Chapter 14
Light
“Hello.” My reflection greets me as I test out my voice.
After four days, it is much better, with the hoarseness almost gone. I wish I could say the same for the marks around my neck, which have faded to light purple and yellow. The two colors are quite lovely on their own, but together, they are just a sick reminder.
At least they were healing. I would rather have a thousand bruises on my skin that could go away than the ones inside, which took so much longer.
The doctor's words at the hospital ring true as I hold up the card she gave me with the details of the woman holding the victim's rape group. I was toying with the idea of joining. But I couldn’t make my mind up.
Perhaps Damon would go with me. I doubted he would, but there was no harm in asking. If he was around. I knew he was here while I was asleep because the pillow was indented and the bedsheets were crumpled, but the bed was always cold when my eyes opened.
Then, there were the blood droplets. Damon’s blood .
When I saw him briefly a day ago, the cut on his cheek had healed and was just a tiny scab, not going to leave another scar. But a fresh cut was just above his eye, slashing through his eyebrow. His knuckles were bruised, with the middle knuckle on his left hand split.
I was worried about him. I realized the other day that I had implied that I had blamed him. I denied it, but without conviction because, at that moment, I believed it.
As the days wore on, I understood my anger was misplaced. Damon didn’t force some psycho to rape me. And if he had been there, he would never have let it happen.
I know this. Because I know Damon would never intentionally hurt me. He just wouldn’t. I was as sure of that fact as I was that I breathed oxygen, even though I couldn’t see it.
The niggling feeling that his bloodied eyebrow and busted knuckles were somehow linked to me made my stomach turn. He was getting hurt. And if I were the cause, I wouldn’t forgive myself.
So here I was. For the first time in days, I was wearing adult clothes instead of the comfy pajamas I was self-comforting in—although it was just an old pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt.
Nonetheless, I put the card down on the counter, pulled my hair into a tight ponytail, and splashed water on my face, hoping I looked presentable.
Damon and I need to talk. There was anxiety forming with every minute that passed. It felt like I might explode if I didn’t see and talk to him right now. And I might lose him.
I can’t lose him. I can’t. I don’t want to. He was the first person to make me feel alive after James and the first person to really see me. Perhaps in my whole life. I wasn’t anyone else besides Sienna when I was with him.
I was entirely me. Free. This new me that I didn’t want dying a slow death because of some asshole. Damon tried to explain this to me the other night when he thought I was sleeping. But, while I heard the words, I wasn’t really listening. Not in a way that brings understanding.
“He has taken so much from you, Sienna. Don’t let him. Don’t let anyone. The control is yours to take back. You are strong.”
The words couldn’t take root at the time because the sorrow in my heart left no room for them, but as the days wore on, the level of grief sloshing around in my chest cavity eased up.
That was all it took—that little room to breathe.
I took one large breath in that silent space.
And then another. Coming up for air. That’s when his words seeded in me.
I didn’t want The Reaper or The Reaping to define my life.
Yes, it happened. No, I wasn’t over it. But did I want to be? Hell yes.
I know I would probably be better off without Damon.
He is dark and dangerous, and I’m not entirely sure what we are to each other and whether I will ever be something more to him than a distraction.
But I want to find out. I want to explore who I am with him.
Hence, the feeling had settled that I might lose him if I didn’t find Damon now.
As I walk out of the room, and with my head clear for the first time, I notice the paintings lining the corridor. Flowers. This is the theme of each and every one of them. Chatting from the dining room steals my attention as I quickly make my way there, eager to find Damon.
Jordan and Kai, the sweetest guys I have ever met, greet me with warm smiles when I enter the room.
I am grateful they are here when Damon is not. But they are not Damon.
“Where is Damon?” Jordan looks at Kai, the expression on their faces making the anxiety in my stomach bloom.
“He said he will be back in a couple of hours.” Jordan doesn’t look at me but instead sips his coffee—one of the many littering my dining room table.
“But where is he exactly?” I stand there, looking between the two guys as they look at each other again.
“Is he in trouble?”
“No. He is fine. He said if you wake up, we must tell you he will return in a few hours.” A regurgitation of what he said to me moments ago with no new information.
I doubted they would tell me anything. They worked for Damon, and their loyalties probably lie with him and their paycheck, which is okay.
But irritating. I suppose I would have to handle this differently.
“Okay. I’m going to look for him. If he is back before I am, call me on my cell.” I don’t wait for an answer but spin on my heel and head towards the front door.
“No! You can’t leave. Damon said you must stay here,” Jordan shouts, a commotion behind me as he hastily tries to get up from behind the desk. Kai fares no better and knocks a coffee cup off the table, its contents and the glass crashing to the ground.
I spin around, eyeing them as they round the table, looking flustered.
“You can’t keep me here. Either way, I am going out to look for Damon. It would be easier if you just took me to him. I think Damon would probably prefer that out of the options currently on the table.”
Jordan and Kai look at each other, clearly unsettled by this scenario.
I was backing them into a corner. I just hoped it paid off.
When neither one says anything, I spin on my heels again, my hand on the doorknob when Jordan finally speaks.
I smile, knowing from the tone of his voice that I have won.
“We have a tracker on his phone, but we couldn't get in even if we took you to him. It's run by the mafia don's son, Alessandro. You need to be on the guest list. It's dangerous for you to go there. The people who go to those places are not nice people.”
Alessandro. Marcello's son. We are supposed to attend a party he is hosting sometime this week, but I had forgotten entirely with everything else going on.
“Why would Damon be going there then if it’s not for nice people and so dangerous?” The question makes Kai wince, while Jordan starts scratching his beard nervously.
They are not going to say much more. But they don’t have to. If Damon was going somewhere like that, then I needed to find him. This had to stop. Whatever this was.
“You will take me there, and I will get us in.” I spin on my heels, Jordan and Kai running after me as I exit the apartment.
“Wait. Please, Sienna. Let me call an escort. We have to be careful after your attack.”
A reminder of what I have been through halts me in my tracks as I turn around.
“Fine. I’m waiting.”
Jordan calls someone who says they will be outside in five minutes. He turns around, and I suspect he tries to call Damon, but he doesn’t answer, and the look he gives me is apologetic.
Kai locks up, and then we follow Jordan to the elevator. We must be on the top floor. There is only one other apartment on this level. I wonder who my neighbor is.
The elevator pings, and only as the doors are closing do I realize the carpeting on our floor—the tenth, as indicated on the elevator panel—is black. The same black as the carpeting of the private section at the back of Sin , where the seven rooms and Damon's office are.
“Who owns this building?” My eyes meet with Jordan’s in the reflection of the paneling lining the elevator interior.
“Um. Damon does?” His answer comes out as a question while he gauges my reaction.
I am not even surprised. This is typical of Damon.
When the doors open, a man standing before them startles me.
He dips his head in greeting and then turns around, walking towards the entrance.
“Our escort,” Jordan explains as we follow him through the fancy lobby, out the massive double doors where a doorman holds the door open for us, and to a sleek black SUV.
Our nameless escort opens the rear passenger door and waits, his eyes darting around.
“I’m sorry. We haven’t met. I am Sienna. And you are?” I hold my hand out, waiting patiently for the man to introduce himself.
He is slightly balding, in his late forties, wearing dull brown clothing like a salesman or something.
“Bob.” He doesn’t move to shake my hand, just eyes it wearily, so I drop it, giving him one last look before I climb in the back.
The slam of the door behind me is followed by three more as all parties climb in.
“Where to?” Bob takes the phone Kai holds up, probably indicating Damon's location.
“Are you sure?” Bob seeks confirmation, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
No. “Yes.” I nod my head, adding more conviction to the softly spoken word.
“He won’t be happy. Are we on the list?” Bob asks the car in general as he starts the engine, pulling off into a road I don’t know. I don’t even know which area we are in. When we came here, I was in no state to take notice of my surroundings. I remember Damon mentioning it is close to Sin.
“I’ll make the arrangements. ”
I pull out my cell and then type in the number I recall seeing on Damon's screen for Marcello, my photographic memory once again reminding me of its usefulness. I had been berating it since The Reaping, but I didn’t want my gift to be painted and tainted in regret only.
“Hello.” Marcello's accented voice is gruff on the other side.