Page 23 of Tear Me Down (Descent to Darkness Trilogy #2)
“I don’t do a chain of command. You don’t have lieutenants, captains, or privates.
You have me, Zeke, Carter, and Alex.” Damien points to them.
“Besides us, we’ll say who takes point. That doesn’t mean that I doubt your knowledge or skills.
So, here’s what we’re going to do first: Alex is going to show you to the locker room so you can set your things down, and then you’re going to show me what you’ve got.
From there, we’ll decide what positions you’ll be best placed in. ”
Serena and I turn to see another car pull into the parking lot. A cute, mint green BMW drives up and parks beside the Charger, and after just a few moments, Melanie and Danielle step out of the car, quietly chatting amongst themselves as they walk over to us.
“Hey. What are you two doing here?” I ask quietly as Melanie pulls me in for a quick hug, then Danielle.
“I'm going to be finding housing for all of these guys. So, Dani is here to help me document everything—that way, I know what I'm looking for. Plus, we have to catalog skill sets, military positions, and clearances they still have. Things like that, so it’s easier for Damien to group them,” Melanie says professionally, as if she’s already on top of it, but I can see the dark circles under her eyes and how her body language droops.
Probably from lack of sleep due to her infant son.
“Serena and I will help, too.” I nod and introduce them to Ser. As I look back over, Damien turns and walks inside, allowing all of the men to follow, but leaving his father behind to witness.
It’s been three hours, and I feel like we’ve barely scratched the surface of these mercenaries.
Out of the forty, eight of them also have retired K-9 soldiers that require…
special accommodations, I should say. The one I’m sitting beside now, Daisy, is a very sweet girl.
A beautiful four-year-old German Shepherd who apparently looks and acts very sweet right now, but doesn’t always.
Her owner, Darnell, told me that once about every thirty days, she needs to… blow off some steam.
Daisy was part of a military operations project where the K-9 officers would hunt down and attack specific enemies whenever a laser pointer was aimed at them.
They would signal a command to ready the dogs, point the laser, and then speak the third command for them to attack.
Diesel and Dallas were also part of what they called Delta Squad and require the same accommodation.
They just need to be allowed to patrol every day with the men, or at least have some type of physical or mental stimulation.
So, I made sure to text Damien, so we know to create a schedule for them.
Now, once a month? They have to…get their energy out…
in a more aggressive way. That’s what Darnell and the other two owners told me, but I get the gist. It’s kind of like Damien in a way.
If his inner monster is caged in for too long, he gets antsy.
I figured a lot of the mercenaries would have families, but I’m surprised that not many of them do so far.
With their time and dedication to the military, most of them aren’t married.
Well , anymore I should say, and that makes my heart twang with sadness.
A lot of them don’t have kids either, and while they seem happy enough, some of them seemed almost pained to tell us that no one would be joining them in moving here.
Melanie tells them they can get set up in the bunk room while we find places for them to stay, and most of them are just as happy as if we had already found them a new home.
She said that a lot of these guys are used to being on the move, and don’t really have a place to settle down.
So, they’d probably be happy with anything stable right now.
As I jot down his details, I pet Daisy’s head, letting her soft fur glide between my fingers, and smile at her little dog grunts.
She has that blissed out, peaceful look that dogs get when you rub them just the right way, and it brings me so much serenity in all of this chaos.
Dogs have always had a calming affect on me, and even though I’m not sure how often I’ll actually be able to interact with this one, I already feel a special connection to her—like she already feels at home here.
I direct my gaze in Damien's direction, willing the wave of calmness to flow from me and into him, knowing he needs it.
Standing up and looking over at my irresistible fiancé, I watch as he continues to spar with the mercenaries one by one—assessing how they fight, how they hit, if they’re quick or slow.
Sweat drips down his bare chest as his heavy breaths force his ab muscles to heave up and down, and the beads run down to his V-line that points to his monstrous dick.
I feel the heat return between my legs, and my clit throbs as he stands and enjoys his latest act of violence.
One of the mercenaries is hunched over and grasping his midsection before Damien puts his hand out and helps him up, keeping his professional demeanor while letting some of his caring qualities shine through.
I focus back on his eyes to see him staring at me, smirking and starting to look more like his confident self, but when he looks away, he stops in his tracks.
Any ounce of confidence he was feeling crashes and burns, then turns to ice, hardening to stone.
I can see the rage wash over his body as I follow his line of sight to see one of the mercenaries staring at me.
His eyes are drooped and heavy, and when I meet his gaze, a grin grows on his face.
The posture that once looked stern outside is now languid and relaxed as he rakes his eyes down my body.
He’s checking me out? Seriously? Is he stupid? I go to look back to Damien, wanting him to know that I’m obviously not interested, but I don’t have to look far. He's already closing the gap between him and the soldier.
Oh shit .
Before I can register what’s happening, Damien storms up to him and punches him in the face, sending him to the floor with a thud so loud that it rings through the training area.
The man, Waylon I think, attempts to get up, but Damien is already on top of him.
He hits him in the face over and over again, not holding an ounce of violence back as he beats him mercilessly.
A part of me wants to run over and try to stop him, knowing that this could set off some bad tension between his normal guys and the soldiers, but the other half of me loves the way he looks.
I feel my breath stall as he continues to hit the man, and he tries to fight back, but Damien’s consistent punches keep him down.
I know that this is a chance for Damien to stake his claim. Show everyone that I’m his, and what happens when they question that. His possessiveness is not a trait to be taken lightly, and unfortunately, this man is finding that out the hard way.
I glance over at Mr. Hartley, and I don't expect what I find. He’s looking at Damien without an ounce of anger or disappointment—almost approval, and while Damien doesn't notice or care in the slightest right now, I either hope they can talk about this later or never bring it up again.
Looking back, I see that Damien has started to slow down.
Though the force of his hits hasn't let up, and I can see the bloodied pulp Waylon is from here.
The fire from his violence is heating me even through the distance, but I keep my breathing shallow, not wanting to show the entire room how turned on I am.
A small gasp grabs my attention, and I snap my head in Serena’s direction.
Her eyes are wide, and her jaw has gone slack, leaving her lips parted in an unbelievable expression.
She’s mortified, and that only makes me question my own sanity.
While yes, this display is deranged, I also find it hot as hell.
I’m sure she’ll have some words to say about it later, but for now, I’m glad she’s keeping her mouth shut—so she doesn’t escalate the already electric room.
Once Waylon finally grows weak enough and doesn’t try to resist anymore, Damien stands and kicks him in the ribcage, stomping fiercely with enough force to jolt his own body.
Waylon releases a loud grunt and scrunches into a ball as he clutches his ribs, clearly in a great deal of pain.
Would Damien have seriously hurt him? What am I saying, of course he would.
Anyone that would be stupid enough to even think about me in a way void of innocence better be tough enough to take the punishment.
At least, that's how Damien thinks.
My man reaches down and grabs him by his neck, dragging him to his feet, even though he’s losing consciousness.
That doesn’t matter though, Damien still holds him up like he weighs nothing.
He contains him in a firm grip, those tantalizing veins on his forearm popping out to show his strength.
The room goes silent, and no one moves. Not even a twitch.
The silence is deafening, but my heart is pounding so harshly that I’m almost positive it can be heard across the room.