Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Damien
The door slammed shut behind me.
The lock clicked into place.
The hallway stretched empty and silent except for Garrett's ragged breathing. I turned back to him, rolling my shoulders—forcing every muscle to stay loose. Controlled.
He hadn't moved. Blood dried at the corner of his mouth from the first hit, but the smug sneer persisted.
"You think that's going to stop me?" He spat blood onto the carpet. "You think you can stop me?"
"You mean like the last time?"
The voice that came out of me was feral. The sound of Garrett's hand cracking against Candace's cheek echoed in my mind. Followed by all the others.
"You got lucky," he snarled.
A humorless laugh ripped free. "You are so goddamn lucky I love that woman in there, or you'd be a puddle on the ground right now."
He laughed. "Love? Emma?"
Emma. My Emma.
"Excuse me?”
He laughed harshly. "Nobody could love that cunt—"
My vision narrowed to a point. Him. That word.
My fist slammed into his nose, bone cracking on impact.
Oops.
"Thought your owner told you no more violence," he choked, blood pouring freely now.
"She'll understand," I ground out.
Breathe, Damien.
Stay in control.
She won't give you a second chance.
I dragged in air, forcing my hands still as I pulled out my phone.
Garrett's fist came out of nowhere. Sloppy. Desperate. Caught me wrong on the chin—more wrist than knuckle.
A punch thrown by a man who'd only ever hit people who couldn't hit back.
And that wasn't me.
His expression shifted when I took it in stride—panic flickering as he realized his mistake.
Too late.
The monster in me lifted its head, fire threading hot and familiar through my veins.
Just one.
Emma would understand.
…Wouldn't she?
I wound back and gave him a real one. Proper form. Full rotation.
He hit the ground hard.
"Come on." I stood over him.
Screams echoed in my skull, drowning out reason.
"Didn't you want a fight?" My voice dropped into something barely recognizable. "Wasn't that the plan? Show up at her door. Throw your weight around. Call my woman a cunt."
He scrambled backward, blood smearing the carpet.
"Get up."
I prowled closer, vision tunneling.
"You wanted to go. So let's go."
He lurched to his feet and bolted down the hallway toward the elevator, blood dripping.
This was the edge—the place men like my father never stopped.
Is that me?
I shook my head.
I'm not him. Not him.
He jabbed the elevator button. Once. Twice. Three times.
I pulled out my phone as I walked.
"911, state your emergency."
"I'd like to report a trespasser."
My voice stayed calm. Pleasant. Polished.
"Man showed up at my friend's apartment. Harassing her. Refusing to leave. He has a history of domestic violence against her."
Garrett's head whipped around—panic slicing through bravado.
"Yes, he's still here," I continued. "Bleeding, actually. He took a swing at me. I defended myself."
The elevator dinged. Doors slid open.
He stepped in.
So did I.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed.
"Making sure you leave."
"I'm leaving."
"Good." I leaned against the back wall, arms crossed. "Then this won't take long."
I gave the dispatcher the address. She confirmed the officer's arrival.
The slammed door heard in the hall had triggered an earlier call.
The elevator doors slid shut.
"You think you're some kind of hero?" he spat. "Swooping in to save her?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"I'm the guy who's going to make your life very difficult if you ever come near her again."
He laughed—wet and bitter. "You don't scare me."
I almost admired the confidence.
The elevator slowed. Dinged.
The doors opened to the lobby.
Red and blue bled through the glass doors.
Garrett froze beside me.
I stepped out first. "That's him, officers. The one with the broken nose."
"I didn't do anything!" Garrett screeched. "He attacked me!"
"Sir, we received multiple reports of harassment and trespassing at this address."
"Multiple?" I asked.
The officer nodded. "Your call, a report from building security, and a neighbor who overheard the disagreement."
"This is bullshit—"
"Sir."
"I'd like to provide a statement," I said, hands sliding into my pockets.
"And you are?"
"Damien Holt."
Recognition. Respect. A subtle shift.
"Mr. Holt. We'll take it from here."
Garrett went still as they guided him toward the desk. Not cuffed—yet.
And then it hit him.
The truth.
He'd chosen the wrong enemy.
He glanced back at me, panic flickering beneath the rage.
I held his gaze.
Unmoving. Unsmiling.
And let him understand—fully, completely—the man he'd just made an enemy of.
Candace
The door opened and Damien stepped inside, a bruise blooming beneath the scruff on his chin. My eyes locked in the blood drying across his knuckles.
My heart didn't leap to worry for him. It vaulted straight to Garrett.
"Damien—what did you—did you hurt him? Is he—"
Emma looked between us, fear tightening her features.
"He'll be fine," Damien said quietly.
"Oh god." My breath stuttered. "Garrett… he'll be so mad. You don't understand—if he thinks I—"
Emma moved closer. "Candace, he showed up screaming at your door. He reached for you. Damien didn't—"
"I KNOW what he did!"
The shout tore out of me—jagged and wrong.
Emma flinched.
So did I.
Silence pressed down, thick and suffocating.
Damien shifted. "The police are downstairs. They took my statement. They asked if you wanted to give yours."
No.
No, no, no.
"I'm not talking to them," I said too fast. "Absolutely not."
"Candace—"
"No." My pulse roared. "If he thinks I called them—if he thinks I cooperated—he'll come back. He'll do worse."
Damien's hands curled at his sides. "He's already done worse."
"No, you don't understand he'll—"
Emma knelt in front of me, steady and gentle. "Candace… he nearly shoved his way into your home tonight. Protecting him won't change him."
"He wasn't going to hurt me this time," I insisted, even though the words tasted like glass. "He just wanted to talk. He gets like that."
"We can't take that risk," Emma murmured.
I fisted my hair. "I shouldn't have answered the door. I shouldn't have met him for dinner. I shouldn't have—"
"No." Her voice sharpened. "You don't get to carry his violence."
My throat closed. "Someone has to."
Damien inhaled sharply, the sound loud despite the roaring in my ears.
Emma reached for my hand. I pulled away.
"You don't understand," I said again, closing my eyes. "He'll blame me. He always blames me."