Chapter 36 – Damian
Chapter Thirty-Six
DAMIAN
The early morning sun creeps over the horizon as we drag Zero’s body to the back lot of our land.
The ground’s hard as hell, but we dig deep, dirt caking our hands, sweat pouring down our faces.
My side aches with every movement, the pain threatening to drop me to my knees.
Bridger takes over when I can’t anymore, covering the grave while I lean against the truck, trying to catch my breath.
After the last shovel of dirt is patted down, Bridger wipes his brow, spits on the grave, and mutters, “Good riddance, asshole.”
I force myself upright, trying to shake off the dizziness. Bridger wipes his hands on his jeans, squints at the grave, and then glances at me. “Think we should say a few words?”
I huff out a bitter laugh. “Fine. Here lies Zero—a man of few words, mostly because his vocabulary was limited to grunts and threats. Hobbies included sucking Joel’s dick, being a pain in my ass, and making me want to kill him every damn time he opened his mouth.”
Bridger snorts, tossing the shovel into the truck. “Beautiful. Really tugs at the heartstrings.”
I climb into the passenger seat, wincing as the ache in my side flares up again.
Bridger starts the engine, but I can’t stop my mind from circling back to Marlowe.
She’s probably awake by now, realizing we left, cursing my family because we’re not coming back.
The thought makes something in my chest ache.
It doesn’t sit right with me, leaving her behind like that.
Bridger notices the way I’m zoning out. “You can’t still think she was in on it,” he says.
I don’t answer. Just stare out the windshield, fighting the urge to punch something.
He shakes his head. “You know she wasn’t.”
I glare at him, but the anger doesn’t stick. Images of last night flash through my mind—Marlowe pressing against me, her hands on my chest, her lips soft and desperate. The way she looked at me, like I was someone she could trust. Like I was someone worth something.
I liked it too much.
“Okay,” I admit, gritting my teeth. “She didn’t know about the money.”
Bridger glances over, eyebrows raised. “What makes you think that now?”
I look down at my hands, dirty and scraped.
“When shit hit the fan, she covered Mom with her own body. Didn’t even hesitate.
And after I killed Zero, she didn’t look at me like I was a monster.
She looked at me like I was her fucking hero.
” The confession tastes bitter, but it’s the truth.
I didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to feel anything, but I do. And it’s too late to pretend otherwise.
Bridger leans back, crossing his arms. “You left her to fend for herself, man.”
I swallow hard, staring straight ahead. “She’s better off without me.”
He scoffs. “Then why do you look like someone just ripped your guts out?”
I grit my teeth, my fists clenching in my lap. “I didn’t think it would bother me.”
“Yeah, well, it clearly does. And for what it’s worth, I never thought she was in on it.”
My head spins. I don’t know why I kept fighting it. Maybe because it’s easier to think she’s just another liar. Easier to leave if I don’t let myself care. But that’s bullshit. I already care too much, and it’s tearing me apart.
Bridger gives me a sideways look. “You’re scared because you don’t want to feel anything. And she made you feel something.”
Wrong. She made me feel everything. I press my palm against my aching side, trying to focus on the pain instead of the mess in my head. “Fuck.”
Bridger raises an eyebrow. “You really think you could just walk away?”
I don’t answer. I know I fucked up. I know I shouldn’t have left her. I can’t just walk away from her, not now. Fuck. I’m a selfish prick.
Bridger smirks, like he knows I’ve already made up my mind. “You should have listened to me instead of your fucking triggers.”
“I get it,” I snap, slamming my fist against the dashboard.
“I shouldn’t have left her. But I can’t just .
. .” I trail off, my chest tightening. The truth hits me like a punch to the gut.
I want her. Not just her body pressed against mine, not just her lips on mine.
I want her safe. I want her to trust me. I want to be the man she thinks I am.
Bridger gives me a knowing smile. “I’ll just wait here until you get to the right answer.”
I exhale sharply, the pain in my side pulsing with every heartbeat. “I have to go back.”
Bridger starts the engine, pulling out onto the road. “No shit.”
I don’t say anything, just grip the door handle to keep from punching something else.
I hate this feeling—this fear that I might have lost something good before I even had the chance to figure it out.
I know I’m no good for her. I’m poison. But it doesn’t matter.
I can’t let her go. “Drive faster,” I mutter, leaning back against the seat, forcing myself to breathe through the pain.
Bridger smirks. “Yeah. Yeah.”
As we speed back toward the motel, my mind races with all the things I should’ve said. I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to make this right. But I’ll be damned if I let her think I’d abandon her. Fuck, I acted like I wasn’t any better than Vick.
We pull into the motel parking lot and Bridger kills the ignition. My heart’s pounding, and I don’t know if it’s from the pain in my side or the rush of finally being back. The room’s right there, door cracked open, but something feels off.
I shove the truck door open and step out, ignoring the pull in my side. Bridger follows, but I’m already crossing the cracked pavement. The door’s wide open now, and I see a maid inside, running a vacuum over the stained carpet.
I stop dead in my tracks. “Where is she?” I demand, louder than I mean to.
The maid looks up, startled. “Sorry, sir?”
“The woman who was in this room. Where is she?”
She blinks, still holding the vacuum hose. “This room’s been empty for a while. I started cleaning about an hour ago.”
I push past her, stepping into the room. The bed’s stripped, fresh sheets laid out, no sign of Marlowe, and the money I left is gone. This isn’t good. “Did you see her leave?” I snap.
The maid shakes her head, eyes wide. “No. I just came to clean. The key was in the door. Nobody’s been here.”
I turn back to Bridger, and he’s watching me with that look. The one that says I fucked up. Again.
“Did you leave a note?” he asks.
I grind my teeth. “No. Just some money.”
He shifts closer to me, mouth falling open. “How much money?”
“Five thousand on the nightstand,” I whisper.
His mouth twists into a grimace. “So you left her five grand after you slept with her and just took off?”
I don’t say anything.
Bridger whistles low, rubbing a hand over his face. “Damian, man . . . I wouldn’t have stayed either. You just treated her like a—”
“I know,” I snap, cutting him off.
He looks at me, eyebrows raised. “What did you think she’d do? Just sit here waiting like a damn loyal puppy?”
I was just trying to make sure she had enough to get back home when I didn’t come back. But the way Bridger says it makes it sound like I left her a payout for services rendered. Fuck. I can’t stand still. I pace the room, running a hand through my hair, every muscle coiled tight.
Bridger leans against the doorframe. “Maybe she went back to Arden’s.”
His words hit me like a shot of ice down my spine. My hands curl into fists, and jealousy burns low in my gut. The thought of Marlowe going to Arden, of that smug bastard putting his hands on her, looking at her the way he did last night…
“She wouldn’t,” I mutter, but even I don’t believe it.
“Why wouldn’t she?” Bridger shoots back. “You left her with no explanation, no idea if you were coming back. And Arden’s just down the road. It makes sense.”
My mind’s spinning, thinking of all the ways Arden could be using her, playing the nice guy while I’m gone. I can see his easy smile, his slick words, the way he looked at her like she was just another pretty thing to claim.
I need to get to her. Now.
Bridger watches me, his expression softer than usual. “Look, man . . . I know you didn’t mean it to come off like that. But Marlowe doesn’t know what’s going on in your head. You left her money and took off. You really think she’s just gonna wait around to see if you were coming back?”
I run my hands through my hair again, my pulse racing. “I didn’t think—”
“That’s the problem,” Bridger cuts in. “You don’t think. You just react. You gotta fix this.”
I force myself to take a breath, steady the rage and guilt clawing at my chest. I need to find her.
I need to make sure she’s safe, make sure she knows .
. . I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.
But I know I can’t stand the thought of her being with Arden, or anyone else for that matter.
She’s mine. I just didn’t realize how I felt about her until right now.
Bridger sighs. “Let’s check Arden’s place. Maybe she went back there. And if she didn’t . . . we’ll figure out the next move.”
I don’t answer, just push past him back toward the truck. I don’t want to think about why I feel this way or how it hit me so hard and so sudden. All I know is I can’t let her slip away. Not when I finally figured out she’s starting to mean something to me.
And if Arden so much as touched her . . . I shove the thought down and climb into the SUV. Bridger’s right behind me, not saying a word, just giving me space to stew.
We pull up to Arden’s clinic, and the place looks just like we left it—a little rundown, neon sign buzzing faintly in the late afternoon sun. My pulse is a tight, angry throb, and I don’t bother waiting for Bridger. I’m out of the car before it even stops rolling.
Bridger calls after me, but I’m already pushing through the front door, shoulders tense, eyes scanning the room. Arden’s behind the counter, his back turned, organizing a stack of papers.
I cross the room in three strides and slam my hands down on the counter. “Where the fuck is she?”
Arden jumps, papers scattering to the floor. His eyes go wide when he sees me, and for a second, there’s something in his expression—guilt? Panic? “Damian,” he stammers, holding up his hands. “What—what are you talking about?”
I don’t buy it for a second. I lean over the counter, eyes locked on him. “Marlowe. Where is she?”
Arden’s face goes blank, like he’s trying to play dumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You left with her, didn’t you?”
My jaw tightens. I can feel Bridger stepping up behind me, tense and ready.
“You’re lying,” I growl. “You’re not that smooth, Arden.”
He swallows, his eyes darting to the side. “Damian, I didn’t mean to—”
I don’t give him a chance to finish. I round the counter, grab him by the throat, and slam him against the wall hard enough to rattle the hanging diplomas. He chokes, hands clawing at mine.
“Don’t play games with me,” I snarl, pushing harder. “Start talking, or I’ll snap your neck like a goddamn twig.”
A young woman with a cat in a travel cage shrieks and bolts out of the office, her sneakers squeaking against the floor. The bell above the door jangles as she makes a run for it.
Arden’s face turns red, his mouth working around gasps. “I saved your life,” he chokes out. “Last night. Remember?”
“Don’t care,” I snap. “Where. Is. She?”
Bridger shifts behind me, looking at the door to make sure no one’s coming in.
Arden’s nails dig into my wrists, his voice rasping. “Damian—please—”
I tighten my grip, my pulse hammering. “I know you’re lying, Arden. I can see it in your eyes. If anything happens to her—"
Arden’s face contorts with panic, and finally, he croaks out, “Okay! Okay! Just—let me breathe!”
I ease up a fraction, just enough for him to suck in air.
“Joel’s put out a reward,” Arden says, voice shaky. “Ten grand for anyone who finds you—or the girl. He’s calling in favors, putting out feelers. I didn’t have a choice, Damian. It’s ten grand! You know how hard things are around here.”
I slam him back against the wall, making the diplomas rattle again. “You sold me out for ten grand?”
He gags, his eyes bulging. “I needed the money. I swear, I didn’t think—”
I release him, and he drops to the floor, clutching his throat, wheezing.
My blood is boiling, the rage making my vision blur.
I want to break him. I want to put him through the wall.
But Bridger steps in, keeping a hand on my shoulder.
“We need to find Marlowe,” he says, his tone calm but firm.
“Killing him right now is a waste of time.”
Arden coughs, trying to straighten himself up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he sputters. “I’m sorry.”
I crouch down, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, yanking him close. “If anything happens to her because of you, I’m going to burn this place down with you in it. Understand? Did Joel say anything to you?”
He nods frantically, eyes wet with fear. “He . . . he said if you came looking for her, to tell you he’d be waiting at the dump with her dead body.”
I shove him back, disgusted. Bridger pulls me away, his expression grim. We back out of the clinic, my hands still shaking, adrenaline burning through me.
Back in the SUV, I stare out the windshield, breathing hard. Bridger starts the engine, glancing at me.
I slam my fist against the dashboard, the pain flaring up in my side again. I don’t care. I’ll burn this whole city down if he hurt one hair on her head.