Chapter 4

• My breath caught in my throat as Damian stepped closer, his eyes narrowing dangerously. His fists were clenched, and I could feel the tension radiating from him, suffocating the space between us.
• “Damian, I—” I started, but the words choked in my throat. How could I explain this? How could I admit to him what I had done, knowing it would shatter whatever fragile thread of our bond still remained?
• “Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice low and filled with a threat that made my blood run cold. “Don’t lie to me, Annabel.”
• The weight of his gaze bore down on me, and I felt myself shrinking under it, my body trembling with fear. He had never looked at me like this before—not with such raw fury, such disgust.
• I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice was barely a whisper. “It’s not what you think…”
• “Not what I think?” Damian’s laughter was sharp, bitter. He stepped forward, towering over me, his eyes burning with accusation. “You come home wearing another man’s clothes, and you expect me to believe it’s not what I think?”
• I stumbled back, my heart hammering against my chest as panic gripped me. I had to say something. Anything. But nothing I could say would make this better.
• “I—It’s not—” I stammered, but Damian’s patience had run out.
• “Who was it?” he snarled, his voice rising, filled with rage. “Who did you betray me with? Tell me, Annabel!”
• The accusation hit me like a slap, and I flinched, instinctively raising my hands to defend myself even though he hadn’t touched me. The force of his words alone was enough to knock the air from my lungs.
• Tears welled in my eyes, the truth clawing at my throat, desperate to escape. But I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t admit that I had crossed a line, that I had sought comfort in the arms of another man—even if that man had offered me the escape I so desperately craved.
• But Damian wasn’t letting it go. His hands shot out, grabbing my wrist with a grip so tight it made me wince. “Tell me,” he growled, his voice cold and dangerous.
• “I—I was with Elijah,” I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips before I could stop them. The moment his name left my mouth, I regretted it. I saw the change in Damian’s expression—the shock, the disbelief—and then, the rage.
• “Elijah?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the venom in it was unmistakable. “My uncle?”
• I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to happen—”
• Damian released my wrist, shoving me away from him as if my very touch burned. “You slept with my uncle?”
• “No,” I cried, shaking my head. “It wasn’t like that. He just—he helped me. I was drunk, I didn’t—”
• “Don’t lie to me!” Damian roared, his fists slamming into the wall beside him, cracking the plaster. I jumped, fear gripping me as I watched him seethe, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
• I had never seen him like this. The anger, the betrayal—it radiated from him in waves, and I felt myself drowning in it.
• “You’re nothing but a disgrace,” he spat, his voice trembling with fury. “I knew you were weak, but this? Sleeping with my uncle?”
• I flinched at his words, the shame washing over me like a cold wave. He wasn’t wrong. I was weak. I had let my desperation drive me into the arms of another man—someone who wasn’t mine to claim. And now, I was paying the price for it.
• “I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words hollow and meaningless, even to my own ears.
• Damian’s eyes flashed with contempt as he stepped toward me, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry doesn’t erase what you’ve done.”
• I bit my lip, choking back the sobs that threatened to break free. I didn’t know what to say, how to make this right—because deep down, I knew there was no making this right.
• Damian’s eyes raked over me, his expression hardening with every second that passed. “Get out,” he said finally, his voice cold and distant.
• I blinked, not sure I had heard him right. “What?”
• “I said get out,” he repeated, his tone icy. “I don’t want to look at you right now.”
• The words cut through me like a knife, and I felt my knees go weak, my body swaying with the weight of his rejection. But I didn’t argue. I didn’t try to fight. There was nothing left to fight for.
• With trembling hands, I turned and stumbled toward the door, my vision blurred by tears. The house that had once been my home now felt like a prison, suffocating me with every step I took.
• As I reached for the door handle, I paused, my heart aching with the finality of it all. This was the end. The end of whatever Damian and I had once been. The end of the life I had built with him.
• But as I opened the door, a cold voice stopped me in my tracks.
• “This isn’t over,” Damian said, his tone low and threatening. “You’ll regret this, Annabel.”
• I froze, my hand gripping the door as a shiver ran down my spine. There was no mistaking the promise in his words. Damian wasn’t going to let this go. Not now. Not ever.
• I stepped out into the cold, my body trembling with both fear and guilt. I had broken something that couldn’t be repaired. And now, I would have to live with the consequences.
• The air outside was sharp and bitter, cutting through my skin as I stumbled down the path away from the house. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of Damian’s words hanging over me like a cloud that wouldn’t dissipate.
• I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t know what I was going to do. All I knew was that I couldn’t go back—not to him, not to the life I had ruined.
• The streets were empty, the early morning light casting long shadows as I wandered aimlessly, my mind spinning with thoughts I couldn’t control. Damian’s rage. Elijah’s touch. The weight of my own guilt pressing down on me until I could hardly breathe.
• What was I going to do?
• My phone buzzed in my pocket, the sound jarring in the silence. I pulled it out, half-expecting it to be Damian, but the name on the screen made my heart drop.
• Elijah.
• For a moment, I just stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the “decline” button. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I had done.
• But before I could make a decision, the call ended, only to be followed by a text message.
• “Don’t ignore me, Annabel. We need to talk.”
• I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t want to talk to him. But the thought of what Damian might do—what he might become—left me with little choice.