~Damon~
She was on the floor and she was bleeding. Her small hands were pressed against her stomach like she could hold life itself inside her bare palms, but the blood was still coming and it painted her skin and it painted the floor and it painted my soul with fire. My kitten. My girl. My mate. My obsession.noveldrama
She was broken and crying and still she was looking at me like I was salvation, like I was the answer to prayers she had screamed until her throat gave out.
And seeing her like that did not just hurt me, it killed me. It killed me in ways even the dirt in my chest and the knives in my lungs could never kill me. I wanted to fall to my knees.
I wanted to gather her against me and swear she would never hurt again. I wanted to kiss every tear from her face and whisper a thousand times that she was safe.
“Yo…You should not be standing here, Damon. I put you down myself. I stabbed you. I watched the blood pour out of you. I buried you with my own hands. I made sure the dirt filled your lungs. I did it because you left me no choice.
“You always thought you were untouchable. You always thought you could stand over me. But 1 proved I could bring you down. I did what no one else dared. I buried the great Damon and I did it with my own hands.”
I tilted my head slowly, savoring every word, letting the smile curl my lips.
“When did you become a stammerer, Darren. You had no problem talking when you told my mate that you wanted my babies dead. You had no problem laughing while you kicked her and watched her bleed. You had no problem calling yourself a god when you dropped the dirt on my chest. But now your words shake. Now you repeat yourself. Now you look at me like you cannot believe what you see.”
“Do not mock me, Damon. Do not act like you are immortal. I am the immortal one!. I put you down once and I can do it again. You think crawling out of the dirt makes you untouchable. It does not.
“You are flesh and blood like me. And flesh can be cut. Blood can be spilled. You call me a stammerer but I am the one who put you under. You are standing here because I let you crawl. Do not forget that.”
My wolf roared inside me. He dares. He dares to spit at us. He dares to claim he let us crawl. Tear his tongue out. Break his bones. Show him who breathes and who chokes.
“You never scared me, Darren. Not when you slid that knife into my chest. Not when you buried me alive and thought worms would do your work You are nothing but a coward in a man’s skin who hides behind blades and dirt. You should have made sure I was finished. You should have burned me. You should have torn me apart. But you left me breathing, and that was the last mistake you will ever make.”
Yes, my wolf snarled in my skull. Tell him. Remind him. He thought he was a god with a shovel in his hand.
He thought he ended us. Now we show him what it means to rise. He made us stronger. He made us rage. We will not just cut him. We will tear his throat with our teeth. We will make his screams fill her ears until she knows she is safe forever.
Darren’s jaw clenched and I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, but he steadied himself and lifted the blade higher. The silver glinted under the light and it was the same blade. The same knife. My body remembered even as it healed. My wolf roared at the sight of it.
He spat his words at me. “You think crawling out of the ground makes you immortal. You think rising from the dirt makes you untouchable. Do not fool yourself , Damon. I ended you once. I will end you again. This time I will not just stab you. This time I will not leave you breathing. I will rip your heart out of your chest. I will carve it free and hold it in my hands while you choke on your last breath.” This text is hosted at find⸺novel.net
I let out a low laugh.
“You talk too much, Darren. You always did. Even when we were boys you filled the room with your words because you thought talking louder made you stronger. But words do not save you now. That knife will not save you now. Nothing will save you now.”
My wolf pressed harder, his growl rattling me from the inside. Let him lunge. Let him swing. We will catch it. We will break his arm. We will shove that blade through his ribs. We will feed his blood to the floor while Lyra watches. Do not wait. End him.
But I wanted to stretch it. I wanted him to remember every shovelful of dirt. I wanted him to drown in the memory of Lyra screaming my name while he laughed.
I took a slow step closer. My eyes never left his.
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