Page 100 of Tear Me Down (Descent to Darkness Trilogy #2)

Chapter forty-five

Ashia

When we finally got home, Damien held my hand so tightly I thought he would crush it.

We both thought I would be terrified to walk back in, but the reality was that I didn’t feel any differently than I normally do.

The same warm feeling was there, and to my surprise, there wasn’t a dark cloud looming over me like I expected.

Though it was clear the space was cleaned up before we returned.

There was no blood staining the hard wood floors, and there was seemingly no trace of any altercations.

When we walked into our bedroom, I wasn’t looking at the spot where I killed a man or reimagining the violence of when I was taken.

Even with the brand-new door to what will be the nursery, it was just our room.

Our own personal getaway that smells and feels like us, and it felt good to walk back in and sense that hadn't changed.

Serena and Carter are going to be staying with us for at least a week, and while we told them they didn't have to, they insisted on it.

Ser argued that once Damien finally crashes, we may need them here to ensure we both take our meds at the right times.

On the off-chance Damien needs help, I'm not supposed to lift anything heavy—including him, obviously, and that was Carter's argument.

So, this is about to be a very long and awkward week, but they've kept it amicable this long. Hopefully they can continue to do so.

Damien is really struggling, and I can see how much pain he's in. His movements are slow, and even now as we stand under the running water of our shower, his body is tense and strained, clearly in turmoil. We take turns washing away the dirt and grime of the day, along with the blood that coats Damien’s body—whether that be his own or Dranan’s, I’m unsure.

Serena got us an antibacterial soap that she insisted we use, and while it’s not very soft or filling the bathroom with a warm fragrance, she swears it will help our wounds heal.

My stitches were taken out this morning, while he still has quite a few, but navigating around them is actually more satisfying than it should be.

They’re allowed to get wet, but soaking them isn’t the best idea, so I’m trying to be careful with his body, even though he doesn’t seem to care about it.

We finally turn the water off and step out, carefully dabbing each other dry so we don’t aggravate our wounds.

Only a few of mine, including my newest one, need to be covered with some sort of dressing, but Damien?

He still has bullet and stab wounds that need to be painted with ointment and protected.

I can tell just by how bruised, swollen, and angry they look that they’re excruciating.

I try to lay the gauze on tenderly, but I don’t miss how his body tenses up when I touch them .

Once it’s covered, I put the supplies away in the drawer and we both dress in some comfortable clothes.

He slips on a pair of sweatpants, but doesn’t put on a shirt, and I just slip on some sleep shorts and a loose tank top.

That way we’re not completely exposed when Serena inevitably bursts into our room unannounced for our meds.

Just as we’re about to step back into the bedroom, he grips my hand, stopping me and turning me to face him. His lips find mine in a soft, but desperate kiss—one that conveys all of his worry and guilt. I pull back to look at him, but he leans in again and rests his forehead on mine.

“I swear I'm going to be better for you,” he whispers quietly, barely audible. His words are pained, tortured, and filled with regret.

“Damien…”

“I am. I'm going to be the best husband, and the best dad. I swear to you…”

“Hey.” I caress his cheeks, trying to convince him to open his eyes and look at me.

He does reluctantly, almost as if he feels he doesn’t deserve to lay his eyes upon me.

“I know you are. You don’t have to prove or try to convince me of that.

You're going to be an amazing dad, and you've been an incredible husband. I’ve never thought otherwise.”

He nods in my hand, and I wipe away a tear dripping from his eyes. His body tenses as he takes a deep breath, and the trembles that follow are heartbreaking.

“Please don’t leave me…” The torment in his words grips my heart and squeezes it tightly.

The idea of not having him beside me is almost crippling, and the pain in his voice tells me he really believes that I would walk away from him after everything that’s happened.

I grab his face with my other hand and hold his head firmly, trying to convey the conviction behind my words.

“Never. You’re stuck with me, Damien.” He kisses my forehead before kneeling and kissing my abdomen, burying his face into my stomach and caressing it with his thumb.

I hate seeing him in so much pain, so much turmoil, both emotional and physical.

He’s never been one to be easy on himself, and while I know we both have a lot of healing to get through, it’s just going to take time.

I could confess my love for him every second of the next week, and it wouldn’t be enough for him.

His guilt and self-doubt will eat at him regardless, and the most I can do right now is comfort him while we work through our pain.

“Let’s get you to bed, baby. You should lie down.

” He nods and stands back up with a grunt, clearly struggling.

As we approach the bed, I let him climb in first, watching as his muscles tighten and twitch as he lays down.

The sight makes me want to cry, watching him strain so much, but I keep it together and slide in beside him.

He pulls me tightly against him, and I can feel his body screaming for rest. Now that his mission is complete, and Dranan is dead, his breathing is deep and rigid again.

With what he did today, I’m shocked he hasn’t passed out.

“I wish you would take something, Damien. You're in a lot of pain. ”

“I can't take care of you if I'm high.” He shakes his head and traces gentle circles on my back.

“Ser and Carter are here and can take care of something if I need them to. You can’t get much rest if you're in this much pain.”

“If you feel it, I feel it.” He murmurs against my forehead, as if his words are carved in stone. Normally, I wouldn’t argue, submitting to his demands almost immediately, but not this time.

“I think it’s a little different, Damien. I wasn’t blown up or shot.” A chuckled huff escapes my lips. “We should’ve stayed at the hospital, I'm worried about you.” My fingers lightly trace the gauze that lay on top of his stab wound, remembering how agonizing it looked just a few minutes ago.

“I'm okay, baby girl. As long as you're right next to me, I'm fine.”

“Well, don’t worry, I won’t be leaving this spot for a good while.”

“Good.” He reaches down and kisses my cheek, letting his lips linger there a moment longer than he should. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think I am, actually,” I admit, and he nods as he tightens his grip on me, like at any moment I’ll change my mind and start packing my things.

I bury my face in his neck, and I can feel the trembling beneath his skin, a crystal-clear sign of his anguish.

“But you're not, Damien. Take something? Please?” I beg.

“I don’t think Tylenol is going to help.”

“You may be the most stubborn person I know. There are other options, and they’re sitting in a bottle right down the hall.

You don’t need to suffer, Damien. I need you to be okay.

You've endured enough.” He closes his eyes as he takes in another rigid breath, debating it for my sanity, if anything, but I know his stubborn ass, and he’s never going to agree to it on his own.

“I'm going to get them.” I kiss his cheek and gently make my way to the edge of the bed before he grabs my hand.

“You better lay the fuck back down. You’ve been up and moving too much today as it is,” he demands, and while his protective nature always warms my chest, I snap back.

“No. You're not going to keep putting yourself through this, Damien. You are not going to keep punishing yourself for something that isn’t your fault. I'll be right back.” I pull my hand from his as I stand up and walk out of the room, making my way down the hall. His grunt sounds out behind me, but I ignore it and keep going, sure that we'll argue about it later. As I approach the room Carter is staying in, I hear soft moans and other noises I probably shouldn’t, immediately making me take a step back. They’re finally making up, and now I’m about to ruin it?

God, I’m such a bitch, but I can’t go back without his pain medication.

I reluctantly knock on the door and call out. “Sorry to bother you, Carter. ”

“Shit.” I hear him say on the other side of the door, followed by a loud thud, like he fell off the bed, and a quiet gasp from Ser. It’s only a matter of seconds before he swings the door open, shirtless and pants only halfway on.

“I’m really sorry.” I cringe.

“No, I'm sorry, Ash. We’re not here for this. It shouldn’t have happened,” he spits out, but I can see the moment when what he says registers on his face, and his features sink.

Serena scoffs and shakes her head, clearly pissed off as she stands up, and pulls her shorts back up, but walks out with only her bra on.

“You’re totally right,” she sneers as she walks past him.

“Shit, Ser, come on. I didn’t mean that.” He goes to grab her hand, but she jerks it away and continues down the hall towards her room, her strides strong and determined. Once she gets to the door, she turns to me with enough force that her hair flips over her shoulders.

“I’ll be in your room in two hours for your meds, okay?” she confirms angrily, and I just nod as she steps into her room and slams the door. I can hear the lock engage from here, and I turn back to Carter with a guilty expression.