Chapter 222: The Devil’s Errand Girl

The terrace wind whipped through Damian’s damp dark hair, the rain misting against his black dress shirt. He lowered the phone from his ear, staring at the darkened screen, the lingering echo of Anastasia’s soft voice still vibrating through his chest.

?The glass doors behind him slid open.

?Jullian stepped out into the cold night air. The teasing grin, the cocky swagger, the roguish amusement... all of it had completely vanished.

?His face was drawn, pale, and tight with dread. In his hand, his phone glowed with a frantic stream of unread encrypted alerts.

?Damian didn’t turn around, his gaze fixed on the glittering, rain-slicked city below. "If you came out here to make another joke, Montgomery, save it."

?"Vivian is out," Jullian said.

?The city sounds seemed to vanish instantly.

?Damian’s broad frame stiffened, his fingers locking around the phone in his palm with enough pressure to crack the reinforced casing. Slowly, he turned around, his obsidian eyes cutting through the dark like twin blades.

?"What did you just say?"

?"The emergency appeal went through twenty minutes ago," Jullian said, his voice clipped and breathless as he held up the glowing display. "A third-party courier walked into the federal prosecutor’s office with a signed confession and forensic evidence claiming the entire harbor operation was a private mercenary hit orchestrated by a rival logistics firm. Vivian’s team filed a motion to dismiss with prejudice. The judge signed off. All charges dropped. She walked out of the federal holding facility ten minutes ago."

?The silence on the terrace grew suffocating, thick with the stench of ozone and approaching blood.

?"Dante Sullivan," Damian rumbled, his voice dropping into a register so dark and low it barely sounded human. "He bought the bench."

?"Of course he did," Jullian cursed, running a hand aggressively through his hair. He jammed his phone into his pocket, already spinning on his heel toward the club’s exit. "We need to move right now. We have to get to the girls ASAP."

?"No," Damian commanded.

?The single syllable cracked like a gunshot over the wind.

?Jullian stopped dead in his tracks, turning back with utter, furious disbelief in his eyes.

?"Are you out of your mind?!" Jullian snapped, taking a hard step toward Damian. "Damian, Vivian is a psychopath! She had Clara locked in a freezing basement and starved her for days just to lure Anastasia into a trap! They aren’t safe on their own in that penthouse. What if Vivian tracks them down right now? What if they wake up to a threatening text, or a package, or worse?!"

?"Vivian won’t strike tonight," Damian replied, his posture completely rigid, his features carved out of cold, lethal granite. "She has the law on her side again. A woman who just bought her innocence doesn’t burn it within an hour on a street hit. She’s going to gloat. She’s going to re-enter society like a tragic heroine."

?"And Clara? Anastasia?" Jullian pressed, his jaw clenched tight with panic. "You want to leave them alone while that viper is loose on the streets?"

?"Anastasia hasn’t had a single peaceful night in months," Damian said, his voice dropping into a chilling, absolute stillness. "She is laughing with her friend. She is eating food without wondering if it’s poisoned. She thinks the nightmare isn’t coming to her... yet."

?He stepped off the terrace, walking past Jullian into the warmth of the club, his aura turning into pure, suffocating thunder.

?"Let them sleep, Jullian."

?Jullian grabbed Damian’s shoulder, forcing him to stop. "And when the sun comes up? When Vivian sends that threatening text or shows up on the news? What happens when Anastasia looks at her phone and realizes the monster who tried to kill her is walking the streets a free woman?"

?Damian slowly glanced down at Jullian’s hand on his shoulder.

?A slow, terrifying shadow of a smirk played at the corner of Damian’s lips... cold, calculating, and merciless.

?"For that," Damian murmured, his dark eyes burning with deadly intent, "I already have something planned."

************

The private elevator at the Sterling estate chimed softly, but the man stepping out was radiating pure, unrestrained venom.

?Damian walked down the dim corridor of the residential wing, bypassing his own quarters and stopping abruptly in front of the ornate white door at the far end of the hall. Without knocking, he turned the brass handle and shoved it open.

?Inside, Valerie was propped up against a mountain of plush pillows, wrapped in an oversized silk robe. Her laptop rested on her bare knees, an empty bowl of strawberries sat on the nightstand, and noise-canceling headphones covered her ears as she scrolled lazily through European runway archives.

?The sudden crash of the door hitting the stopper made her jump.

?Valerie yanked the headphones down around her neck, glaring at her brother with theatrical fury. "Damian! Ever heard of knocking? Some of us are actually trying to rest before the morning fitting—"

?"Get dressed," Damian cut in, his voice flat, low, and completely devoid of warmth.

?Valerie blinked, caught off guard by the absolute lack of irony in his face. "Excuse me?"

?"You’re going to Jullian’s Tribeca penthouse," Damian ordered, taking two measured steps into the room, looming at the foot of her canopy bed like a dark, suffocating omen. "Now."

?Valerie stared at him, her mouth dropping open in utter disbelief. She threw her hands in the air, letting out a dramatic, prolonged whine.

?"Are you completely insane?!" Valerie complained, throwing her head back against the pillows. "It is nearly two in the morning! I just washed my face, I have a silk hair wrap on, and you want me to trek across lower Manhattan in the middle of a rainstorm to go crash Anastasia and Clara’s girls’ night? They will literally throw shoes at me!"

?"I don’t care if they throw knives at you," Damian said, unblinking. "You will pack an overnight bag, get into the back of my Maybach, and stay inside that penthouse until sunrise. You will not leave Anastasia’s side, and you will ensure she doesn’t check the morning society feeds until I arrive."

?Valerie scoffed, crossing her arms defensively over her chest, digging her heels in. "I am not your private errand girl, Damian. You chased Ana away with your suffocating control freak routine, and now you want me to play babysitter because your bruised little ego can’t handle her sleeping elsewhere? Find someone else. I am staying in bed."

Damian didn’t snap. Instead, he simply looked at her, his obsidian gaze dropping into a heavy, quiet stillness that immediately took the wind out of her sails.

?He took a step forward, resting his hands on the footboard of the bed, his voice dropping low.

?"Valerie, look at me."

?She looked, the playful defiance fading as she registered the rigid set of his jaw and the dangerous, protective strain in his posture.

?"You like to play the spoiled princess, and I let you because you’re my sister and I’ve spent my entire life making sure the ugliness of this city never touches you," Damian said, his tone firm, authoritative, but underscored by an undeniable older-brother gravity. "I indulge your whims, I fund your ateliers, and I let you roll your eyes at me because I can afford to let you take peace for granted. But when the stakes are real, you remember who keeps this family standing."

?Valerie sat up straighter, her fingers loosening on her silk robe.

?"I am not asking you to spy on her," Damian rumbled softly, his eyes dead serious. "I am telling you that Anastasia and Clara need someone they actually like in that room right now. You wanted to be part of Vance-Sterling. You wanted to prove you care about Ana as more than just a social fixture. So stop whining, get out of bed, and go be the sister she needs tonight."

?Valerie looked at him for a long beat, seeing right through the authoritative command to the fierce, protective instinct driving him mad beneath it. He wasn’t lashing out to hurt her; he was counting on her because she was the only person he genuinely trusted with Ana right now.

?She let out a soft, resigned huff, tossing the duvet aside.

?"You really don’t know how to ask for a favor nicely, do you?" Valerie muttered, swinging her legs off the mattress and walking past him toward the walk-in closet. "If my blow-out gets ruined in the rain, Damian, you owe me an entire Parisian couture rack."

?A faint, fleeting trace of amusement touched Damian’s lips before settling back into granite.

?"Take the secure phone from Henry by the door," Damian called out. "Keep them busy, Valerie."

?"Yeah, yeah," Valerie’s voice drifted back from the closet, already zipping up a travel bag. "Go handle whatever mess you’re hiding, big brother. I’ve got this."