Chapter 32
“Daddy’s almost there!” Damon shouts through the earpiece. It should comfort me, but his tone is laced with panic.
I clamp my hand harder over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut as tears spill down my face. I can’t answer him, because someone is in here with me. I can hear them.
Every slow, measured footstep they take across the marble floor is deafening inside the cramped darkness of the closet. I’m curled in on myself, pressing against the back wall, while I fight desperately to keep my breathing quiet.
My pulse is racing so violently, I swear it’s shaking my entire body. The trembling only grows as the footsteps move closer to the closet door.
Oh, God…
The earpiece crackles faintly against my ear, but Damon’s voice doesn’t follow. I press my palm harder to my lips to stop the threatening sob from escaping.
Please. Please don’t let them find me.
The footsteps stop directly outside the closet, and every muscle in my body freezes. Silence crashes over the room so completely I can hear my pulse rushing in my ears.
I watch in horror as the doorknob slowly turns, my heart lunging so far into my throat I choke on it.
The metal shifts slowly with a quiet click that echoes like thunder.
No… no… no… I squeeze my eyes shut, terror trembling through my entire body.
My lungs seize completely as tears stream helplessly down my cheeks.
This is it. They found me.
The knob jerks harder, springing into place as a violent crash explodes on the other side of the door.
Then suddenly?—
A crash booms from the other side of the door.
Shouting erupts almost immediately after, followed by the violent sounds of a brutal scuffle.
Heavy bodies slam into the walls, hard enough to shake the entire closet around me.
And somewhere in the chaos, something clatters loudly to the floor.
The noise shifts farther away in a rush, crashing across the bedroom like someone is being dragged or thrown around the room.
A deafening bang erupts, the sound rattling through the walls like an explosion. I scream into my hand before I can stop myself. The terrified sound tears straight out of me, muffled, broken, completely uncontrollable after holding everything in for too long.
The closet door rips open, and light floods the tiny space. A shriek flies from my lungs. Pure instinct takes over as I throw myself backward, arms and legs flailing wildly while terror completely blinds me. “No! No, please?—!”
“It’s me!” Strong hands catch my wrists before I can strike out again. “It’s Daddy.”
Damon. Daddy.
The realization slams into me, and I stop fighting.
My vision clears enough to finally see him kneeling in front of me, sweat-covered, with blood smeared across his torso.
His chest is heaving violently as his eyes rake frantically over me, like he’s checking for injuries faster than his mind can process them.
He quickly checks over every part of me for injuries, something inside him visibly breaking when he finds me unharmed. “Mackenzi?—”
I throw myself at him so hard, we nearly topple backward. A sob rips from my chest as his arms close around me, crushing me to his bare skin with terrifying strength. His body is hot and trembling against me, his heart hammering wildly upon my cheek.
“Oh my God,” I cry, broken. “I thought?—”
“I’ve got you,” he breathes, with one massive hand cradling the back of my head as he rocks me gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
His voice is rough and unsteady. It’s not like the calm, controlled Damon I’m used to.
“I’ve got you,” he repeats fiercely, holding me even tighter. “I’ve always got you.”
His words shatter whatever fragile control I have left, and I completely fall apart.
Sobs wrack through me uncontrollably as I cling to him with shaking hands, burying my face in his chest so hard it hurts.
He smells like sweat and gunpowder, but somehow that combination feels safer than anything ever has in my life.
His hands never stop moving, slowly stroking through my hair and clinging to me so tightly it’s like he physically cannot let go of me. “You’re safe,” he murmurs over and over with his lips pressed to the top of my head. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you, trouble. I’ve got you.”
Suddenly, his comms faintly crackles beside my ear and I barely catch Gunnar’s muffled voice breaking through the static. “Status?”
Damon doesn’t loosen his hold on me even slightly. “Mackenzi secure,” he answers roughly. “Threat neutralized.”
The entire command channel seems to exhale at once.
“Copy,” Gunnar replies. “Final sweep underway.”
Damon pulls his earpiece out and returns all his attention to me. He cups my face gently with both hands, forcing my eyes up toward his, and I’m met with an expression I could have never imagined on his face. Terror. “Why didn’t you answer me?” he asks hoarsely.
Fresh tears spill instantly down my cheeks. “I couldn’t,” I whisper brokenly. “I heard him in my room… I thought if I answered?—”
His jaw tightens so violently I can actually see the muscle twitch beneath his skin. “I was so fucking scared I’d lost you.” Damon’s forehead drops onto mine as he exhales shakily, his hands trembling where they hold my face.
“I couldn’t get to you fast enough.” His voice cracks slightly on the last word. “Jesus Christ, Mackenzi…”
I have seen the soft, romantic side of Damon when he takes care of me, but I’ve never seen his armor cracked completely open. He really thought he might lose me. The thought sends fresh panic clawing through my chest and constricting my lungs because I realize how close it actually came.
Damon seems to read the fear returning to my face. “Hey,” he says quickly, brushing his thumbs beneath my eyes. “Look at me.”
I try, but my whole body suddenly feels stuck in survival mode.
“I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice softens instantly. “Breathe for me, trouble.”
His hands slide down my arms slowly, grounding and steady.
“You’re safe now.”
I stare at him through blurred vision as he guides me patiently, his own chest rising and falling in tandem with mine.
In.
Out.
Again.
“Good girl. Nice and slow for me.”
Eventually, the panic loosens enough for me to actually see him properly, and I actually register the blood smeared across the side of his neck. “You’re hurt.”
He runs his hands over his skin, and his eyes soften immediately. “It’s not mine. I’m okay.”
Relief crashes through me so violently, my entire body sags against him. His arms tighten almost painfully around me again, like he still can’t convince himself I’m actually here. His lips press to the top of my head, and he whispers, “I have never been that scared in my entire fucking life.”
I tilt my head back enough to look at him. His eyes are locked on me with an intensity so raw it almost steals the breath from my lungs. He pulls me impossibly closer and presses his lips to my forehead.
“I don’t know what I’d do if—” The words stop abruptly as he sighs shakily, like even saying them out loud hurts too much.
My fingertips dig into his shoulders as his half-confession threatens to devastate me. This man—this terrifyingly controlled, lethal man—would have done anything trying to get to me.
Damon’s hand slides around the back of my neck and into my hair, fisting it just enough to press his lips to mine.
It isn’t frantic or hungry, the way our kisses usually are.
This kiss feels stripped completely bare.
His mouth trembles slightly because this isn’t about desire at all—it’s relief.
A broken sound escapes my throat as I kiss him back.
His forehead presses harder against mine between breaths.
An uneven exhale leaves him when my fingers slide into his hair.
“You’re mine to protect,” he whispers roughly against my lips. “Mine to take care of. And I swear to fucking God, nobody is ever getting that close to you again.” The possessiveness in his voice should probably terrify me. Instead, it makes my entire chest ache, because he means it—every last word.
Damon drops one more kiss on my mouth, slower this time, before carefully pulling back. His hands linger on my face for another second, like he physically doesn’t want to let go.
“Can you stand for me?” he asks softly. I nod, even though I’m not entirely sure.
He shifts first, unfolding himself from the cramped closet floor, helping me carefully. My legs are shaky as I crawl to my feet, one hand clinging tightly to his forearm. The second I stand fully, my knees nearly buckle.
“Easy.” Damon catches me instantly, gripping my waist before I can collapse. “I’ve got you.” He steadies me patiently until my balance returns enough to stand on my own.
He walks me from the closet. My bedroom is wrecked.
Furniture lies overturned, and one of my lamps has shattered completely against the wall; glass glittered everywhere beneath the soft bedroom lighting.
The mattress has been partially dragged off the bedframe, as if bodies crashed into it during the fight.
On the far side of the back wall, dark crimson smears streak across the white marble in violent streaks that cause my stomach to lurch.
Damon’s hand tightens around mine, and he steps directly into my line of sight, blocking everything else from view. “Don’t look,” he instructs. “Just look at me.”
I swallow hard and focus on him. He lifts our joined hands and presses my knuckles briefly to his lips before guiding me carefully toward the bedroom door.
His fingers stay locked with mine, like some part of him still believes I could disappear if he relaxes his grip for even a second.
“Jesus Christ,” Gunnar mutters from down the corridor, blood smeared along his arm and a gun still clenched tightly in his hand. His eyes scan over me quickly before settling on Damon. “She okay?”
“She is now,” Damon answers. And the way his fingers tighten around mine tells me everything I need to know.
He’s never letting go of me again.