Chapter 47

Alison

Damien had been gone for days and each passing moment without him had felt heavy, like something inside me was missing. And when he finally returned, I thought I would feel relief.

But instead, the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew something was wrong.

His face was set to a hardened gaze. His jaw locked so tight it looked painful, and his eyes—those same eyes that had once burned with intensity when they looked at me—were cold and distant.

Still, that didn’t stop me from approaching him.

"You're back," I said softly, approaching him as he sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands.

He didn't even look up. "Leave me alone, Alison."

I was taken aback by his words but I didn’t let it show. I bit my lip, forcing a smile. "You look like hell, Damien. What happ—“

"I said, leave me alone."

The sharpness in his tone made me shiver. My chest tightened, but I nodded, stepping away. I wouldn't try to gain his attention at least, not now. It was clear that he was angry.

I gave him space, waiting for him to come to me. And sure enough, later that night, he showed up at my chamber door.

I raised a brow, leaning against the doorframe. "Done sulking?"

He scoffed. "How does that matter to you?"

I frowned. "Damien, what the hell is going on? If something happened on your mission, just tell me—"

"I have nothing to say to you."

His words were like ice.

I crossed my arms, my frustration increasing by the minute. "Why are you acting like I have offended you or something?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked past me, heading straight for the dresser where he had left some of his clothes. He yanked them out, barely sparing me a glance.

"Where are you going?" I demanded.

He didn’t respond.

I stepped in front of him, placing my hand on his arm, trying to stop him. "Damien, talk to me."

His reaction was immediate. He shoved me hard and I hit the floor with a painful thud, the breath knocked out of my lungs.

"Stay out of my lane, Alison," he spat before walking out, leaving me sprawled on the ground, stunned.

I stared at the door long after he left, pain spreading through my chest like wildfire.

I forced myself to bed, some minutes after the incident, but I couldn’t sleep.

The way he pushed me. The way he looked at me as if I was nothing. As if I was no one to him replayed in my head.

My fingers curled into the sheets, my emotions taking over me.

I wasn’t going to sit here like some broken-hearted fool. If Damien wanted to act like this, fine. But I wanted answers.

I threw on a robe and stormed out of my room, my bare feet padding against the cold floors as I made my way through the dimly lit hallways.

As I got closer to the stairs, I heard a male voice, and followed by it was the sound of clinking glasses.

I followed the sound and froze when I reached the common room.

Damien was there, sitting at the head of the table, surrounded by his men. And he was laughing.

Laughing like nothing had happened.

Hugh sat beside him, nursing a drink, his eyes flicking to me the moment I entered. I barely spared him a glance. My focus was on Damien.

Before I could stop myself, I walked up to him. "I need to talk to you."

The laughter died down, and Damien leaned back in his chair, raising a brow. "And why the hell would I waste my time on you?"

I frowned. "Damien, stop this. Just—"

He turned to his men. "Who is this whore?"

A cruel chuckle rippled through the group.

I felt the blood drain from my face. My heart pounded in my chest, but I refused to let him see how much his words got to me.

"I need to talk to you," I repeated, ignoring the stares, ignoring the feeling curling in my stomach.

Damien smirked, taking a sip of his drink. "I don’t talk to whores."

I inhaled sharply, forcing the lump in my throat down.

I felt tears fighting to fall down my face during that moment I turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last.

I didn’t stop until I reached the garden.

I sank onto the bench, tilting my head back, and staring at the sky.

What have I done?

The voices in my head were relentless.

‘This is your fault. You let your emotions get in the way. You forgot the plan. You let him break you.’

A tear slipped down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away. No. I wouldn’t cry over Damien.

I wouldn’t.

I stared in the garden and an hour later I returned inside the mansion.

I was heading down the hallway when I heard a sound that made my stomach twist violently.

It was a moan.

As I took a step forward my heart slammed against my ribs when I came across Damien.

He was kissing Gemma in the hallway.

I watched as his hands roamed her body, sliding beneath her dress, and his fingers slowly disappeared between her thighs.

And then he looked up and our eyes locked.

Damien didn’t stop.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, he smirked.

That was the moment I knew—he wanted me to see this.

“You are so much better than Alison.” He whispered but I could still hear it.

I turned on my heel and hurried away, my breath shaky, my chest aching with something I didn’t want to name.

But as I rounded the corner, I came to an abrupt halt.

Hugh stood there, watching me.

I took a step back. "What do you want?"

His gaze was unreadable. "Relax. I’m not going to hurt you."

I narrowed my eyes. "I don’t believe you!”

He studied me for a moment before speaking. "You shouldn’t be afraid of me Alison. Damien is the one you should fear. He is going to hurt you, Alison, in ways you never expected it.”

I swallowed hard. "I don’t understand."

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Your time here is ticking."

A chill ran down my spine.

"Be prepared," he murmured. "Because when he comes for you, you might not survive it."

And with that, he walked away, leaving me alone in the dark, my heart hammering, and mind spinning.

What did he mean?