Chapter 38 Damian
Damian
The ride out to the cottage was hushed, the kind of silence that presses on your chest. Ruby leaned against Morgan, her head tucked under her sister’s arm, while Morgan stared out the window like she was memorizing every shadow on the road.
When we finally pulled into the gravel drive, the sight of the little cottage eased something inside me. White shutters, a porch light glowing warm—it looked like the kind of place where nightmares weren’t supposed to reach. I wished like hell that were true.
I helped Ruby out first. She was too tired to argue, her hand sliding into mine as I steadied her. Morgan followed, keys already in her hand, but her eyes lifted to mine before she turned the lock.
Inside, the place smelled faintly of lavender and old books. Ruby trudged down the short hall without a word, disappearing into her room. Morgan watched her go, then set her purse on the counter with trembling fingers.
“I don’t like leaving you here,” I said quietly. “But when Luthor’s locked up—when this is over—I’ll be back. That’s a promise, Morgan.”
She blinked up at me, eyes glassy in the lamplight. For a second I thought she’d push back, tell me she didn’t need promises from men like me. But instead, she let out a shaky breath and whispered, “I’ll hold you to that.”
The weight of it hit me square in the chest. This wasn’t just about missions or takedowns anymore. It was about her. About Ruby. About keeping a promise that mattered more than any order I’d ever taken.
Ruby’s soft voice carried from down the hall. “Don’t forget us.”
I met Morgan’s gaze, steady and sure. “Never.”
And I meant it with everything in me.
I forced myself to turn and leave before the weight of that goodbye rooted me there for good.
Back in the truck, the cab felt heavier than before. Cyclone started the engine, but didn’t shift into gear right away. River glanced at me from the backseat, his usual sarcasm gone. Even Roger was quiet.
“You okay?” Cyclone finally asked.
I stared out the window at the cottage, the warm light glowing through the curtains. “No. But I will be—once Luthor’s in a cell.”
No one argued. They knew better. And as the truck rumbled back down the drive, I swore to myself that nothing—no mission, no enemy, no shadow from my past—was going to keep me from keeping that promise.