Chapter 30 – Damian
Chapter Thirty
DAMIAN
Pain claws through my side with every breath. The bleeding has slowed, but the fire hasn’t. It’s bandaged for now, but the pain is so raw I’m not thinking clearly. Doesn’t matter. I’m not thinking anyway. I’m running on instinct. And fury.
Bridger floors it, tires screaming as we fly down the wrong side of a street lined with polished homes and trimmed hedges. This neighborhood wasn’t built for chaos. It’s too quiet and clean. We’re the storm crashing through.
I grip the door handle so tightly my knuckles burn. Sweat slicks down my back, soaking my shirt.
Marlowe.
She’s out here with Joel and that fucker Zero.
And Neve’s with them.
If anything happens to either of them . . .
“Morning Sky! Take a right here!” I bark.
Bridger cuts the wheel hard, the SUV lurching as we squeal around the corner, nearly clipping a mailbox.
That’s when I see them. Two figures sprinting across a pristine lawn.
Neve’s waving us down. Marlowe’s beside her, hair flying, face pale under the streetlight.
Relief punches through me so fast it nearly leaves me breathless.
She’s alive. I collapse back into the seat.
It hits me: I was worried about her. Really worried about her. I’m not ready for what that means.
“Oh, fuck,” Bridger snarls.
My relief evaporates instantly. Replaced by pure, blinding rage when Zero comes into view, lunging toward them, gun drawn. I know his eyes are only locked on her. And he’s gaining.
“Run him down if you have to,” I say, my voice flat. Cold.
Bridger doesn’t respond. He just slams his foot on the gas. The engine roars. Zero turns just as the headlights catch him. But he doesn’t move fast enough. The SUV clips him hard. Bone and muscle thud against steel. He rolls, limbs folding over the pavement like a rag doll.
Neve screams.
Marlowe stops dead, eyes wide, chest heaving, frozen in the wash of light.
I’m out the door before we’re fully stopped, the pain in my side tearing like hell fire.
“Lo!”
She stares at me. Shaking. Breath punching out of her lungs. But she’s alive. She’s really here—with the money. It creeps in slow, this warmth in my chest I don’t know what to do with.
She grabs my arms, her fingers trembling. Her throat is bruised. The corner of her mouth is stained with blood.
“Who did that to you?” Whoever it is will pay. Whoever it is will bleed.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, swiping her hair forward to cover her neck. “I’m so sorry about what Vick did to your mom.” Black streaks of makeup cut down her face. Her pleading eyes undo me.
I don’t know what to do with her apology. All I see is the dark handprints on her skin and the rage is staggering. “Get in the truck.” It’s all I can say.
She nods, hiccuping, stumbling into the SUV with Neve, the two of them slamming the door behind them.
Boom.
The side window detonates. Glass explodes inwards, raining glittering shards down inside the backseat. A guttural scream tears from Marlowe’s throat. Zero’s arm punches through the shattered window, his bloodied fist smashing inward.
I whip around and find Zero, blood on his face, fury in his eyes. He reaches in and grabs. He isn’t going for Lo, though. He’s going for the bag. The leather strap jerks tight in Marlowe’s hands as he claws at it, dragging it through the broken glass like it fucking belongs to him.
That’s my mother’s money.
I don’t think. I move. Pain rips through me as I rush forward. My side screams, the bullet wound a blast of fire with every step. I grab Zero around the chest and tear him off the SUV. He’s solid. Thick-necked. Almost my size. Almost. I get behind him and, in one clean, brutal move, I twist.
The snap is sharp. Final.
“Not your money,” I growl through my teeth.
Zero drops. Dead.
Silence hangs for half a second. Then I hear a soft gasp behind me. I turn and find Marlowe staring through the broken window, bits of glass still clinging to the frame. Her face is lit by the streetlight. Her eyes are wide, stunned. Then she fucking smiles at me.
“Pop the trunk,” I rasp.
Bridger pops it with a click.
Marlowe doesn’t take her eyes off me, doesn’t even blink.
I haul Zero’s body up and position myself under his arm like he’s nothing but a drunk friend I’m picking up off the curb. And I throw him in the back of the SUV.
The slam of the trunk echoes across the quiet street. A coyote cries out in the distance.
Marlowe opens the door and I slide in next to her. Neve climbs over the middle console and drops into the passenger seat, breathless and shaking, but already giving Bridger directions on where to go.
Bridger’s hands are white-knuckled on the wheel, eyes scanning the road like he’s waiting for the next attack.
Neve glances at him, just once, her expression softening for a split second before she turns away again.
I watch the look. The way she leans just slightly toward him, the way her voice lowers when she says his name.
Bridger doesn’t notice. Or maybe he’s pretending not to.
I wonder when the hell he’ll finally open his eyes and see it—see her.
It’s not my business. What do I know about relationships anyway?
I suck in a sharp breath and lean against the door. Pain flares through my side, hot and grinding. The movement pulls at the wound like it’s trying to tear me in half. I turn to Marlowe and she’s staring at me. Mouth parted, chest rising and falling way too fast.
Then her gaze drops off, past me, toward the back of the SUV. At what I just did. At what I just put back there. Her eyes flick back to mine. Her voice comes out quiet, flat. “Is that… another dead body?”
I don’t answer at first. Just hold her stare. Let her see it. Then I nod once. “Yeah. I warned you, didn’t I?”
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Marlowe shifts beside me, her hands still trembling as she pushes the bag across the seat. “Here’s the money,” she says. “There should be more in there than there was before.”
More?
I frown and drag my gaze to the bag, blinking against the pounding in my head. “More?” I echo.
She blinks, as if the question surprised her. “I… I won,” she says. “A few games. About eight hundred thousand. It would have been more but I had to give some away to Pearl Necklace to help us get out of there.”
My brain doesn’t process it right away.
She won. Eight hundred grand? In one afternoon?
With a pearl necklace? My head swims, not just from the shock but from the way the pain’s been building, pushing up through my spine, wrapping around my ribs like wire.
I’m vaguely aware of my body leaning too hard against the door, my fingers twitching, too numb to hold anything.
“Are you serious?” I ask, staring at her like she’s from another planet.
She nods. Then her eyes shift, drop to my shirt, and go wide. “You’re bleeding,” she gasps. “Oh my god, Damian!” Panic overtakes her. She lunges at me, her hands flying to my side, lifting the hem of my shirt. Her fingers are shaking as they press into my skin.
She’s getting my blood all over her.
“Bridger!” she yells, her voice tearing through the SUV. Damian’s bleeding. He’s not okay. He’s—”
Her voice echoes strangely in my ears, distorted and far away.
The world around me tilts, the edges darkening.
I blink slowly, trying to focus on her face, her hands pressing into my ribs, her hair sticking to her cheek.
She brushes it back with the back of her hand, and my blood smears across her skin.
It’s on her cheek. Smudged across her forehead.
Her eyes lock on mine. Maybe I’m dying. Maybe it’s just the shock. But I can’t stop staring at her. She’s trying to hold me together and I’m falling apart, and she’s covered in my blood.
And she’s so fucking beautiful.
“Lo,” I breathe. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Everything fades to black.