Page 33

Chapter 33

Holly

I woke up alone; the sheets tangled around me, a delicious ache coursing through my body. I stretched, relishing the warmth and softness of the bed, feeling content for the first time in ages. The memories of last night flickered through my mind—Damien’s kiss, the way he held me like I was the only thing keeping him anchored. But then a shadow crossed over that happiness.

Damien's outburst on the ice replayed in my head like a broken record. I worried about his future—the risk he’d taken by letting rage consume him. But running away? That wasn’t an option for me anymore.

With a sigh, I pushed off the covers and padded down to the kitchen. The smell of eggs wafted through the air, and I found Everly standing at the stove, her hair pulled back in a messy bun.

“Good morning!” she chirped, her face lighting up as she turned to me.

“Morning,” I replied, forcing a smile despite my swirling thoughts.

As we exchanged pleasantries, my phone buzzed on the counter. I grabbed it eagerly, thinking it might be Damien checking in after everything that had happened. But when I saw the name flashing on the screen—one that sent a chill down my spine—I froze.

It was Damien’s mother.

I hesitated before opening the message. My stomach dropped as I read her request:

We need to talk about Damien.

I should have ignored it. Blocked her number without a second thought and put her out of my mind for good. But something kept me rooted to the spot.

This wasn’t just about me anymore; this was about Damien too.

So with shaking fingers, I typed out a reply:

Fine. I’ll come. But after this, we’re done.

I hit send before I could change my mind.

“Everything okay?” Everly asked, glancing up from the stove where she was scrambling eggs.

I looked up from my phone and sighed. “It’s Damien’s mother,” I said, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

Everly stiffened, her cheerful demeanor slipping. “What does she want?”

“She wants to talk about Damien,” I replied, bracing myself for her reaction.

“Holl,” she warned, her voice low. “I don’t know?—”

“I know,” I interrupted, cutting her off. “But…”

“But?” Everly pressed, eyebrows raised.

“I have to try,” I insisted, swallowing hard. “You don’t understand. This woman… she has a way of twisting everything.”

I didn’t want to spill everything about my history with Damien's family. The emotional scars left by his mother were not something I wanted to share—not even with Everly, who always seemed to know when something was off with me.

“Just… be careful,” she said, her voice softening as concern filled her eyes. “Make sure your phone is charged, and if you need anything, call. Or text.”

I gave her a long look, taking in the way she cared for me like a sister would. Then I pulled her into a hug, feeling the warmth of her friendship wrap around me like a blanket against the chill that crept in whenever I thought of facing Damien’s mother alone.

“I’m lucky you’re my best friend,” I murmured into her shoulder.

Everly grinned against my hair. “Same,” she replied. “Now eat before you leave.” She nudged a plate toward me, steam rising from the scrambled eggs and toast piled high.

With a resigned sigh, I sat at the table and forced myself to take a bite while my mind raced with thoughts of what awaited me later that day. Each forkful felt heavy as if they weighed down the tension in the air between us—a palpable worry about what this conversation could lead to.

As I chewed slowly, contemplating the implications of what Damien's mother might say or demand from me, Everly watched silently but attentively. Her presence felt reassuring amid the storm brewing inside me; it was hard to remember when I’d ever felt so vulnerable yet determined at once.

After breakfast, I changed quickly, slipping into a pair of jeans and a simple top. The weight of what I was about to face pressed against my chest like a heavy stone, but I pushed through the unease. I couldn’t let fear hold me back—not today.

As I drove toward the Sinclaire estate, my thoughts raced with memories of Damien and his family. The sprawling mansion loomed ahead, its pristine facade contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside me. I parked in front of the grand entrance and took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead.

I knocked on the door, my heart pounding against my ribs as silence enveloped me.

No answer.

After a moment’s hesitation, I stepped inside. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a cold interior that felt almost too quiet—a stark reminder of the absence that hung over this place.

I moved cautiously through the foyer, each step echoing off the walls. The memories pressed in on me—the laughter from past parties, Damien's teasing smile when he’d caught me off guard—but now those echoes felt haunting.

In the dimly lit parlor, I spotted her—Damien’s mother—sitting gracefully in an armchair with a glass of wine cradled in her hand and a candle on the stand next to her. It smelled like vanilla. Her eyes were sharp as they met mine, and an unsettling smirk played at her lips.

“I knew you’d come,” she said smoothly.

I crossed my arms tightly around myself, trying to mask how her presence unsettled me. My voice came out flat as I replied, “Say what you need to say. This is the last time we’re doing this.”

She took her time sipping from her glass, letting the silence stretch between us like an invisible barrier. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?”

The words struck deep, making me stiffen instinctively.

“This isn’t a game,” I shot back.

His mother smirked, standing with an elegance that felt all too predatory. “Of course it is. And you don’t even realize you’re losing.”

The air turned electric, and my heart raced as I tried to gauge her intentions. Something sharp and metallic flashed in her hand, and it took a split second for my mind to register what it was—a knife.

Panic surged through me, but before I could react, she lunged forward. Adrenaline shot through my veins as I stumbled back, trying to dodge her attack.

A sharp pain sliced across my arm. I gasped, feeling warmth trickle down to my wrist as I stumbled further away from her reach. The shock was immediate; I barely had time to process what had just happened before instinct kicked in.

“Why are you doing this?” I cried out, pressing my palm against the wound to staunch the bleeding.

She paused for a moment, that twisted smile still etched on her face as she regarded me like I was nothing more than a plaything. “You think you can come into our lives and take him from me? You’re wrong.”

I could feel the sting of betrayal slicing deeper than the physical pain coursing through my arm. How could she think this would work? Did she truly believe violence would drive me away? My thoughts raced—Damien wouldn’t want this. He’d never want this.

“You’ll regret getting involved with him,” she continued, stepping closer despite the distance I tried to create between us.

Every instinct screamed at me to run, but something anchored me in place—fear mixed with a strange resolve.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” I shot back, even though my voice wavered slightly under the weight of her icy gaze.

The tension hung thick in the air between us like a noose tightening around my throat. The knife glinted ominously in her hand as she took another step toward me. My heart thundered in my chest; every part of me screamed for escape.

But all I could do was hold my ground, ready to fight if necessary—because there was no way I would let Damien’s mother take anything from me again.

The wine glass shattered against the floor, sending shards scattering like jagged stars. Suddenly, flames licked at the edges of the curtains, their orange tongues flickering hungrily. Where had they come from? A candle? It must have gotten knocked over when the wine did.

Smoke filled the air, swirling around me as panic surged through my veins. I could barely think past the acrid smell and the choking haze, but one thing remained clear—Damien’s mother stood in front of me, a twisted smile still plastered on her face.

She lunged again, knife glinting in the firelight. My heart raced as I sidestepped her attack, adrenaline sharpening my senses. I grabbed her wrist with both hands, twisting it hard until I heard a sharp gasp escape her lips and felt the knife slip from her grasp. It clattered to the floor, ringing out against the chaos surrounding us.

“Enough!” I shouted, fueled by desperation and anger.

With a sudden burst of strength, I shoved her back against the burning curtains. The fabric ignited instantly, flames roaring higher as they consumed it. She stumbled but didn’t fall—her eyes widened in shock and fury as she struggled to regain her balance.

I pressed forward, adrenaline surging through me as I locked my grip tighter around her wrist. “You won’t hurt him anymore!” I shouted over the crackling fire.

The heat from the flames wrapped around us like an embrace, making it hard to breathe. The room was quickly filling with smoke; it stung my eyes and made my throat feel tight. But all that mattered was this moment—this confrontation.

Her face contorted in rage as she pushed against me with surprising force. “You think you can take him from me? You’ll regret this!”

I met her gaze head-on; fear clashed with resolve in my chest. “You’re wrong! You’ve made his life hell for too long!”

As she fought to pull free, my heart pounded louder than the roar of the fire surrounding us. Flames danced closer to my skin; the heat intensified with each passing second. But I couldn’t back down now—not when Damien’s future depended on it.

I felt the world tilt as Damien’s mother shoved against me; her nails digging into my skin like daggers. The fire crackled behind us, its heat licking at my back, but all I could focus on was her furious expression.

“You don’t deserve him!” she snarled, venom dripping from each word.

My heart raced, and I tightened my grip around her wrist, refusing to let go. “Neither do you,” I shot back, the words escaping before I could think better of them.

Her fingers coiled around my throat, squeezing with an iron grip. I gasped, the air suddenly thick and suffocating. The room spun as panic surged through me. I struggled against her hold, our bodies colliding in a chaotic dance of desperation and rage.

The smoke filled my lungs, but it wasn’t just the fire that threatened to consume me; it was her fury. She squeezed harder, a twisted smile forming on her lips as if relishing in my struggle. I fought back with everything I had left, nails digging into her flesh in retaliation.

But then something shifted inside me—a moment of clarity amid the chaos. My fight began to drain away with every second she held me captive in this nightmare. Her face morphed from anger to triumph, feeding off my weakening resistance.

I went still beneath her grasp, breath hitching as the fight left my body.

For a heartbeat that felt like eternity, we locked eyes. My heart pounded violently against my ribcage while hers danced with dark satisfaction.

Then something inside snapped within me—I wouldn’t let her win this battle. With a sudden surge of determination that coursed through every vein in my body, I leaned closer and whispered fiercely into her face, “You will never control him again.”

And just like that—the resolve returned.

I wasn't sure what happened next—one moment I was caught in the whirlwind of Damien's mother's fury, and the next, I found myself shifting my weight, forcing her down until she was beneath me.

Her eyes widened in shock as I pinned her to the ground. The heat of the flames danced around us, but all I could focus on was the rage coursing through my veins.

“Let go of me!” she spat, her voice laced with venom.

I pressed down harder, feeling a surge of power. “You think you can threaten him? You think you can ruin his life anymore than you already have, you sick cunt?"

The words burst from me like a dam breaking, fueled by everything she had done to him—everything she still tried to do. I leaned closer, feeling the heat of her body beneath mine as I wrapped my fingers around her throat. The slickness of sweat mingled with smoke, filling my senses with a mix of fear and determination.

“Stop!” she gasped, but it only pushed me further into a frenzy.

I tightened my grip; the adrenaline surging through me like fire. Her eyes darted between fear and fury as I choked out the truth. “You will never control him again! He’s not yours to manipulate!”

The fight in her eyes dimmed for just a moment; something flickered behind them—shock or disbelief, maybe—but I didn't let up. With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed against her throat until she stilled beneath me.

Time slowed as silence enveloped us in that burning room; the chaos faded into the background.

I didn’t want to feel triumphant; part of me recoiled at what I was doing. But there was no room for hesitation now—not when Damien’s life hung in the balance.

With one final push against her throat, I felt her body go limp beneath me, and suddenly everything went quiet.

The fire roared behind me, a fierce beast consuming everything in its path. Flames licked at the expensive curtains, crawling hungrily up the walls, illuminating the room with a terrifying glow. Smoke filled the air, stinging my eyes and forcing me to cough violently.

I looked down at Damien’s mother, her body limp beneath my hands. The woman who had abused him for years, who had twisted his world into something dark and painful. I could feel her pulse beneath my fingers, weak and fading. In that moment, part of me hesitated.

I could help her. I could try to drag her out of here, away from the flames and smoke that were closing in around us like a tightening noose. But as I stared at her face, I felt something shift inside me.

No. I couldn’t save her.

I let go.

The moment my hands released their grip on her throat, an unfamiliar sense of freedom washed over me. I staggered back as the fire raged on behind me, heat enveloping my skin like an angry embrace. The weight of everything I had done pressed against my chest, but it felt lighter now that she was no longer under my control.

She would never stop if she survived this. The thought echoed through my mind like a warning bell, urging me to move faster, to escape this place before it consumed us both.

As I stumbled toward the door, smoke curled around me like tendrils seeking to pull me back into darkness. My heart raced; each beat felt loud and frantic in the chaos surrounding us. With every step away from her body on the floor—the body of a woman who had caused so much pain—I felt a surge of strength.

I stepped outside, the cool morning air rushing over me like a balm against the heat of the flames that still flickered in the house. My lungs burned as I gasped for breath, my hands shaking uncontrollably. The adrenaline surged through my veins, mixing with the dread that clung to me like a second skin.

Then I saw it—headlights cutting through the darkness, screeching to a stop in the driveway. My heart raced as I turned toward the sound, praying it was who I hoped it would be.

Damien.

He got out fast, his eyes wide as they took in the flames licking hungrily at the side of the house. The shock registered on his face as he scanned the scene before settling on me.

Time slowed down.

His gaze locked onto mine, and everything else faded into insignificance. I could see him processing what had happened—the fire, the destruction—but more importantly, he was taking in me: blood smeared across my hands from where I’d fought against his mother and smoke curling around my skin like a shroud.

I stood frozen for a moment, uncertainty gripping my heart as he drew closer. His expression shifted from panic to something deeper—something fierce—as he reached me. The warmth radiating off him cut through the chill of the night air.

He didn’t ask what happened.

Because he knew.

The tension hung thick between us as I stood there, my hands trembling slightly at my sides, blood still fresh on my fingers from where I’d fought back against her.

Damien’s eyes bore into mine, a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. The raw anger and fear coiled tight in my chest, but I held my ground, forcing myself to breathe steadily.

“She’ll never hurt you again,” I promised, my voice steady despite the chaos that had just unfolded.

Damien’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took, something unreadable flickering in his expression—perhaps relief, or maybe it was disbelief. It was hard to tell when his face remained so guarded. I wanted to reach out to him, to show him that he didn’t have to be alone in this anymore, that we could face whatever came next together.

But he stepped toward me instead.

And he didn’t stop.

With every inch that closed between us, the weight of everything we’d faced—the pain, the fear, the unyielding darkness of his past—seemed to dissolve into the air. He moved with purpose now, like a predator who had finally caught sight of its prey. My heart raced as he crossed the final distance between us.

“Damien…”

I barely whispered his name before he enveloped me in his arms, pulling me close against him as if he were trying to shield me from all the hurt and chaos around us. The warmth of his body seeped through my clothes; it felt like home amidst the flames and smoke still billowing from behind us.

“I thought…” His voice was low, strained with emotion that wrapped around us both like a heavy fog. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“You haven’t.” I looked up into his eyes, feeling every beat of my heart echo in tandem with his own. “You’re safe now.”