Chapter 266: Watching

It was sweltering.

I bolted upright in bed, my trembling hand dragging across a face slick with cold sweat. Licking my parched, cracked lips, I stared through bleary eyes into the dark bedroom before collapsing back against the pillows. I winced in physical revulsion, the wretched sensation making my skin crawl—it felt as though someone had poured a bucket of water over my bedding. It was unbearable.

It drove me completely mad, twisting my insides into tight, sickening knots of discomfort.

A full week had passed since my discharge from the hospital, yet my body still refused to cooperate. I alternated between bone-deep chills and scorching, feverish heat—so intense that the clothes on my back grew damp, clinging to my skin with a sticky, suffocating grip. It burned from the inside out, as though an inner furnace had been ignited in my chest.

Pushing myself up to the edge of the mattress, I didn’t hesitate, stumbling on unsteady legs toward the window to nervously pull back the heavy blackout curtain.

Down below, bathed in the sickly amber glow of the streetlights, Damian’s sleek black car sat idling in its usual spot. It was as if he refused to leave my building at all.

Every single night, I woke up, crept to this window, and found him waiting there—shadowed beneath my windows like a silent guardian.

During the long, agonizing days I spent trapped in the hospital bed, he had remained close by. And strangely enough, I had slept like the dead every single night he was near. But the moment I dared to return home, peaceful rest vanished, leaving me to claw through the darkness for a few measly hours of sleep.

Was this some kind of cruel curse cast by Damian Rainn, or merely a trick of my own exhausted mind? I honestly didn’t know.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I pressed my burning forehead against the chilled glass. My thoughts kept circling back to the revelation that had upended my world. After his wild, unhinged confession—insisting that we shared a bond dating back to before I lost my memories—I hadn’t wanted to believe him. Not until I finally cornered my parents alone and forced the truth out of them.

My mother, weeping uncontrollably behind trembling hands, had shattered my reality. It was all true. They hadn’t birthed me; they had found me adrift in the freezing sea. I wasn’t their flesh and blood. And with choking guilt, they confessed that they bore some responsibility for why I had ended up in those deadly waters in the first place.

Hearing those words left me utterly hollow, paralyzed by a shock so profound I couldn’t even bring myself to demand details. I simply lacked the strength to digest any more of this nightmare.

Neither my parents nor I were equipped to face the wreckage of that truth tonight. We tacitly agreed to bury the conversation until a day when our hearts could bear it.

And then there was Damian. I never knew what to say to him. How was a fragile human supposed to act around a dangerous alpha who looked at her like she hung the stars? So, most of the time, I chose silence.

Judging by his stiff demeanor, he struggled just as much; our conversations constantly sputtered out, even when he made the effort to bridge the gap.

Leaving the hospital and returning home was supposed to be my salvation. Instead, this long-awaited sanctuary had transformed into a cage of sleepless torture—compounded by the terrifying reality that a possessive alpha was now prowling outside my door every single night.

He never crossed the threshold—no, he didn’t dare breach my space. He simply waited in his car through the dead of night, stepping out only occasionally to drag in the night air and smoke. Our eyes would inevitably meet through the glass pane of my window, locking in a charged, silent exchange before breaking apart. Neither of us dared to shatter the fragile, humming tension that stretched between us.

Now, watching him through the glass as he stood out in the cold, smoking, his head tilted wearily toward the night sky, I noticed something odd. He was wearing the exact same clothing he had worn yesterday.

A painful, uncomfortable tight squeeze gripped my chest at the realization. Had he not even gone home at all?

Releasing a heavy, wheezing breath, I stepped back from the window. On still-shaky legs, I made my way into the kitchen. I reached for the top shelf to retrieve my old high school thermos—the one I used to fill with tea so I wouldn’t have to keep making trips to the cafeteria.

After brewing a batch of strong, hot tea, I grabbed the pie my mother had baked earlier that evening. I sliced off a few pieces, carefully packing them into a plastic container. Throwing my father’s oversized windbreaker over my shoulders, I stepped into the hallway and quickly hurried down the stairs.

For this entire agonizing week, this was the closest we were about to be. A strange, frightening thrill bloomed inside my aching chest, and my feet quickened their stride almost against my own will.

Stepping out of the building into the crisp night air, I saw Damian slowly pulling the cigarette away from his lips. Unblinking, his intense gaze locked onto me.

Freezing in my tracks, I clutched the thermos tightly, its ridged surface pressing into my palms until it hurt. My stomach flipped into painful knots as his darkened eyes glided down, slowly assessing every inch of my exposed legs.

Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, horror suddenly struck me as I realized what I was wearing. I had gone to bed in tiny lounge shorts—and damn it all, they were the exact same shorts I used to wear under my maid outfit back when I worked at his estate! Did he feel even a shred of shame for how he used to force me to dress back then?

"Why are you out here, especially dressed like that? It’s freezing," he rasped.

His low, husky growl sent a shiver dragging straight down my spine. A violent tremor racked my body. Instinctively pulling my father’s jacket tighter around myself, I averted my gaze from the alpha, though his voice vibrated mercilessly along every raw nerve.

"When was the last time you were actually home?" I forced the words out, fighting to sound confident even as my voice betrayed me with a tremble. "Are you just going to stand out here scaring the neighbors? Rumors are going to start spreading about me soon."

Damian merely shrugged his broad shoulders with nonchalance. Slipping the crumpled pack of cigarettes into his pocket, he kept his piercing gaze fixed on me, though his heavy, brooding eyes were now locked squarely on my bare legs.

"Your neighbors only care about bumming cigarettes off me and asking if I want my car washed for cash," he replied, his tone entirely level. "They don’t give a damn about anything else, believe me."

The utter calmness in his voice only made me feel more flustered and self-conscious.

"That’s not true," I blurted out in a single breath. "If they figure out you’re staying out here because of me, rumors will spread that I have a boyfriend. You’ll ruin my reputation in the eyes of the neighborhood, and then you’ll have no choice but to marry me!"