CHAPTER 20

Damon jolted up in bed, sweat covering every inch of pale skin. Gasping, he clutched his chest, feeling as though his heart was being ripped out. Everything hurt, but looked healed, every part of him battered and bruised from the fight with the rebels, not to mention the nasty cut on his side that he was lucky didn't slice out a kidney or worse.

But the pain he felt right now wasn't physical; it was spiritual. Soul-wrenching.

Something was horribly wrong.

Glancing to the side, there was no one in the room. Hadn't he looked up just hours ago and seen Scar at his side, dozing off in an uncomfortable position in her chair because she'd been too stubborn to leave him to go sleep in another bed.

Loyal to a fault, she was.

So where was Scar now?

His sweat felt like little beads of ice on his skin when he noticed the envelope on the stool Scar had been sitting on. He reached over and grabbed it, finding that the outside said 'Damon' in neat cursive. He didn't know what Scar's hand