Chapter 85 Damian
Damian
Sleep didn’t come.
Morgan’s breathing was steady, soft against my chest, her body warm and curled into mine. I checked on Ruby and she was still sleeping.
But my eyes stayed open, fixed on the ceiling, my arm locked tight around the woman beside me.
Every shot, every scream from the warehouse replayed in my head.
The stairwell, the servers, the heat of gunfire sparking against steel—it all should’ve killed us.
I could still feel the burn of the bullet that tore across my shoulder, the hot sting at my ribs.
And I could still hear her voice in my head, the one thing that dragged me through it all.
Come back to me.
I looked down at her now, the curve of her face softened by sleep, damp hair clinging to her cheek from the shower.
She’d tended me without hesitation, patched wounds like they were hers to carry, and then loved me like there was no tomorrow.
That was the part that undid me most—the way she’d given me something to fight for when the world only ever asked me to kill.
I brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, careful not to wake her. My fingers lingered at her temple, my thumb tracing the outline of her cheek. She stirred but didn’t wake, her lips parting on a sigh that sounded a lot like my name.
I swallowed hard.
Oliver, Gage, Cyclone—they could handle the data, the coordination, the chase.
But me? My mission was right here. Keeping her safe.
Keeping Ruby safe. No matter what Luthor threw our way, no matter how deep his network ran, I’d cut through every last one of his men if it meant they’d never touch her.
The promise I’d made at the start—the one I’d whispered against her lips before we ever kissed in front of the others—anchored itself deeper than ever.
I’ll always come back to you.
It wasn’t just a vow anymore. It was the only thing that kept me breathing.
Her hand twitched in her sleep, fingers curling against my chest like she knew I was drifting into dark places. I covered her hand with mine, pressing it there, grounding myself in her touch.
Outside, the wind shifted, carrying a sound that had me tense for a heartbeat. Just a branch cracking, nothing more. Still, I kept my senses sharp, ears tuned to every creak of the old walls, every groan of the floorboards. The enemy was out there, circling. But so was I.
I kissed the crown of her head, the taste of her shampoo still clinging faintly in my mouth, and let the words slip out in the dark where only she could hear them.
“You’re my home, Morgan. My only home.”
And with her heartbeat steady against mine, I stayed awake, watching the door, until dawn bled through the blinds.