29. Before the Storm
Before the Storm
Damian
The first thing I notice when I wake up is her.
Nichole is still asleep, her body curled slightly toward mine, her breathing soft and steady. Strands of dark hair spill across the pillow, her face relaxed in a way I rarely see when she’s awake.
No tension. No walls.
Just her.
I lie still, taking in the sight of her, my arm resting against the curve of her waist. For the first time in days, maybe even weeks, there’s no urgency clawing at me. No one to outmaneuver, no immediate threats to counter.
Just this moment.
Just her, here, with me.
I exhale slowly, my fingers tracing a light path along the bedsheet. I wonder if she’s dreaming. And if she is—is it of me?
Is it of us?
And if the dream version of her is watching over her now, what is she showing her? What secrets does she whisper in the quiet corners of her mind?
The thought makes something tighten in my chest—something deep, something dangerous.
Because I want to know all of her.
Not just this—not just the moments we steal, the battles we fight, the world we navigate together.
I want the part of her that even she doesn’t understand.
I watch her for another minute, soaking in the rare quiet, then slowly slip out of bed, careful not to wake her.
She stirs slightly, shifting against the warmth I leave behind, but doesn’t open her eyes.
Good.
I pull on a pair of sweatpants and step out of the bedroom, heading down the stairs into the kitchen. The house is still, wrapped in the hush of early morning. Outside, the forest looms, thick and silent, the world beyond us feeling impossibly distant.
Exactly how I want it.
Opening the fridge, I take stock of what’s here. Enough. Eggs. Bread. Fresh fruit. Good coffee.
I’ll make her breakfast.
I grab a pan, setting it on the stove, and start cracking eggs. A quiet satisfaction settles over me. She’s here. She’s safe. And for once, I can give her something normal.
Then, my phone vibrates against the counter.
I glance at the screen. Enzo.
The moment of quiet is over.
I pick up. “Talk to me.”
“The Berettis know,” Enzo says without preamble. “They’re already moving.”
I don’t react immediately, just let the words sink in, my grip tightening slightly on the phone. Not unexpected. But sooner than I thought.
“How many?” I ask.
“They’re pulling everyone in. Dante’s leading the charge himself.”
Of course, he is.
I let out a slow breath, my gaze flicking toward the stairs. She’s still asleep.
“They’re coming for her,” Enzo continues. “What’s the play?”
“Keep our men on high alert,” I say smoothly. “No one gets near this house.”
“Understood.” A pause. “And if they find us?”
I smirk, turning the burner lower as I flip the eggs in the pan.
“They won’t.”
I hang up and set the phone down, a quiet satisfaction curling in my chest.
Let them come.
They’ll find out soon enough—she’s not theirs to take anymore.
With a small shake of my head, I turn back to the stove, finishing breakfast.
The scent of coffee and fresh toast fills the air, lingering in the quiet warmth of the house.
She stirs before I even reach the bed, her body shifting beneath the sheets, stretching lazily like a cat waking from a deep, satisfied sleep.
Then, her nose twitches. The smell hits her.
I smirk, watching as her lashes flutter open, her gaze still hazy from sleep. She blinks once, then twice, her sleepy eyes locking onto me.
I raise a brow. “Morning, princess.”
Nichole’s lips part slightly, her brow furrowing as she props herself up on one elbow, looking at me like she’s still trying to figure out if I’m real.
And then she sees it—the tray of food balanced in my hands.
Her gaze flicks between me and the breakfast, suspicion creeping into her expression. “You cooked?”
I chuckle, setting the tray down beside her on the bed. “What, you think I don’t know how to take care of a woman?”
She tilts her head, eyeing the food. Fluffy scrambled eggs, toast, fresh fruit, a side of crispy bacon. And, of course, coffee.
“I don’t know,” she muses, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You just don’t strike me as the domestic type.”
I sink onto the edge of the bed, my smirk deepening. “I’ll have you know, I’m full of surprises.”
She picks up a piece of bacon, biting into it with a satisfied hum. “I’ll admit… I am pleasantly surprised.”
I shake my head, reaching for the coffee and handing it to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”
She takes it with both hands, cradling the warmth as she brings it to her lips. She takes a slow sip, sighing in pure bliss.
I watch her, my chest tightening slightly at the sight.
It’s such a simple moment. No games, no walls, no outside world clawing at us. Just her, in my bed, drinking coffee like she belongs here.
Like she’s mine.
She catches me staring and raises a brow. “What?”
I shake my head, leaning back against the headboard. “Nothing. Just enjoying the view.”
She smirks, setting her coffee down. “So, does this mean you’re going to bring me breakfast in bed every morning?”
I chuckle, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “Don’t get used to it.”
She hums in amusement, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth before nudging me playfully with her foot under the covers.
I catch her ankle, holding it just long enough to make her pulse jump.
“Careful,” I murmur, my voice low and teasing. “I don’t take well to demands.”
She tilts her chin, amusement flickering behind her eyes. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t need to demand anything.”
Damn.
I exhale a quiet laugh, shaking my head. She’s dangerous.
She leans back against the pillows, sipping her coffee with a satisfied sigh. “This is nice.”
I watch her for a moment, then nod. “Yeah,” I murmur, “it is.”
Nichole picks at the eggs on her plate, absently dragging her fork through them as she takes another sip of coffee. She’s quiet, thoughtful, her expression unreadable.
I let her have the moment, waiting, watching as she mulls over whatever’s turning in that mind of hers.
Then, finally, she speaks.
“You were in my dreams last night.”
I glance up from my own plate, my grip tightening slightly around my coffee mug.
That catches my attention.
She’s not looking at me when she says it, her gaze distant, like she’s still pulling the memory from the fog of sleep.
I set my cup down. “Yeah?”
She nods, still not meeting my eyes. “It was… hazy. Like trying to remember something right after waking up.” She frowns slightly, pushing her eggs around with her fork. “I don’t remember the whole thing—just glimpses. Fragments, really.”
I lean back against the headboard, stretching my arm along the top rail. “What do you remember?”
She finally looks at me, and there’s something in her eyes. Something unsure, but intrigued.
“You.” Her voice is quiet.
Something stirs in my chest, slow and deep.
“I remember us,” she continues, shifting slightly under the covers. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it wasn’t like a normal dream.” She shakes her head, frustrated. “It felt… different. Like it wasn’t just a dream, but a memory.”
A memory.
I keep my expression carefully neutral, but inside, something clicks into place.
She still doesn’t know.
She doesn’t know that her dreams—her other self—are more than just scattered images.
And she doesn’t know that I’ve been there, that I’ve seen her, touched her, spoken to her in a world that isn’t bound by time or logic.
She just knows what she felt.
I watch her carefully, my fingers tapping once against the tray before I ask, “What kind of memory?”
She exhales, pressing her lips together. “I don’t know. I just remember that… we were connected.” Her gaze flickers up to mine. “Like we’d done this before. Like we knew each other in a way that went beyond just—” She pauses, searching for the word.
“Reality?” I offer.
She nods slowly, her brows knitting together. “Yeah. Something like that.”
I take a slow breath, my mind working through the implications.
She’s starting to feel it. The connection.
She may not understand it yet, but it’s there.
And that means one thing—the wall between the two Nicholes is starting to crack.
I lift my coffee mug again, taking a sip as I watch her. “Interesting.”
She raises a brow. “That’s all you have to say?”
I smirk. “I’m still waking up.”
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head before picking up a piece of toast. “Well, let me know when you’re fully awake. I’d like to know what you think.”
Oh, princess.
You have no idea.