first time, I saw it—the fear beneath all that rage. It wrapped around my heart like a vice, squeezing tightly. I couldn’t ignore it any longer; this was more than just anger or pain—it was vulnerability, and it shattered my defenses.

“Let me love you, Damien,” I whispered, my voice barely carrying above the weight of everything hanging between us.

His throat worked as he processed my words, breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed the turmoil within him. The tension felt almost electric as I held his gaze, willing him to see that he didn’t have to face this alone.

Then, finally—finally—he leaned in.

He kissed me.

He kissed me hard and desperate, pouring every ounce of himself into that moment like I was the only thing keeping him from drowning in a sea of chaos. The heat of his mouth ignited a fire inside me, one I thought had been extinguished in the wake of all we had endured.

I melted against him, feeling the weight of his body press against mine as if he needed me just as much as I needed him. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding on tight as if he might slip away if I didn’t anchor him here.

Damien pulled me closer still, deepening the kiss until everything else fell away—the doubts, the fears, the judgment from others—and all that remained was this moment between us: raw and unguarded.

My heart raced in rhythm with our breaths mingling together as we lost ourselves in each other’s warmth. In that instant, nothing mattered but him and me—two souls colliding against all odds in a world that seemed determined to tear us apart.

The kiss felt like a promise; one that said we were still here despite everything threatening to drown us both.

He tugged off my pants with an urgency that left me breathless, never breaking the kiss. I felt the cold air hit my skin as he exposed me, but it only heightened the heat between us. In one swift motion, he lifted me up and slammed me against the wall.

His mouth left mine for a moment, just long enough to look into my eyes with a ferocity that made my heart race. And then he slammed inside of me.

The force of it took my breath away, and I gasped as he filled me completely. He didn't give me a chance to adjust or catch my breath; instead, he started moving with a relentless pace that left me clinging to him for dear life.

He fucked me against the wall like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me moan and gasp for air. I could feel his muscles tense and release with every movement, and I knew he was just as lost in this as I was.

His hands gripped my hips tightly, holding me in place as he drove into me over and over again. I could feel the sweat dripping down his back, and I knew he was giving everything he had to this moment.

The sounds of our bodies colliding filled the room, along with our ragged breaths and desperate moans. It was primal and raw, and it felt like we were tearing each other apart with every movement.

But even as the pleasure built inside of me, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just physical. There was something deeper happening here, something that went beyond the surface level of our bodies moving together.

I looked into his eyes and saw the same intensity reflected back at me. It was like we were communicating without words, saying things that couldn't be expressed any other way.

And then, just as I felt myself reaching the edge, he whispered my name. It was barely audible over the sound of our bodies, but it was enough to send me over the edge.

I came with a force that left me shaking and gasping for air. He followed soon after, his body tensing and releasing as he found his own release.

For a moment, we just stood there, panting and trying to catch our breath. And then he slowly lowered me to the ground, his arms still wrapped around me like he was afraid to let go.

I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as it slowly returned to normal. And in that moment, I knew that whatever happened next, we would face it together.