7. Cara #3
“He showed me the hospital records.” I step forward. Out from behind Damien. “Three months in a psychiatric facility. Right after you seduced her and threw her away. Just like you did to me. Just like you’re doing to Amanda.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” I hold his gaze. “You’re a predator, Marcus. You find vulnerable people and you break them for fun. But you made a mistake with me.”
“And what’s that?”
“You didn’t break me all the way.” I feel something shift inside me. Some last remnant of fear, crumbling to dust. “I’m still standing. And I’m going to make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of monster you are.”
Silence.
Marcus looks at me - really looks - and for the first time, I see something other than contempt in his eyes.
Fear.
It’s gone in an instant, buried under layers of charm and control. But I saw it. I know I saw it.
“This isn’t over,” he says quietly. Then he turns and walks away, disappearing around the corner.
I wait until his footsteps fade before I let myself breathe.
“Are you okay?” Damien’s voice is rough. His hand hovers near my elbow, not quite touching. “Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” I look down at my wrist. Red marks where his fingers dug in. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“Damien.” I meet his eyes. “I’m okay. Really.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he nods, short and sharp.
“Let’s get out of here.”
***
The truck is warm after the chill of the estate.
Damien drives in silence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I watch the city lights slide past the window and try to process everything that happened - Victor’s cold contempt, the grandmother’s unexpected approval, Marcus’s hand on my wrist.
I can still feel the pressure of his fingers. The bruises are already forming.
“He’s never going to stop.” Damien’s voice breaks the silence. “You know that, right? He’s not going to just… give up and leave you alone.”
“I know.”
“So what do we do?”
“We fight.” I turn to look at him. “We gather evidence. We build a case. We make sure that when this goes to court, no one can believe his bullshit anymore.”
“And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, we don’t let him see us scared.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then he pulls off onto a dark side road - a scenic overlook, the city glittering below us like scattered diamonds.
“What are you doing?”
“Parking.” He kills the engine. Turns to face me. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m not-” I look down at my hands. They’re trembling. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
“Come here.”
Before I can protest, he’s reaching across the console. His hands cup my face - warm, rough, impossibly gentle.
“You were incredible back there.” His voice is fierce. Low. “The way you stood up to him. The way you didn’t let him twist your words or make you doubt yourself.”
“I was terrified.”
“I know. That’s what made it incredible.”
His thumbs trace my cheekbones. Slow. Careful. I can feel my pulse everywhere - my throat, my wrists, the hollow between my collarbones.
“Damien…”
“I know.” His forehead drops to mine. “I know we said we’d wait. I know there are a hundred reasons why this is a bad idea.”
“Then why did you pull over?”
“Because I couldn’t watch you be that brave and not tell you-” He stops. Takes a breath. “Cara, I have wanted you since the moment you walked into that parking garage. Since you stood up in front of that entire crowd and burned my brother’s world down. Since-”
“Don’t.”
He pulls back. Hurt flashes in his eyes. “Don’t?”
“Don’t start something we can’t finish.” My voice is barely a whisper. “Not like this. Not when I’m shaking from what just happened and you’re angry and neither of us is thinking straight.”
For a long moment, he just looks at me. I can see the war playing out across his face - what he wants versus what’s right.
Then he closes his eyes.
“You’re right.” The words come out rough. Strained. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”
“Don’t apologize.” I put my hand over his, where it still rests against my cheek. “Just… when we do this - if we do this - I want it to be because we chose it. Not because we were scared or angry or looking for comfort.”
“If?” His eyes open. “Not when?”
“I don’t know what I want yet.” It’s the truth. It’s terrifying, but it’s the truth. “Everything is so complicated right now. The divorce, the lawsuit, Marcus still trying to control me-”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve waited eight years for someone brave enough to stand up to my family.” His voice is soft. Certain. “I can wait a little longer for you to figure out what you want.”
Something cracks open in my chest. This tenderness I’m not used to. This patience I’ve never experienced.
“And if I decide I don’t want this?” I ask. “If I’m never ready?”
“Then I’ll still be here.” His thumb brushes my cheekbone one last time before he pulls away. “As your friend. Your ally. Whatever you need.”
“Damien…”
“I mean it, Cara.” He starts the engine. “No pressure. No expectations. Just… when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
I believe him.
That’s the scariest part of all.