15. Damien
Damien
“You’re late,” I say again, my voice low and sharp as a blade dragged across skin.
Harmony flinches.
“Go to your room.”
She doesn’t move. I don’t say it again. She finally obeys, her footsteps vanishing down the hallway like a whisper that I didn’t grant permission for.
Reese sits on a couch in the living room. My attention shifts to Brooke.
She stands in the center of the room, posture stiff, lip trembling. She’s scared—but not nearly enough.
“Sit.”
She obeys without question.
I take my time crossing to her, letting the silence stretch, letting the weight of what she’s done settle into the floorboards.
“Why did you run?” I ask. Calm. Controlled.
Her throat bobs as she swallows.
“I just… I just wanted to explore.”
My jaw tighte ns. Wrong answer.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Her eyes widen.
“I’m not.”
“You disappeared. For over twenty-four hours. You broke the fucking rules. Now I’m giving you one chance to make it worth my time not to end you right now.”
She hesitates.
Then she leans forward. Her voice drops.
“I know something you don’t.”
“Oh, do you now?”
I raise a brow.
She reaches out, lets her fingertips trace a line up my arm—slow and deliberate.
And for just a moment—just one stupid fucking heartbeat—I feel something.
A buzz. A flicker. A memory of how it felt when Harmony used to touch me like that.
But this isn’t her. This isn’t my queen.
This is a whore pretending to act as such royalty.
“You’re not going to like it,” she whispers, “but you need to know.”
I stare at her, unmoving. She leans in close, like a snake about to strike.
“It’s Reese,” she breathes. “And Harmony.”
My blood goes cold. But my brain doesn’t flinch.
“They’re together,” she adds. “I saw them. In the pantry. It seemed like a secret meeting. You weren’t home.”
I watch her carefully. Too carefully.
“And earlier, in the tunnel… He was looking at her like he wanted her. I think they kissed.”
A muscle in my jaw twitches. But something isn’t sitting right. Brooke is too smooth. Too desperate. Her hands shake—but only after she speaks. She’s not telling me to help me. She’s telling me to save herself.
“You’re lying,” I murmur, more to myself than to her.
Her eyes widen. She shakes her head.
“I’m not. I swear. I saw them. You know I wouldn’t lie to you, Damien. Not about this.”
But I see it now. The sweat at her temples.
The way she breathes is too fast. She thinks I’ll spare her if she gives me blood.
She doesn’t realize—I don’t believe in mercy.
My Harmony wouldn’t touch another man. She wouldn’t look at one.
Not after everything we’ve been through.
Not after everything I’ve done to keep her mine. Would she?
No.
No.
“Get out,” I growl.
“But—”
“GET OUT!”
She stumbles to her feet and bolts for the hallway.
I stay seated. My pulse is pounding in my ears.
I look at Reese. He scrolls on his phone, unbothered.
I shouldn’t be thinking about it.
I shouldn’t be imagining Reese’s hand brushing hers.
I shouldn’t be wondering if her laugh sounds different when it’s for someone else.
She wouldn’t betray me.
She’s mine.
Isn’t she?
But still, I sit in the silence…
…and I wonder.
* * *
Monday, 5:42 p.m .
The Orchard
The gravel crunches beneath our boots as we walk side by side, dusk bleeding into the sky above us like a wound left untended.
Reese hasn’t said a word since Brooke’s confession. Good. I don’t like the sound of his voice lately.
The silence stretches, cold and dense, until I finally crack it with a casual tone—too casual.
“You think Brooke learned her lesson?”
He shrugs. “Hard to say.”
“You think she’s lying?”
Another shrug.
Motherfucker.
I narrow my eyes on the side of his face. He’s trying to be unreadable, and he’s good at it. That makes him dangerous. But it also makes him valuable.
We reach the south wing of the Orchard—six girls and one boy. Fresh. Prepped. Almost ready.
They’re lined up in their cots like dolls with dead eyes. Most won’t look at me. One smiles. She won’t last long.
“She’s eager,” I nod toward the smiling one.
Reese doesn’t respond.
I watch him. Carefully.
“How’s Harmony been?” I ask.
He doesn’t flinch. “Same as usual.”
“Quiet?”
“Focused.”
I smirk.
“She still cries at night.”
He glances at me, finally, and there’s a flicker there. Quick. Sharp. I file it away.
“You ever think about her?” I press, tone light.
He stiffens.
“Think about who?”
I give him a look.
He sighs through his nose. “You know I don’t think about what’s yours.”
Interesting phrasing.
I hum as I drift past the captives, studying their limbs, their lashes, their reactions. A few flinch. One doesn’t.
“Pick one,” I say, turning back to him. “For tonight.”
He blinks.
“No, thank you.”
I tilt my head. “You sure? She’s clean. Pretty. That one even looks like Harmony a little.”
His jaw ticks.
Got you.
“I said no.”
“Not even a taste?”
He turns his back on me, walking toward the exit.
Now I’m fucking certain.
I follow him, steps slow and deliberate.
“You’re a strange man, Reese,” I say as we walk. “Most of my men jump at the chance. But not you.”
“No offense,” he mutters, “but I don’t like broken things.”
I stop.
“So you like her because she’s whole?” I say quietly.
He freezes for just a second too long.
“I didn’t say I liked anyone.”
We step outside. The air is cold. The Orchard smells like smoke and bleach and history.
“You ever wonder what I’d do to someone who touched what’s mine?” I ask, voice like acid on your skin.
He meets my eyes.
“No. Because I wouldn’t be that stupid.”
And I can’t tell if that’s a warning or a promise.
Either way—I’m watching him now. Like a hawk before the dive. Because something’s not adding up. And if I’m right… Then I’ll be carving both their names into the fucking floorboards before the week’s out.
I think I’ll stay here tonight.
Maybe enjoy one of the girls for myself.
Just in case.
An eye for an eye.
* * *
I get back to the house in the morning, and Harmony is coiled up into a ball on the couch. Sleeping.
What a waste of fucking time. I couldn’t tell you the last time I slept for more than four hours. Let alone in the middle of the fucking day. It’s not even two in the afternoon.
Reese isn’t here. Smart man.
If I catch them even looking at each other, they are fucking dead. I don’t allow betrayal.
“Wake the fuck up,” I say loudly. Her eyes jolt open.
“I need to ask you a few questions.”
I sit on the couch next to her. Her eyes dart around the room as if she were watching a tennis match. She looks fucking guilty.
“O-okay,” she says.
“Did you fuck Reese?”
Her face blanches.
“No. Why would you even ask me that?” She sounds defensive.
“Did you ever k iss Reese?”
A blush paints her cheeks. Horrible fucking liar.
“No. Never.”
Interesting. She isn’t shaking. She is confident. Maybe she is blushing because the thought has crossed her mind. Or she is just fucking nervous.
“If you ever think about it. Dream about it. Or try it. I will fucking sell you. Do you understand?”
She nods.
“USE YOUR FUCKING WORDS!” I scream.
“Yes, I understand,” she says quickly.
Good.
There is only one way to catch a snake. That’s to dangle the food in front of its eyes. And that’s exactly what I am going to fucking do.