HIS CHAOS, HER RUIN

Damien

I slammed the car door shut, the engine roaring to life as I pulled out of the parking lot, one hand gripping the steering wheel tight enough to leave marks. I’d been looking forward to the quiet, the time to just… be with her. But no, fucking Claire had to call me now.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I could already feel the irritation building in my chest. I knew it was her, but I didn’t care. I needed the fucking silence. I wasn’t in the mood for any more of her shit today. I grabbed the phone and answered, slamming it against my ear.

“ What? ” I growled, my voice laced with pure venom .

“Damien,” Claire’s voice came through, too calm, too steady. “We’ve got a situation. I need you to handle it.”

“ Right now? ” I hissed, already pissed off. I could feel my blood simmering beneath the surface, but there was no backing down now. “You couldn’t have waited? I’m in the middle of something.”

“Something?” She chuckled, but I could hear the tension in her voice. “I’m sure it’s important , but this job’s gotta come first. You know how it works.”

I clenched my jaw, fingers digging into the wheel until my knuckles turned white. She knew damn well how I worked, how I didn’t like being interrupted when I had my hands on something… precious .

“Yeah, I get it. It’s always my fucking problem to fix, huh?” I shot back, slamming my foot down on the gas. “What the hell do you want me to do? I’m busy.”

“Just… take care of it. I’ll explain more when it’s done. ”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do,” I snarled, speeding through the streets. “I’ll take care of it. But you’re gonna pay for this little interruption. You know that, right?”

Claire didn’t respond, and I could almost picture the cool, collected look on her face. She was used to me being angry—hell, she expected it. But I wasn’t going to let her get away with pulling me away from what I was about to do.

The idea of her … her waiting for me, helpless, was consuming me.

I hung up, throwing the phone onto the passenger seat. My fingers itched, a sick excitement crawling up my spine. I still had work to do.

The thought of Amelia—her wide, terrified eyes, her soft, trembling breath—was more than enough to get my blood pumping into my cock again. I had her locked down, where she couldn’t escape. She wouldn’t be able to move until I was back. I made sure of that.

I could feel the pulse of anticipation in my veins .

She’d be waiting. She always was.

And when I returned, she’d remember who controlled her world.

But first, I had a fucking job to finish. I had to deal with whatever the hell Claire’s mess was. Then I’d return.

I parked the car in the alley, the engine still humming as I killed the ignition. The penthouse loomed ahead, all glass and steel, a fucking trophy for some rich bastard who had nothing better to do than piss off people with more power than he could ever imagine. I could already feel the tension tightening in my muscles, the anticipation of what I was about to do. This wasn’t some clean job—it never was, but today? Today was going to be fucking personal . Why, you ask? Because I had to leave my Millie alone and rush here with a fucking hard dick to kill the bastard.

I slipped out of the car, my boots hitting the pavement with quiet thuds. The city was buzzing around me, the noise a dull hum in the background, but in my head, it was nothing but silence. The kind of silence that came right before you turned someone’s world into fucking chaos .

I moved quickly, staying low and blending into the shadows, my hand resting lightly on the gun at my hip. I didn’t need it for this. Not yet. But I liked having it on me. It was a reminder of who I was—who I always was.

The target, a smug lawyer with more money than sense, was already fucked. He just didn’t know it yet. His mistake was getting on the wrong side of some seriously rich assholes. I could only assume it had something to do with a shady deal gone wrong. The kind of shit where people get erased without a trace.

The elevator was a breeze, and I took it up to the penthouse floor without a sound. I didn’t need to waste time stalking the guy. He was a goddamn lawyer. Arrogant, self-important, and too fucking stupid to realize that he had a target on his back.

I reached the door to his penthouse, and I could hear the sound of water running in the bathroom. Perfect . He was probably too busy taking a goddamn shower to think about who was coming for him .

I slipped through the door, not making a sound. The penthouse was sleek, all polished marble and glass, everything shiny and expensive. I didn’t give a shit about the décor, though. I didn’t care about the picture-perfect life this prick had built. All I cared about was finishing the fucking job .

I stalked down the hallway, my every step deliberate, quiet, until I reached the bathroom door.

I stood there, waiting, listening to him humming softly to himself in the shower, oblivious to his impending fate.

I grabbed the towel from the hook on the bathroom door and stepped inside, the smell of soap and shampoo hitting me first. He was standing under the showerhead, his back to me, completely unaware.

Fucker .

I moved fast—too fast. One moment, I was standing behind him, the next I was yanking his head back by his hair, pressing a cold blade to his throat. His body tensed, but it was too late. The blade was already there, and I could feel the pulse in his neck thrumming against the steel .

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice trembling. “What do you want?”

I grinned, the darkness in me stretching wide as I pressed the blade harder, just enough to draw blood.

“Your fucking death ,” I muttered, low and dark. “You made a mistake, and now you’re gonna pay for it.”

I shoved the towel over his head, letting the fabric soak up the blood that dripped from his neck. He was still trying to process what the hell was happening, but there was no time for his confusion. I pulled out my gun and pointed it straight at his face.

“Follow me,” I growled, my patience wearing thin. “Make a sound, and I’ll blow your brains out right here.”

His eyes flicked between the gun and my face, but he didn’t move fast enough for my liking. I jabbed him with the barrel, guiding him out of the bathroom and down the hallway.

I threw open the door to the closest room—his office—and pushed him inside.

“ Sit ,” I barked, pointing to the chair across from the desk. He hesitated, but I didn’t give him a second to think. A slap of my hand on the back of his head had him sinking into the seat.

I took a deep breath, the tension in the room thick as hell. I let it roll over me, savoring the silence for just a second before I leaned forward, my eyes locking onto his.

“Because of you , I had to leave something real fucking important behind,” I said, my voice low and dark, dripping with anger. “Something I’ve been waiting for, something I’ve been savoring . And now I’m here, wasting my fucking time with you, because you couldn’t keep your goddamn mouth shut.”

I forced a deep breath through my nose, trying to calm down. I needed to focus. Needed to finish this, and yet…

I stood up abruptly, shaking off the tension, and reached for the pack of cigarettes sitting on the desk. I grabbed one, lit it, and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke curl into the air like it could somehow burn the anger out of me. But it didn’t.

I stared at the guy, my eyes narrowing, but my mind… it wasn’t there. It was somewhere else .

Amelia .

I took a long, slow drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke curl into the air as I paced around the room. The anger was still there, simmering under the surface, but it was something else that was clawing at me. Something darker , gnawing away at my insides, and it had nothing to do with the fucker sitting in front of me.

I exhaled the smoke and chuckled to myself. “You ever have one of those fucking moments where you just can’t breathe ? Like something’s eating you alive from the inside out, and you can’t do shit about it?” I ran my fingers through my hair, my mind racing. “Yeah, that’s how I feel. Every goddamn day now. And it’s all because of her .” I spat the words out like they burned my tongue.

I stopped pacing and turned back to him, locking eyes. The room felt suffocating, like it was closing in on me. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but she’s in my head. She’s all I fucking think about. All the time! And the worst part? I want her there. It drives me insane, makes me lose my goddamn mind. You know what it’s like to lose control? ”

I paced again, the cigarette burning in my hand, the ash falling like I didn’t even notice. “I used to have everything under fucking control. Everything . My life, my work, the shit I did. But now? She’s slipping through my fingers like sand, and I can’t fucking hold on. It’s like… like I want to break her. But then I fucking need her. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing anymore. She makes me feel like I’m losing it.”

I laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh. It was a snarl. “And I fucking hate it.” I slammed the cigarette into the ashtray, my pulse racing. “I should just let her go, right? Let her fade into the background like everyone else. But I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about how she looks at me. How her skin feels against mine. How she trembles when I touch her. It’s… suffocating .”

I wiped my hand down my face, frustrated, and looked back at the man, who was still trembling in his chair. “You ever feel that way? Like someone is just… too much ? And you don’t know whether you want to fuck them or kill them? Because that’s what she does to me. And it’s fucking killing me.”

I threw the chair across the room, my mind a mess of rage and desire. The control I used to have was slipping away, piece by piece. And I couldn’t stop it .

The man’s voice trembled, shaking like a leaf in a storm. “Look… I don’t know who you think I am, but I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped, my patience running out faster than I could manage. “I’m not here for your shitty advice.”

But he kept talking, eyes wide with terror. “I… I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but if you… If you really care about her, you need to back off, man. This… this isn’t how it works—”

I cut him off with a feral laugh, the dark chuckle slipping out like a jagged knife. “ Care about her?” I repeated the words, letting them hang in the air, tasting them like poison. “Yeah, maybe I fucking care. You think I don’t see it? She’s all I think about. Every second of every day, she’s in my fucking head! ”

I took a deep breath, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. The memory of her was like a fucking fire, too hot to touch but too impossible to escape. “You have no idea what it was like when she held my hand. When she touched me like that, it sent a goddamn shock straight through my fucking soul . She doesn’t know what the hell she did to me. ”

My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, but the manic edge was still there, buzzing through me. “When her fingers brushed against mine, it was like a switch flipped. Like something inside me snapped . For a second, I felt like I was holding her, protecting her, keeping her safe from everything… everyone. And then the next second? All I wanted to do was destroy her. Tear her apart. Break her. Make her feel every fucking inch of me in ways she’ll never forget.”

I stepped closer, my breath heavy with rage, my eyes narrowing. “She’s fragile. She doesn’t even realize it, but she’s so fucking fragile , and it makes me want to put her back together. But it also makes me want to rip her to pieces. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching her. Not a single fucking soul.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, my chest tightening. “I want to protect her. But goddamn it , I want to ruin her just as much. I want her to need me. I want her to break and beg for me. It’s all I think about. Every time she looks at me, it’s like I lose a little more of myself. ”

I let out a long, shuddering breath, taking a step back. “I can’t stop it, though. I can’t stop what I’m gonna do to her. It’s too fucking late . She’s already under my skin.”

The words lingered between us, thick with a twisted sort of promise. I could see the fear flickering in his eyes, but my own—my own was something darker, something that only seemed to grow stronger with every passing second. The tension in the room crackled like an electrical storm, and as I stared at him, I couldn’t help but feel the pull of it all.

It was only a matter of time.

?????????

I stepped out of the car, the cool night air biting at my skin. My eyes narrowed as I lit up a cigarette, letting the smoke curl into the darkness, twisting with my thoughts. I pulled out my phone, staring at the screen.

There she was. Amelia .

She was in the solitary confinement room, just like I left her—hands bound in a straightjacket, her hospital gown barely clinging to her body. She looked fucking perfect, a mix of confusion and panic crossing her face as she started waking up.

I watched her struggle, her body jerking as she tried to move, but the restraints held her tight. My lips curled into a smirk. Good girl, try all you want. You’re not going anywhere .

I could almost feel the desperation radiating off her. It was like she knew what was coming, knew the madness I’d unleashed on her, but still—still, she fought.

I zoomed in on the camera feed, watching her thrash on the floor, the desperation in her eyes fueling something inside me.

God, I missed this.

She was beautiful when she was like this. Frantic. Helpless. And it fucking thrilled me.

My grip tightened on the cigarette. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not until I decided .

I walked inside, the sound of my boots echoing in the cold, empty hall. The air in the asylum was thick, thick with something twisted, something I could taste. I walked down the hallway, not in any rush.

When I reached the solitary confinement room, I opened the door slowly, savoring the moment. She froze, her breath catching when she saw me. That’s it, Millie . I’m here. You know what the fuck that means.

She looked so goddamn beautiful, her chest heaving as she fought against the straightjacket, eyes wide with panic. It made the dark thrill inside me grow.

I stepped closer, crouching in front of her, my fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. The contact was gentle, almost tender , but there was nothing soft about what I was doing. I saw the way she stiffened, her eyes flashing with a mix of fear and defiance.

“ Shh ,” I murmured, my fingers still lingering on her cheek, my voice a low growl. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be in control, Millie. Not you. Don’t forget that. ”

Her lips trembled, her body tensing as she spoke, desperation thick in her voice. “Let me go, Damien.”

The burn of desire surged inside me, uncontrollable, hungry. “You don’t get it, do you?” I muttered, my breath hot against her ear. “I fucking want you. I’ve wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. You’re everything I’ve been craving, Amelia.”

I reached down, my fingers grazing the collar of her gown, just enough to make her skin prickle. “You’re mine now,” I whispered. “And the sooner you accept that, the better for you.”

I could feel her resistance, but I knew better. She wouldn’t be able to hold out for long.

I suddenly spun her around, slamming her face into the floor.

Her body trembled beneath me, and I could feel her desperation and need . I loved it. Every second of it.

I unbuckled my pants, pulling out my impossibly hard cock, my hands trembled, not from excitement, but from the fucking chaos inside me. I was so fucking confused, so goddamn angry . Every inch of me was screaming, but I didn’t know what the hell I was screaming for. Was it her ? Was it the fucking mess I’d made of everything?

I slid my hands from her thighs all the way to her back, exposing her perfect ass. I gave it a few kisses, cursing beneath my breath at how soft her skin was. “I’m so fucking lost ,” I muttered, my voice low and vicious. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore, doctor. I want to rip you apart and protect you all at once. This fucking thing inside me—this… need , I can’t shake it. I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to me, but I can’t get rid of it.”

I gave my cock a few light strokes, smearing my pre-cum all over it, breathing hard as I positioned myself between her legs, trying to swallow down the fucking monster that was clawing at my chest.

“I need a way to forget about it all,” I snarled, my voice cracking with a mix of rage and something darker . “Forget about you . Forget about this goddamn mess I’ve made… or maybe it’ll kill me.”

And without a warning, I pushed myself inside her ass.

She was so tight and sweet. Fuck . I wanted to shatter her.

“You make me lose control, Millie,” I hissed, voice thick with desire. “You make me forget everything I’ve ever known. I’m used to this— my control . But you? You twist everything. You make me want to break and protect you at the same time.”

I slammed my hips against her, her skin reddening under the pressure. The sound of it combined with her loud noises was so satisfying , but not enough to drown out the fucking storm in my head.

“I don’t know what to do with you anymore,” I rolled my hips and she moaned with pleasure beneath me, so I kept doing it again, and again . “I should just finish this and be done with it.” I twisted her hair around my palm and pulled at it, growling at how helpless she was. “But instead… instead, I can’t even think straight. I fucking need you, but I hate that I do.”

She was different. She made it hard to breathe.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” I muttered breathlessly, as I sank my dick into her hole over and over again, feeling my release getting closer. “I tried to forget you, tried to bury you under all this other shit. But you just— fuck . You make me lose my mind. I can’t let you go. Can’t get rid of you. And it pisses me off. ”

I leaned closer, burying my cock even deeper inside her ass, watching her, hearing her loud moans. She was beautiful, even like this— especially like this.

“I don’t know if I want to break you or make you better,” I admitted, my thrusts getting rougher, faster. “Maybe both. Maybe I just want to burn every fucking inch of you so you know you’re mine.”

God —the rawness of it made something in me itch, a hunger that I couldn’t quite scratch. I needed— Fuck .

I growled as an angry wave of pleasure hit my body, igniting every dormant nerve in it. I pulled my dick out of her hole, pushing it inside my pants, seeing as my seed started leaking out of her. It was an intoxicating sight.

The room was dead silent, except for our ragged breathing. I stared at her bound form, every muscle in her body tense. My fingers started working the straps loose, the restraints came off, one by one, and the second she was free, she rolled away, collapsing onto the cold floor. Her breaths were shaky, her chest rising and falling, and when I caught a glimpse of her face, there it was—wet streaks on her cheeks .

Tears.

Fuck.

I stayed there for a moment, on my knees, staring, trying to make sense of the ache crawling up my throat. It was wrong. This was wrong. I was wrong . But even that thought pissed me off. I wasn’t supposed to feel this—this suffocating mess of guilt mixed with rage.

I lay down beside her, close enough that our faces were just inches apart, our breaths mingling in the cold, stale air of the room. Her honey-colored eyes were glassy, unfocused, red at the edges. She looked at me like she didn’t know if she should hate me or beg me to stop.

“You look broken, doctor,” I muttered, my voice low, almost hoarse. “And I should be fucking happy about that. Isn’t that the point? To tear you apart until there’s nothing left? That’s what I wanted , right?”

Her lips trembled, but she didn’t speak. Didn’t fucking have to. Her silence screamed louder than any words .

I hated her for making me feel this way—hated her for the fucking tears, the fragility, the way she lay there like she’d given up, and most of all, I hated myself for wanting to put her back together.

I clenched my fists against the urge to touch her face, to wipe those tears away. Instead, I just stayed there, my eyes locked on hers, the twisted mess inside me building and building.

“Why the fuck do you have to be like this?” I growled, my voice cracking. “Why the fuck do I care ? Why the fuck can’t I just leave you alone?”

Her breath hitched, and I wanted to scream , to tear the whole fucking room apart, to do something to stop this feeling—this fucking weakness eating me alive.

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping into something darker, meaner, trying to reclaim whatever shred of control I had left.

“I could destroy you, Amelia,” I whispered. “I could ruin you, leave you here in pieces, and walk away without a second thought. ”

But I didn’t move. I couldn’t . And the part of me that hated seeing her like this? That part was winning.

I turned onto my back, the cold floor pressing against me, my chest heaving like I’d just run a fucking marathon. The ceiling stared back at me, cracked and peeling, as if it could split open and swallow me whole. I wished it would.

I could feel her eyes on me. I didn’t look, didn’t need to. I could feel the weight of her stare like a chain around my neck, pulling me under. The silence between us was fucking deafening .

And then it started. Words spilling out of me before I could stop them, before I even knew what the hell I was saying.

“You think I was always like this ?” I muttered, my voice rough, raw. “You think I woke up one day and decided to be this fucked-up excuse for a person?”

I laughed—bitter, sharp, and hollow. It echoed in the room like a goddamn death rattle .

“My old man… he made sure of it. That bastard . He didn’t just beat the shit out of me when I was a kid. No. That would’ve been too fucking easy.”

My jaw clenched, the memories clawing their way out, refusing to stay buried.

“He used to take me to these places. Dirty, dark fucking places, with people screaming , begging for their lives. And he’d look at me, like it was a goddamn father-son bonding moment, and he’d say, ‘Come on, Damien. Be a man. Help your old man out.’ ”

I closed my eyes, but it didn’t help. The images were burned there, permanent, like scars on the inside of my skull.

“He made me hold them down, Millie. I was just a fucking kid . I didn’t even know what I was doing half the time. But he’d laugh—this fucking sick , twisted laugh—when I did it right. When I made them scream .”

My throat tightened, my voice cracking .

“He made me… Fuck . He made me hurt them. Made me use knives, bats, whatever the fuck he handed me. Told me it was how you survive in this world. Told me to shut the fuck up and stop crying like a little bitch.”

I dragged a hand over my face, trying to scrape off the shame, the rage, the fucking memories .

“And you know what’s worse?” I spat, my voice dropping into something cold, venomous. “I got good at it. Real fucking good. So good, he started calling me his little partner. Like I was his goddamn apprentice.”

The room was dead silent, except for the sound of my breathing—heavy, uneven, like I was choking on the words.

“I didn’t stand a fucking chance,” I whispered, my voice barely audible now. “He turned me into this. This monster . And the worst part? I don’t even know if I hate him for it… or if I hate myself more for not stopping him.”

I let out a bitter laugh, one that tasted like ash in my throat .

“But you know what broke me?” I muttered, still staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to this fucked-up mess. “The day I finally figured out what I was dealing with. The day I saw who he really was.”

My chest rose and fell like a fucking sledgehammer, the memories slamming into me full force.

“I was twelve. Twelve fucking years old, Millie,” I said, my voice trembling with something I couldn’t quite name—rage, grief, maybe both. “And he came home, reeking of booze and blood. That wasn’t unusual, you know? That was just another Tuesday. But my mom—she finally had enough. She finally fought back.”

The words were spilling out now, unstoppable, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“She screamed at him, called him every name in the book. Told him he was a monster, told him she’d take me and leave. And you know what he did?” My laugh turned sharp, bitter. “He smiled. That sick, twisted fucking smile. Like it was all some goddamn joke. ”

I paused, swallowing hard, the memory choking me.

“And then he took her, right there in the kitchen, and he… he slit her throat. ” My voice cracked, but I kept going, the floodgate wide open now. “Like it was nothing . Like she was nothing. Just one quick swipe, and she was gone . Blood everywhere. All over me. All over the walls. And he looked at me, Millie—he fucking looked at me—and said, ‘That’s how you deal with problems, son. That’s how you survive.’ ”

My hands were shaking now, the rage and the pain boiling over, spilling out of me in jagged, broken pieces.

“I don’t even remember thinking,” I said, my voice low and rough. “I just remember grabbing the knife off the counter. The same knife he’d used. The same fucking knife. And I stabbed him. Right in the gut.”

I could feel my chest heaving, the weight of the memory crushing me, drowning me.

“He didn’t even fight back,” I muttered. “Just looked at me with this… this look , like he was proud. Like I’d finally become what he wanted. And that… that was the worst fucking part. ”

I closed my eyes, the image of his face burned into my mind like a brand.

“I ran,” I whispered. “Ran out of that house, covered in their blood, and I didn’t look back. Not once. Didn’t even know where the fuck I was going. I just… I couldn’t stay there.”

The silence settled over us again, heavy and suffocating. My hands clenched into fists, the nails biting into my palms, grounding me in the present.

“That’s the day I learned,” I said, my voice hard, cold. “There’s no escape from this shit. No redemption. You just survive . You become what they made you, or you fucking die.”

I felt her gaze burn into me, but I couldn’t look at her. Not after that. Not after laying it all out there, raw and ugly and fucking unfixable .

Her voice was so soft, barely a whisper, yet it cut through the thick air between us like a blade.

“ Damien .”

I froze. My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. Then I felt her move closer, her hand reaching out—toward me. I jerked back before her fingers could graze my face.

“Don’t,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended, venom dripping from the word. My body was tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap, and I forced myself to sit up, turning my back to her. “Just don’t .”

I could feel her eyes on me, piercing through my defenses like she was trying to see the parts of me I’d buried so goddamn deep. I hated it. Hated her for making me feel so raw, so exposed .

“Leave it,” I growled, my voice low and dangerous. “Just fucking leave it, Amelia.”

But she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. I heard the rustle of fabric as she moved, sitting up and shifting until she was in front of me again, straddling me, her eyes locking onto mine. Her stubbornness made me want to shake her, to yell, to push her away. Instead, I stared her down, letting the darkness rise to the surface .

“You think you’re strong enough for this?” I spat, leaning forward, my voice a cruel whisper. “You think you can handle the shit I’ve seen , the shit I’ve done ? You think you can fix me?” I let out a bitter laugh. “I’ll fucking destroy you first, Millie. That’s all I know how to do. Tear things apart. Break them. Ruin them.”

But she didn’t flinch. Not even a little. Her steady gaze only made me angrier, made the storm inside me churn harder.

“You shouldn’t have gone through that,” she said softly, her voice cracking just enough to betray the emotion behind her words.

Something in me shattered. I felt it , like a wall crumbling, bricks hitting the ground one by one.

Her hand hovered near mine, not touching but close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

“I know it wasn’t your fault,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “And I know that you didn’t deserve it. ”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking my head. “ Deserve it? You think that shit matters ? Life doesn’t give a fuck what we deserve, Amelia. It just chews you up and spits you out. And if you’re lucky, you survive. That’s it.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, I wanted to grab her, shake her, yell at her to stop looking at me like that. Like I was still worth something . Like I wasn’t already damned .

“You survived,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, but the weight of it hit me like a goddamn freight train.

Her hand rose slowly, hesitantly, like she knew she was crossing a line neither of us could uncross. And when her fingers finally touched my cheek, I flinched. But I didn’t pull away.

Instead, I leaned into it. Fuck . The warmth of her palm, the gentleness of her touch—it was something I didn’t deserve. Something I never thought I’d feel again. My eyes closed against my will, shutting out everything but the sensation of her hand against my skin. For a second, just a second , I forgot who I was. What I’d done .

“What are you doing to me?” The words came out low, almost a growl, as I opened my eyes and looked straight into hers. I felt raw, stripped bare, like she’d reached in and ripped out the parts of me I tried so fucking hard to bury.

She didn’t say anything, just kept her hand there, steady, like she thought she could keep me from falling apart.

“You make me feel shit I shouldn’t fucking feel,” I spat, the anger in my voice directed more at myself than her. “Do you get that? You’re messing with something you can’t fucking fix , doctor. You’re in over your goddamn head.”

Her thumb brushed against my cheek, soft as hell, and it sent a jolt through me, like lightning under my skin.

“I don’t deserve this,” I muttered, my voice breaking. “I don’t deserve you .”

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching mine, like she was trying to find some sliver of humanity buried under the mess of who I was .

“You’re making me weak ,” I hissed, my breath ragged. “I can’t fucking think straight when you’re around. Can’t even be who I’m supposed to be.”

“You’re human,” she whispered, her voice steady but soft.

“No,” I snapped, my teeth grinding together. “I’m not . I’m a fucking monster. I hurt . I destroy . That’s what I am. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

But even as the words left my mouth, her hand stayed on my cheek, unwavering, like she refused to let me push her away.

“Why are you doing this to me?” My voice cracked, low and rough, the anger bleeding into something else—something I didn’t have a name for. “Why are you still here?”

“Why the fuck are you still here , Amelia?” I asked again, my voice breaking like glass against a wall. My eyes burned into hers, daring her to answer, to say something that would make sense of the madness swirling inside me .

She shifted, her hand starting to pull away, but I caught her wrist before she could. No . She wasn’t leaving. Not now . Not when I needed… fuck , I didn’t even know what I needed.

Her breath hitched, and for a second, her eyes darted away. “Damien…” she started, her voice trembling, unsure. She looked like she wanted to run , like she was on the edge of bolting, but I tightened my grip, pulling her closer, forcing her to look at me.

“Say it,” I growled. My chest heaved, the frustration, the fucking need tearing through me like fire. “Tell me why . Tell me why the fuck you’re still here when you should’ve run miles by now. Why, Amelia?”

Her lips parted, her breath shaky as hell, and for a second, she looked so confused, so vulnerable , I almost let her go. But then she swallowed, her eyes locking onto mine, and what she said next hit me like a goddamn freight train.

“Because you make me feel alive ,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, like it was meant for me and no one else .

I froze. Every muscle in my body locked up as her words sank in, each one heavier than the last.

“You terrify me,” she continued, her eyes glistening. “You make me want to run , to hide , to scream … but you also make me feel like I’m breathing for the first time in years.”

My chest fucking ached , a sharp, sudden pang that I wasn’t prepared for. I stared at her, the chaos in my head suddenly too much, too loud.

“Do you know how insane that sounds?” I said, my voice low and rough, but there wasn’t any bite behind it. I couldn’t muster it. Not when my heart was hammering like this, not when her words were crawling under my skin.

“I know,” she said, her lips trembling. “But it’s the truth.”

I let go of her wrist, but I didn’t move back. My hand found her face instead, my thumb brushing against her cheek, her skin warm beneath my touch. “You’re fucking insane ,” I muttered, shaking my head, but my voice cracked halfway through .

“And you’re not?” she shot back softly, a faint, shaky smile on her lips.

I felt my throat tighten, my chest burning like I’d been sucker-punched. She was right. I wasn’t sane. I wasn’t normal. And the worst fucking part? She wasn’t wrong about me making her feel alive.

Because she was doing the same thing to me.