Chapter 269 Will you tell me?

Clutching the hem of my black dress with trembling fingers, I desperately tried to calm the frantic, hammering rhythm of my heart and force myself to breathe. But it felt as though it would be easier to choke off every last trace of oxygen than to stop inhaling him.

Even beneath the rich scent of rain and cedar that clung to his skin, I could feel the invisible, potent aura of an alpha predator. I cast short, perilous glances at Damian through slightly lowered lashes, trying to catch any shift—the absolute minimum change—in his relaxed posture. Did he notice how I look right now? Did he sense how badly I’m trembling?

"What movie do you want to see?"

Startled by the deep, resonant timber of his voice, I snapped my bewildered gaze toward him. To be completely honest, the film choice hadn’t crossed my mind once. My thoughts had been entirely consumed all night—and through the agonizing hours of insomnia—by what to wear and how to look vaguely decent sitting next to an apex predator of his caliber.

"I don’t know..." I murmured quietly. Then, clearing my dry throat so my voice wouldn’t sound so pitiful and terrified, I added, "We can see what’s playing and decide when we get there."

"Good idea. Actually, I have no idea what I want to watch either."

The fleeting, almost ethereal smile that touched his lips made my heart skip yet another beat. It was already racing in my chest like a caged bird, but now it felt like a sudden freefall. It was as though my pulse had spent all evening climbing to dizzying heights, only to plummet straight down and shatter mercilessly against my ribs.

Turning my gaze away from Damian’s sharp profile toward the tinted window, I let out a shaky, desperate breath, trying to regain my composure. He’s just an extraordinarily handsome guy, I reminded myself. Just a guy who invited me to the movies as a friend. Strictly as friends.

Looking out at the dazzling, neon-lit streets of the upper city, I couldn’t help marveling at the sheer, breathtaking luxury of it all. From what I could gather, we had driven straight into the elite heart of the district, where everything looked intimidatingly expensive. The people walking along the immaculate sidewalks dressed in an entirely different league—nothing like the faded, worn clothes of the working-class pack members I was used to seeing back in my neighborhood. Naturally, the wealthiest upper-tier wolves lived here.

And right here was where Damian’s apartment building stood.

In the short time I had been staying with him, I often had the uncanny feeling that everyone residing in this upscale sector belonged exclusively to high-ranking pack royalty, elite warriors, or elite public figures.

Stepping out of my old building back home, all I ever saw were utterly exhausted, drained people weighed down by grueling pack labor and worn-out lives.

We felt like two entirely different species that should never have crossed paths. Because, apart from a shared childhood past—one that meant absolutely nothing to him and everything to me—we had no business existing in the same world.

"You said that..." I trailed off, knotting the fabric of my dress tightly over my knees. I desperately wanted to talk about it, yet I had no idea whether he would tell me the truth. "That we knew each other when we were kids. But how on earth did we end up so far apart? Did we go to the same nursery?"

"No. We lived together." His gaze darkened. "Didn’t your parents ever tell you anything?"

My senses flared as his effortless smile instantly morphed into a bitter, glacial grimace, his striking facial features tightening into harsh lines. Above all, it was his eyes. I knew that heavy, brooding darkness far too well. It gave away Damian’s volatile moods in a heartbeat, and right now, that mood was plummeting straight toward an abyss.

"No. Whenever I tried to ask, Mom would just start crying," I whispered, lowering my gaze. "So I figured maybe it was better not to ask them at all."

At last, releasing the hem of my dress, I clumsily smoothed it down with my damp palms, trying to flatten the ugly wrinkles caused by my relentless nerves. And to think I had actually tried my best, ironing it at home, only to end up crumpling it myself right where it mattered most.

"Your parents know a lot, but by no means everything," Damian said quietly. "In fact, they know nothing about how you lived before you came to them. They simply have no way of knowing".

Turning the wheel with one hand, he smoothly parked the car right in front of a massive shopping center. Its facade sparkled with a dazzling array of illuminated signs bearing luxury brand emblems, while right at the top of the building, a gigantic neon sign blazed with the name: Dopamine.

"Will you tell me?"

Gathering the courage to ask that question took an immense effort. On one hand, every fiber of my being was itching to uncover the truth; on the other, something deep inside me shivered traitorously every single time I so much as thought about it.

Our past shapes who we are, and without memory, a person is nothing more than a blank slate. Even if my memories amounted to fragments too sparse to form a complete portrait of my soul, I still longed to know what had happened. I desperately wished to remember what exactly tied me to Damian Rainn.

For a long moment, Damian stayed completely silent. After cutting the engine, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands with such beastly, repressed force that the leather wrap let out a pathetic groan.

At the same time, his face became an absolute mask, completely unreadable. It gave the eerie impression that his eyes had gone cold and dead, his features stripped of expression. Outwardly, he appeared entirely calm, yet his invisible alpha aura raged so violently that it felt as though the very windows of the car were vibrating.

"Yes. I’ll tell you. But not right now. You haven’t fully recovered yet, and the truth could come as a severe shock to you".

"Why?"

"Because you are going to hate what I have to tell you. And right now, you aren’t allowed to experience stress or anger. You haven’t fully healed".

Without waiting for me to press further, Damian stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

Fumbling frantically with my seatbelt, I reached for the handle to let myself out, but Damian beat me to it. Opening my door, he silently extended his broad palm to help me down. His car sat high off the ground, and given my chronic clumsiness, I likely would have tripped over the threshold and tumbled straight out.