40. Damien
Damien
The SUV hums softly around me. “Seek & Destroy” by Metallica vibrates through the speakers.
The screen flickers.
Static clears.
And there it is.
Glory.
The reception tent is crumpled like a paper dollhouse. The main hall is filled with bleeding guests. The arbor—my favorite touch—is half collapsed, petals stained red, the twisted iron frame punctured through someone’s chest like a grotesque corsage.
I sip my drink.
Vodka. Neat. Just like my explosions.
“Poetry,” I whisper, watching the flames dance in real time. “Fucking art.”
The driver says nothing. He knows better.
Just keeps the engine running while I watch my masterpiece unfold from three angles: aerial drone, street cam, hacked cell tower.
I see Lucien dragging bodies. I saw Evelyn screaming.
I saw Astra clutching her chest like this was a tragedy and not a sacrament.
Th ey don’t even realize yet—
They’re mine.
They’ve always been mine.
All of them are just playing rebellion.
But me?
I create.
I destroy.
I consecrate the world in flame and make it better.
The screen cuts to Lucien speaking with the police. He points at the rubble. Then at the horizon.
Then—
My name leaves his mouth.
I watch it on his lips.
I see the betrayal.
And I laugh.
Loud. Unhinged. Head thrown back like I’ve just heard the punchline to God’s own joke.
“Oh, Lucien,” I murmur. “You finally found your balls.”
I tap a button on the panel and switch to another feed—this one grainier, but still good. Surveillance from inside the rec room before the blast. My cameras. My angles. My domain.
I scrub backward.
Pause.
There.
Her.
Harmony, standing beneath the arbor. Her hands are trembling as she reaches for the floral panel. Her lips moving—mouthing please let this work like some stupid prayer.
She planted the bombs.
But then she warned them.
I watch it again.
Sh e slips out the side entrance. Finds Dante. Leans in, whispering. Pointing.
Treachery .
From my favorite creation.
The woman I carved into something useful. Something pure. Something obedient.
The betrayal burns more than the vodka.
I grip the edge of the monitor.
“I gave you everything,” I hiss. “Sanctuary. Purpose. A fucking crown.”
The driver twitches at the sound of glass shattering—my tumbler cracked in my hand, vodka dripping down my wrist like blood.
“She was supposed to be loyal,” I whisper. “She promised. ”
I rewind again.
Her face.
Her fucking face.
Tears. Regret. Hope.
Hope is what kills.
And I’m going to kill her for it.
“She thinks this is over,” I say softly, voice steadying into something dangerous. “She thinks she made it out.”
I lean closer to the screen, watching Harmony disappear into the crowd, purse still dangling from her shoulder like a noose waiting to tighten.
“But I saw you, sweetheart. Every frame. Every breath.”
The video flickers.
Goes black.
“Run all you want,” I murmur. “I’m still your god.”
I sit back in the seat, blood drying on my knuckles, the wreckage of my creation still burning on every news channel.
Let them call it a tragedy.
Le t them mourn.
Let them try to bury the ashes—
Because I’m not done yet.
Not by a long shot.
But for now?
I savor it.
The stillness.
The grief.
The silence after the storm.
Because soon…
The second wave begins.
They will all die.
* * *
The door slams behind me.
Not because I mean it to, but because control is an illusion right now. A muscle twitch. A breath held too long. A leash pulled too tight.
My house smells like cedar wood and bleach.
Too clean.
Too still.
Harmony’s perfume doesn’t linger here anymore.
Good.
It would only make me angrier.
Reese looks up from the dining table, his boots kicked up like this place belongs to him.
It doesn’t.
None of this belongs to anyone but me.
He sees the look in my eyes, and his smirk falters.
“She did it,” I say flatly. “She fucking turned.”
Re ese sits upright slowly. “The bombs—?”
“She planted them,” I hiss, pacing the floor. “But she didn’t let them go off. She told them. I watched it—every second. She went to Dante. Whispered like some whimpering whore, and gave away everything.”
His jaw tightens. “And the blast?”
“Killed twenty-three people. But not them. Not the ones it was meant for.”
I slam my fist into the edge of the marble counter.
Pain flares up in my arm.
I welcome it.
I earned it.
Reese exhales through his nose, slow and deliberate. “You want her dead?”
“No.”
He stiffens.
“I want her found. ”
My voice is a blade now. Quiet. Precise. Laced with intent.
“I want every hallway, every contact, every streetlight between here and the fucking coast checked. I want her photo sent to our men in New Mexico. I want her name whispered in every strip club, dive bar, and underground medical clinic she might crawl into.”
I lean closer, gripping the back of his chair.
“And if you find someone who’s seen her?”
He nods. “They won’t see anything else again.”
“Good.”
I shove away, pacing like a caged wolf. “She was mine. My greatest creation. The perfect weapon. And she betrayed me for what? Lucien ? Reese ?” I turn sharply to glare at him. “Was it you ?”
Reese doesn’t flinch. “No.”
“Because she kissed you,” I growl. “In the dressing room. I know. I know. ”
He swallows hard but doesn’t deny it.
I let the silence stretch until it threatens to break us both.
“Find her,” I repeat. “I don’t care how long it takes. Burn the city. Salt the fucking ground. But bring her back to me.”
“And when I do?”
I smile.
A slow, wicked thing made of ash and rot.
“When you do, I’ll show her what true obedience feels like.”