21. Willow
21
WILLOW
I sit at a table in the back of the library, my fingers tracing the edge of my notebook, but my thoughts are far from anything academic. I can’t focus on the page in front of me. The words blur together.
Cast has been MIA for two weeks now, and Vincent has stepped in like the perfect guy, the one I can rely on to distract me from the ache in my chest.
He’s been taking me out on dates—always thoughtful, always considerate. Dinner, movies, walks through the park… the whole nine yards. I should be grateful, right? But every time he smiles at me, all I can think about is how much of it feels like a performance.
Safe. Predictable. Comfortable. But my mind keeps running to Cast.
Cast, whose absence has made everything feel off-balance. I don't know what he’s dealing with, but I can't help the gnawing worry in my stomach that something is wrong.
I need him.
I need the real him—the one who’s intense, unpredictable, the one who makes my pulse race with the smallest touch, the one who’s tangled up in the cartel, in all the darkness that makes him who he is. But he's been gone, leaving me in this limbo, half of me stuck on hold, waiting for him to come back and pull me from this strange, hollow place.
And then there's Damien.
I can feel his presence without even looking at him. Every time I catch a glimpse of him across the room, it’s like he’s a storm in human form.
Moody. Angry. Distant.
Since the night everything changed, since the night I gave Vincent my virginity and Damien broke down the walls with that kiss. Everything has been different between Damien and me.
He’s distant, like he’s been made of ice and fire at once. He grunts when I try to talk to him, barely looks me in the eye, and when he does, it’s like he’s looking through me, as if I’m some ghost he can’t quite place.
I know why he’s angry. He’s angry because he wants me and hates me for it. He hates me because I’ve taken something from him that he’ll never get back—his mother’s heart. I don’t even know how to fix that, but every time I try to reach out to him, it’s like I’m talking to a wall.
I glance up at Damien now, sitting a few tables away, his eyes fixed on his textbook but not really reading it. His jaw is clenched tight, his whole body radiating frustration.
I don’t know if it’s me or the situation with his mother that’s got him so twisted up, but I can’t get through to him. I don’t know how to make it better. And every time I try, the silence between us just grows.
Damien doesn’t look up as I pass by his table, but I can feel the heat of his anger pressing against my skin. He’s a storm waiting to break, and I don’t know how much longer I can stand in the eye of it without getting swept away.
I turn around and walk back toward him, my heartbeat louder in my ears with every step. I stop in front of his table, but he doesn’t look up. His gaze stays fixed on his textbook like I don’t exist.
“Damien,” I say, barely above a whisper, my voice trembling.
Still no response.
I clear my throat, trying to steady myself. “Damien, can we talk?”
Finally, he lifts his eyes to meet mine. His stare is cold—calculating—and I feel it hit me like a punch to the stomach. There’s no warmth, no softness, just an icy fury that makes me want to shrink back, but I can’t. I won’t.
“What’s there to talk about, Willow?” His voice is low, clipped.
I blink, caught off guard by his tone. “You’ve been avoiding me. I don’t understand why.”
He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing, lips twisting into a bitter smirk. “You don’t? Well, let me break it down for you.”
I freeze, my stomach dropping. He stands, his height making me feel small as he steps closer. His presence is overpowering, and I want to run, but I stay rooted to the spot.
“You ruined my life,” he spits, each word punctuated with a growing intensity that makes my pulse race. “My mother saw you and all your innocence and instead of going through another round of chemo she gave you her heart, Willow. And now I’m an orphan. I’m alone, and you—you get to keep living like nothing happened. Like you didn’t destroy everything by just being you.”
The words hit me like a slap, and my chest tightens. I want to argue, to tell him it wasn’t like that, but his anger is a storm that’s too strong to fight against.
I open my mouth, but the words get stuck in my throat. “I didn’t—” I start, my voice shaking.
Damien’s eyes flash with rage. “Don’t play innocent. You know exactly what you did. You took everything from me, and now you think you can just act like we’re fine? Like I’m supposed to just forgive you?”
I feel like I’m suffocating, the weight of his words pressing down on me until I can barely breathe. I don’t know how to respond. I never wanted this. I never wanted any of it.
“You think I’m supposed to just move on, huh?” His voice rises, his fists clenching at his sides. “Well, I haven’t. I loved her. And you don’t get to just erase that, Willow.”
Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not now.
“I didn’t mean to—” I whisper, my voice barely audible, but he cuts me off.
“You took her from me,” he snaps. “And now I have to live with that every day. While you… you get to pretend everything’s okay. You think you can fix it with a smile? You think you can just—just—fix everything?”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to make him understand that I never wanted this, that I would give anything to change it, to give him back his mother.
But I can’t. I can’t fix this.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I manage to choke out, my hands trembling.
Damien glares at me, his lips curling into a cold sneer. “No. But I know this. You took everything, Willow. And I don’t owe you anything. Not now, not ever.”
His words hit me like a physical blow. He turns away, walking toward the exit without a second glance. The finality of his dismissal cuts deeper than anything.
I stand there, frozen, trying to process what just happened, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in my chest. But the room feels too small. The air too thick.
Tears fall without warning, streaking down my face as I turn and run. I don’t care who sees, who hears. I just need to get out of here.
The tears come faster now, too fast to stop, as I dart out of the library, my chest tight with every sob. I don’t care that people are staring. I don’t care that they hear me. I just need to escape, to get away from the weight of Damien’s words. They echo in my head—his anger, his bitterness, the accusation that I ruined his life.
I’m barely a few feet from the door when I bump into someone.
"Willow?"
I look up, wiping my face with the back of my hand, and see Vincent standing there, his brow furrowed in concern. His gentle eyes, always so full of care, soften as he takes in the sight of me—a mess of tears and pain.
“What happened? What’s going on?”
I shake my head, trying to get my breath under control. But the words spill out before I can stop them.
“Damien... he... he said I ruined his life. That I took his mother’s heart, and now I’ve left him an orphan. He said... he said I don’t get to fix it. I don’t get to fix him. He hates me, Vincent. And I don’t know what to do. I just...” My voice cracks, and the tears start again, unstoppable.
Vincent’s expression hardens, his jaw tightening. But he doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just looks at me with such intensity, like he’s trying to decide something. Then, with a sharp exhale, he nods.
“Give me a minute, Willow. Just... stay here.”
Before I can protest, Vincent turns and walks back toward the library, his steps purposeful, his body tense with anger. I watch him, confused and still shaken, as he disappears through the door.
I stand there, caught in the quiet for a few long seconds. And then, I hear it. Vincent’s voice, rising above the soft murmurs of the library.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Damien?” Vincent’s words are a growl, filled with fury. “You make the girl I like—no, the girl I love—cry, and you don’t even care?”
I don’t know how, but I move closer, drawn to the confrontation like a magnet, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
Vincent is standing in front of Damien now, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face is red with rage.
“You’ve been acting like a fucking asshole to her for weeks. You think she’s just gonna keep taking it? You think you can break her like this and she’ll just let you? She’s a fucking person, not some tool you can use for your anger, Damien!”
Damien looks unfazed, but there’s a flicker of something—resentment, defiance—in his eyes. He leans back in his chair, a smug, almost cruel grin spreading across his face.
“I don’t care about her, Vincent. You know what she is to me?” He leans forward, his voice dripping with venom. “She’s the fucking heart-stealer. The one who took my mother’s heart and left me with nothing. She doesn’t get to fix me, not now, not ever.”
Vincent’s eyes flash with pure rage, and without another word, he moves in. The next thing I hear is the sickening crack of his fist connecting with Damien’s jaw.
Damien staggers back, a curse escaping his lips as he rubs at his face. The anger in Vincent’s eyes is primal, wild, and for a moment, I don’t even recognize him.
“That’s for making her cry,” Vincent growls, his voice low and filled with something darker than I’ve ever heard. “And that’s for calling her a heart-stealer. She didn’t steal shit from you.”
Damien glares up at him, his eyes wild with rage, but he doesn’t move to retaliate. He just stands there, nursing his bleeding nose with one hand, the other curled into a fist at his side.
“You’re not worth it,” Vincent mutters through clenched teeth, his voice low and seething. “You don’t get to hurt her anymore.”
Damien grits his teeth, his nostrils flaring. “I don’t care, Vincent. Do what you want. I don’t give a shit, be me? I’m done.”
The coldness in Damien’s voice cuts through me, but Vincent is already moving. He turns to face me, his anger melting away the moment he sees me standing there, looking lost and fragile.
“Willow,” Vincent says softly, walking toward me. He reaches out, his hand gentle as he cups my face, wiping away the remnants of my tears. “I’m taking you to Cast’s house. I can’t leave you here, not like this.”
His voice is calm, but I can hear the determination behind it. The heat of the moment is still alive in his chest, but he’s already thinking about me—protecting me. I can’t help but feel both touched and conflicted. I didn’t want to cause any more trouble. I didn’t want anyone fighting over me.
“Vincent…” My voice falters as I look between him and Damien, still standing there, staring at us. Damien’s gaze is full of venom, but it’s not aimed at Vincent anymore. It’s all directed at me.
“I don’t care, Willow,” Vincent says, cutting me off. “You’re not staying here. Not while things are like this. I’ll take you to Cast’s place, and I’ll make sure you’re safe. I have some things I need to take care of, but I don’t want to leave you alone in my house, not when everything’s this... unstable.”
The weight of his words hits me, and I can’t help but feel a rush of relief mixed with uncertainty. Vincent is always there, always trying to fix things, always trying to make everything right. But there’s no fixing the mess I’ve made of everything, no matter how much he tries.
He pulls me into his arms, his grip firm but tender, guiding me toward the door. I glance over my shoulder at Damien one last time. His face is still bruised, blood dripping from his nose, but his eyes are hard and empty.
I swallow the lump in my throat, fighting the confusion and sadness threatening to swallow me whole. But Vincent is already walking me out, pulling me away from the chaos, away from the conflict that’s suffocating me.
I let him. Because, for the first time in weeks, someone is taking control, someone is telling me what to do, and I don’t know how to handle it—but I don’t have the energy to fight.