Chapter 128 - ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY EIGHT

Chapter 128: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY EIGHT

ANGEL

Daddy was dead.

I’d watched him die. It was my fault he died. I’d seen him bleed out on that floor.

But my brain wouldn’t accept any of it.

I kept expecting the door to open and reveal his dark eyes, his arms ready to wrap around me and make everything safe again. Every time the door opened, I looked up expecting to see Daddy striding through.

But it was always him.

Damien.

The bedroom was large, modern and cold, nothing like Vincenzo’s warm bed. Dark silk sheets instead of white cotton. Large windows that sealed out the world.

I wanted this to be a dream. To believe that somehow Daddy was still alive. I just wanted to wake from this nightmare and Daddy would be there to hold me, to stroke my hair, to tell me it wasn’t real.

But it was real. And I couldn’t wake up.

It was already night. The windows were dark, the room lit only by the bedside lamp. I jerked slightly when the door pushed open.

Damien strode into the room, and something was different about his energy now. He looked riled up for some reason and I wasn’t about to care why. He could choke on whatever was bothering him for all I cared.

I watched as he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside. I saw the bandage on his shoulder. Blood had soaked through the white gauze—he must have been moving too much. The bullet wound from Daddy’s gun.

I hoped it hurt. I prayed inwardly that it festered and rotted and killed him slowly. Now he was shirtless, I noticed the other marks on his body.

Scars.

A whole lot of them that just made him look more terrifying. He’d been scary before but right now, I could only compare him to a devil that had crawled out of hell and decided to stay.

They covered his left side, spreading from his shoulder down his ribs like melted wax had been poured across his skin. The skin was still discolored in places, angry red patches that hadn’t fully healed.

I watched as he began to unwrap the soaked bandage, his movements coordinated despite his obvious annoyance. He took his time with a skill that told me he was used to tending to himself. Another knock sounded at the door. Damien didn’t look up from his task, just grunted permission.

A familiar figure walked in.

Ines.

I recognized the housekeeper from the island immediately. She carried a tray of food, steam rising from it. The smell should have made my stomach growl, but all I felt was nausea.

Thankfully she kept it at the distant table. Her eyes darted toward me, just briefly. Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving me alone with him again.

Damien finished rewrapping his shoulder with fresh bandages. Then he picked up a glass of water from the tray and approached me.

"You must be thirsty." His voice was soft, but it still made my blood run cold.

I gave him a blank look as he set the glass on the bedside drawer and sat on the edge of the mattress. His finger came up to trace along my cheekbone.

"Come on, baby girl. Give me something. Anything that tells me you’re still in there."

I said nothing, my voice trapped somewhere in my mind where I couldn’t reach it. More like I didn’t want to.

"Say something." He was still studying me with those unnerving grey eyes. "Tell me you hate me. Tell me you’ll kill me. Blink twice if you can hear me. Something."

He was on the bed now, his weight settling between my thighs with a familiarity that made bile rise in my throat. My body knew his shape. Knew his heat. His face hovered close to mine, grey eyes boring into mine, searching for something I refused to give.

I looked at him. Dark hair. Intense eyes. The shape of a man looming over me, wanting me, needing me. And my broken brain misfired, seeing what it wanted to see instead of what was really there.

"Daddy?" I whispered hopefully.

But it wasn’t Daddy. It would never be Daddy again. The thought bolted a fresh wave of pain through my chest, cracking something open that I’d been trying to keep shut.

"Why did you kill Daddy?"

Damien’s expression shattered.

The searching look disappeared in an instant, replaced by volcanic fury mixed with something that looked almost like hurt. Like I’d slapped him.

"Why did you kill HIM?" My voice was higher now, breaking with grief.

Deep inside, I knew it was all my fault—if I hadn’t tried to find Jillian, none of this would have happened. But the weight of the guilt, the grief, it was too heavy. I couldn’t carry it alone.

I needed someone to blame. And he was right fucking there.

Everything came rushing back. Daddy’s eyes going dead while I screamed. All of it, crashing through my blank state and I felt it all once again.

The pain.

The rage.

Pure, white-hot fury that burned through me like wildfire.

"GET OFF ME!" I snapped at Damien who was still looming above me.

My hands came up like weapons and my nails found his shoulder—his wounded shoulder—and I raked down hard, tearing through the fresh bandages, finding the tender flesh beneath.

Damien’s eyes widened. Surprised. But I didn’t give a fuck about his reaction. I was already moving, twisting beneath him like the feral animal he’d always called me. My fingers found his bullet wound and I dug in, tearing at damaged tissue, feeling fresh blood well up hot and wet against my hands.

"FUCK!"

He jerked back but I held on, refusing to let go. I wanted to reach inside and tear out whatever black thing he had instead of a heart.

"Angel!" He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, finally forcing me to release him. We were both breathing heavily, blood dripped from his reopened wound, painting his scarred skin in streaks of red.

"There she is," he breathed, chuckling like I’d just done something adorable.

The bastard was laughing now with blood running down his body while I wanted to murder him.

"There’s my little wildcat. Fuck, I missed this. The silent treatment was getting old."

"I’ll kill you!" I spat directly in his face.

"Ah, there she goes." He wiped my spit from his cheek, completely unbothered. "I was so afraid I’d lost you to whatever sad little place you’d crawled into. Thought I might have to start monologuing to fill the silence." He grinned, "And nobody wants that."

His smile only ignited my fury further. He thought I was fucking predictable and maybe I was. Daddy used to say I always acted impulsively, never stopped to think about the consequences of my actions. But right now, what could I do? I didn’t know how to escape this. And even as I hissed out my next words, they sounded empty to my ears.

"I’ll fucking kill you for what you did!"

"What I did? What the fuck does that even mean" He said as I thrashed beneath him only for him to use his grip on my hair to pin my head to the pillow. His smile was savage. "Baby girl, I think you’re confused about what happened in that house."

"You killed him!" The tears were burning in my eyes now, hot and furious, spilling down my temples into my hair. "You killed Daddy! You murdered him!"

"No." Damien’s voice dropped, the laughter fading from his eyes. "I didn’t."

"He’s dead because of you!"

I tried to throw him off, but he was too heavy, too strong. His grip on my hair tightened until my scalp screamed in protest, until tears of rage mixed with tears of pain.

"Think about it, Angel." His free hand came up to stroke my cheek, almost tender despite the brutal grip in my hair. The contrast made my stomach turn. "Use that pretty little brain. Who pulled the trigger? Who put those bullets in Vincenzo’s body?"

I didn’t respond. The memory was right there, but I didn’t want to look at it.

"Jillian. Your precious Daddy’s wife. She’s the one who shot him. Not me." He said it slowly, letting each word sink in. "And what did I do? I put a bullet in the bitch who murdered your Daddy. I avenged him." His eyes bore into mine. "I didn’t kill Vincenzo. His cunt of a wife did. And I made sure she paid for what she did. You should be thanking me."

He sighed, as though he genuinely believed he shouldn’t be explaining this to me.

"If you hadn’t tasered Daddy in the first place, he wouldn’t have been shot by that stupid doctor!" I snapped at him.

Amusement flickered across his face."Oh, we’re playing that game now?" He cocked his head, studying me. "Interesting. If we’re going down that road, baby girl, let’s really commit. If you hadn’t snuck out of the house, none of us would have been there.Vincenzo wouldn’t have come looking for you."

"Shut up—"

"If you’d just stayed put like a good girl. your precious Daddy would still be alive."

The words hit me like a knife to the gut. Because he was right. He was fucking right and I hated him for saying it out loud, for making me face what I already knew.

"So before you start pointing fingers at me, sweetheart..." He leaned closer, his breath hot against my face. "Maybe take a good hard look at yourself. But that’s bygone, let’s talk about the real issue."

His gaze turned sharp, and he tugged my hair hard. A cry escaped my mouth before I could stop it. "Why did you forget me?"