29. Damian

29

DAMIAN

T he darkness of the kitchen envelops me as I enter, my movements quiet and stealthy. The only light comes from the sliver of moonlight filtering through the window, casting shadows across the room. I pour myself a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid shimmering like liquid fire in the dimness. The familiar burn of the alcohol is comforting, settling the storm that’s been raging within me since the incident with Annalise.

It’s been days since I’ve been home. I’ve avoided her, choosing to immerse myself in work instead. But no matter how hard I try to bury it, the guilt festers inside me, gnawing at my conscience like a ravenous beast. The memory of the fear in her eyes haunts me, a constant reminder of my inability to control my own emotions.

“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, taking another swig of bourbon. I lean against the counter, allowing the weight of my thoughts to press down on my shoulders. My mind drifts back to our heated exchange, the cruel words that flew between us like daggers, each one striking its mark with deadly accuracy.

The clink of the bourbon bottle as it meets the glass echoes through the kitchen, dark and heavy, like the shadows that play across my face. The amber liquid swirls around, a reminder of the turmoil within me—a storm I can’t seem to escape.

“Damian…” Isabella’s voice pierces the silence, startling me out of my thoughts. She stands in the doorway, her blue eyes wide with concern. It’s been days since I’ve seen her, but the distance between us feels like miles.

“Isabella,” I say, my tone icy. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I just check on my brother?” she asks, her gaze flicking to the half-empty glass in my hand.

“Didn’t I tell you not to start with me?” I snap, feeling the anger rise within me like a tidal wave.

“Fine,” she says, raising her hands in surrender before crossing the room to stand beside me. “But, Damian, please…talk to me. We’re family. We’re all we have left.”

“Family?” I scoff, swirling the bourbon until it threatens to spill over the edge of the glass. “Is that what you call this? A family torn apart by lies and betrayal? By death and revenge?”

“Damian, don’t—” she begins, but I cut her off, unwilling to hear whatever words of comfort or understanding she might offer.

“Leave it, Isabella.” My voice is low and dangerous, and I see the fear flash in her eyes before she turns away.

“Damian…” Isabella’s voice is soft, hesitant. She looks at me with those worried eyes, and I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for how I’ve been acting lately. “I know you have a lot on your plate, but you’re working yourself into the ground. You need to take care of yourself too.”

“Taking care” isn’t a luxury I can afford, not when there are people out there determined to destroy everything I’ve built. The Popovs think they can just waltz in and dismantle the Volkov name? No, I won’t allow it.

“Isabella, I don’t have time for this,” I grit out, my hand tightening around the glass of bourbon. “My focus needs to be on our enemies, on making sure they pay for what they’ve done.”

“Revenge isn’t everything, Damian,” she pleads with me. “You can’t let it consume you.”

“Can’t I?” I chuckle darkly, feeling the fire of vengeance burning within me. It’s all that keeps me going—the thought of finally crushing the Popovs under my heel, watching their empire crumble just as ours did. “It’s all I have left, Isabella. Our family…we were betrayed, ripped apart by treachery. I won’t let them get away with it.”

“Damian, please,” she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t lose yourself in this fight. Mikayla wouldn’t want that for you.”

A bitter laugh escapes me as I down the remaining bourbon in one gulp. “Mikayla isn’t here anymore, Isabella.” I choke on the words, feeling the weight of her absence like a vise around my heart. “She’s gone, and all that’s left is this goddamn war.”

“Then let us help you,” she says desperately, reaching out to grasp my arm. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Help me?” I scoff, yanking my arm out of her grip. “What can any of you do?”

“More than you think,” she replies stubbornly, her eyes shining with determination. “But first, you have to let us in.”

“Letting people in only leads to more pain,” I say coldly, the memories of loss and betrayal flooding back. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Damian—” Isabella’s voice breaks through the darkness, raw with emotion. “You can’t just pretend that everything is okay. We all miss them—our parents, Mikayla?—”

“Isabella, don’t,” I snap, cutting her off. My hand tightens around the glass, my knuckles growing white. I don’t want to be reminded of the pain we’ve all experienced—the pain that I still carry with me every day.

“Look at yourself!” she cries, her voice cracking. “You’re drowning in your own grief, and it’s tearing you apart!”

“Enough!” My anger finally boils over, and I hurl the glass against the wall. It shatters into a thousand pieces, shards of glass raining down like the tears I refuse to shed. The sound echoes through the room, a violent reminder of my own turmoil and the intensity of my emotions.

“Is this what they would have wanted?” Isabella asks quietly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “For you to destroy yourself like this?”

“I don’t know what they would have wanted,” I admit, my voice low and ragged. “But I do know that I can’t let their deaths go unanswered. I will see the Popovs pay for what they’ve done, even if it kills me.”

“Damian, please,” Isabella whispers, her voice trembling. “Don’t let their deaths define you. Don’t let them take away the man you were meant to be.”

“Maybe it’s already too late for that,” I reply bitterly, clenching my fists at my sides as I stare at the shattered remains of the glass on the floor.

The silence that follows is thick with tension, and I can feel the distance between us growing even greater. But right now, there’s no room in my heart for anything but revenge. And until the Popovs have been dealt with, that’s all that matters. Even if it means leaving everything else—including my own family—behind.

Isabella narrows her eyes, her protective instincts flaring. “You think you can chase Annalise away or scare her off to protect your own heart? That’s not going to happen, Damian. She’s stronger than that, and so am I.”

“Annalise can do whatever she wants,” I snap, my dismissive tone barely concealing the bitter grief churning inside me. “But don’t bring Mikayla into this. Whatever her wishes were, they died with her.”

“Did you know,” she says softly, the words barely a whisper, “that Cassius and Nikhil have been spending time with Annalise? They’ve been helping her, protecting her.” Her gaze holds mine, unflinching, daring me to react.

“Is that so?” I reply coolly, an icy calm settling over me like a shroud. I refuse to let her see how much her words affect me, but deep inside, something dark and primal stirs—an urge to protect what is mine.

“Where is she?” The demand leaves my lips before I can even stop myself, desperation clawing at my insides. I need to find her, see her for myself, make certain she’s safe from the clutches of my brothers.

Isabella exhales, looking away as if torn between her loyalty to Annalise and her concern for me. “You can’t just barge into her life again. She has her own choices to make, and right now, she’s choosing to be with our brothers.”

“Tell me where she is, Isabella,” I demand, my voice low and dangerous.

The tension wraps around me like a snake, coiling tighter and tighter as Isabella remains unyielding. My patience is slipping, replaced by a desperate need to find Annalise and keep her away from my brothers.

“Don’t make me ask again,” I growl, my grip on the edge of the counter tightening until my knuckles turn white.

“Damian, I won’t betray her trust,” she replies firmly, her eyes locked onto mine, showcasing her unwavering loyalty to Annalise. “You have no right to control her life.”

“Like hell I don’t,” I snarl, lunging forward and grabbing her wrist in an iron grip. The room seems to shrink, the darkness closing in around us as my control falters. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Even if it means going through you.”

Isabella winces but doesn’t back down, her gaze never leaving mine. She’s always been stubborn, but now more than ever, her determination to protect Annalise is evident. “You’re hurting me, Damian,” she hisses, her free hand trying to pry my fingers loose. “And your anger isn’t helping anyone—especially not Annalise.”

My chest heaves with each breath, my mind racing with frustration and fear. For a brief moment, I’m torn between my need for control and my desire to prove that I’m not the monster they all think I am. But in the end, the need for control wins out, and my grip on Isabella’s wrist only tightens.

If Annalise is anything like her sister, I know where she is.

I release Isabella and start heading toward her.