DAMIEN

 

 

Another fucking day, another fucking black-tie event. Except, this one I wanted to attend for purely selfish reasons.

Her.

It had been three weeks since I’d had Amira right where she belonged, beneath my body and in my arms again. Consuming my thoughts, my actions, my words, and my decisions, the same way she always had since the first time I ever laid eyes on her. Although, no matter how hard she tried, she never had the power to save me from myself. I, on the other hand, had the power to destroy us both.

Time after time.

Further proving my point at the restaurant, triggering her to run away from me, from us…

Mainly, from herself.  

I shook off my demons, knowing now was not the time, nor the place, to be reminiscing about the hold I’d always have on her. So, I simply straightened the lapels of my tuxedo jacket and exited the limo shortly after ten o’clock at night, welcoming the cool evening breeze on the inferno burning inside of me. I walked through a well-maintained courtyard full of greenery that went on for miles, enclosing the vast property where the event was being held. Swiftly making my way over to the two sets of stair pathways ascending up to the main entrance where several men stood checking guests in at the door.

I didn’t waver, promptly handing my driver’s license and invitation to the security detail standing out front, feeling an instant sense of déjà vu hitting me fucking hard and all at once. It wasn’t the same mansion I invited myself into months ago, but it was still one of Vlad’s estates, and the guard eyeing me up and down with a menacing regard happened to be one of the men I chose not to kill that night.

“How’s the leg?” I snidely remarked, reminding him of the last game we fucking played, ending with me shooting him in the leg. “I could’ve aimed higher,” I mocked, nodding to his dick. Not appreciating his goddamn glare focused solely on my eyes.

He shoved my driver’s license into my chest, gritting out, “Enjoy your evening,” in a forced tone.

I scoffed out a chuckle, reluctantly letting him have that jab. It was too early in the night to start any trouble. I knew Amira was in attendance, and that was the only reason I was attending this shit show to begin with. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued why Vlad had invited me in the first place. We weren’t exactly friends, but not quite enemies either.

At least not yet.

If he so much as put his hand on Amira again, I’d make sure we were fucking rivals until death. That’s if I didn’t put a bullet between his eyes first for touching what’s mine.

The guard signaled toward the large doors of what appeared to be a nineteenth century gothic-style mansion with high pointed peaks that formed a steepled roof, ascending toward the dark sky. Windows upon windows took over the front exterior, reaching three or four stories high. You couldn’t see where the estate started or where it ended. It was rare to find an entire manor constructed of old rustic concrete and stone located on the outskirts of Miami. Old century architecture at its finest, giving off an eerie vibe in itself before you even stepped foot inside. Which was the only fucking point of owning this type of estate. A property like this was bought for one reason alone, complete and utter fucking privacy, used for what, I was soon to find out.

I walked over the threshold into an immense foyer laced with floor-to-ceiling intricate dark mahogany woodwork. Housing the most dramatic grand staircase I’d ever seen that split at the top. A huge gothic-style chandelier with real burning candles hung above my head, illuminating the menacing lure of the space. Casting shadows off the two sculpted eagles perched on their own pillars, guarding the stairs with intense regard. Only fueling my rampant thoughts of what fucked-up shit could feasibly transpire behind these closed doors.

Though the scent of expensive cigars, sophisticated cologne, and designer perfume was what caught my attention the most. Screaming nothing but fucking cold hard cash.

No doubt, blood money.

The whole décor and allure to this place was ominous and demoralizing. Every room had the same theme throughout—a haunting, leering feeling of being watched. Death peering around every goddamn corner you turned. To the point you could practically breathe in the souls being dragged to Hell, clawing at your feet to join them. I could sense these jaded walls had witnessed more tortuous brutality than I cared to think about.  

I grabbed a drink at the bar, looking for the reason I was even here, not finding her anywhere among the lavishly dressed groups of people.

“Would you like me to escort you to the main event, sir?” a busty brunette asked, bringing my attention to her.

“Main event?” I repeated, taken back.

“Yes, sir. You’re already late.”

I nodded, setting down my drink on the bar. “Lead the way.”

She smiled, gesturing toward the adjacent hall under a large archway to another connecting room. I followed close behind her, caught off guard when she steered us outside, exiting the back of the manor. It wasn’t until she started walking toward a set of uneven cement stairs with dark stone walls lined with moss leading underground, my mind began racing with thoughts of this being a set-up. Not knowing what the fuck I was about to walk into.

She opened a steel door at the end of the stairs and gestured to another set indicating this was my moment of truth, freely make my way right into the gates of fucking purgatory, versus staying in limbo with her.

I arched an eyebrow, mirroring her devious stare. “No more tour guide?”

She shook her head no. “Only you, sir.”

Instead of giving it a second thought, I moved past the woman and winked, taking the steps down two at a time. My thoughts suddenly shifted to Amira, wondering if she was already underground as my hand hovered over my gun inside my tuxedo jacket. Mentally preparing myself to take some motherfuckers out if crossed.

Now, I’d seen some fucked up shit in my time, been involved in even worse shit, but as I walked through the dark, dingy narrow stairway surrounded by black walls into what appeared to be a rundown, piece of shit basement, I never fucking imagined seeing anything like this.

It smelled like mold with a pungent trace of sweat, and a strong scent of copper from the dried-up blood on the concrete walls and floor. Mixed in with the fresh blood gushing out of the men in front of me. Dim lighting surrounded the cold dungeon, which definitely resembled what Hell might look like. You could practically feel the seediness of it all as the Devil played his games.

There were crowds of people standing around in a large, open circle dressed to the motherfucking nines, not a hair out of place on anyone. The men wore tuxedos, smoking and drinking, while the women wore thousands of dollars in jewelry and gowns. Wreaking havoc in a cellar they wouldn’t dare step foot into in broad daylight.

All of them destructively chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” repeatedly with no end in sight.

Their bodies moving with the same momentum as the adrenaline coursing through their veins, flowing in the sordid air. Some had wads of cash in their hands, strenuously pumping their arms out in front of them. Aggressively witnessing two men shredded in muscle, wearing only gym shorts, beating the living shit out of each other. Fighting bare-knuckled with no shoes or protection at all. Their bodies and faces covered in dirt, sweat, and fresh blood.  

I stood and watched from the bottom of the stairwell, needing a few minutes to analyze the situation. My instincts and sensory perception kicked into overdrive, on high alert, feeling as though I was the one who was fighting for his life in front of everyone. I tried to scan the basement looking for Amira, but it was too jam-packed to find her petite frame sticking out among the crowd of blood-thirsty voyeurs. I spotted Vlad who was standing in the back with his arms crossed over his chest, his concentrated stare on the fighter covered in tattoos.

Waiting for God knows what.

Another man, who I assumed worked for Vlad, was standing beside him keeping tally for bets placed with chalk on the bloody wall behind him. My attention snapped back to the fighter he was fixated on, just as his fist collided with the other man who looked to be Hispanic. His head whooshed back, taking half of his body with him.

“I got ten thousand on Noah!” one of the women eagerly shouted, lifting up a wad of bills.

Noah?

Narrowing my eyes, I focused on the guy they called Noah, trying to get a better look at him. Realizing it was indeed who I thought.

Creed Jameson’s brother? What the fuck was he doing getting involved with Vlad?

I hadn’t seen him since I first met Giselle in Oak Island at that restaurant.

It had been, what? Five, six years?

The other fighter spit blood on the floor, charging Noah, and ramming his shoulder into his sternum. Taking him to the ground and causing his back to skid across the blood-smeared cement floor. Noah instantly fought back, managing to flip him over to straddle his waist and clock him in the head several times. Not letting up on destroying his fucking face.

“I got fifteen thousand on Noah!” a man standing in the front yelled out while the crowd went fucking wild.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” they seethed, louder and louder. Fueling his murderous rage.

“I got forty thousand more on Noah!” someone else screamed beside him, vigorously rousing the deviant energy erupting from the crowd like a fucking volcano.

No mercy.

No morality.

No. Fucking. Souls.

Noah punched him square in the gut, causing him to fall to the side and then used the momentum of his blow to flip him over again. Locking him in with his legs and weight. The man immediately guarded his face but it didn’t matter, Noah rammed his fists into his ribs, his stomach, getting another few good hits to the sides of his head as well. Hitting him over and over again.

Noah’s desolate and brazen eyes never wavered from the man he was fucking up. His chest heaved, his nostrils flared. He looked like a rabid fucking animal with a mixture of both their blood and sweat slithering down his face and body.

“I got sixty grand on Noah!” another person called out from the crowd.

The guy threw Noah off and side kicked him in the stomach as he stood up, sending him reeling to the ground. Staggering to regain his footing. Using his moment of weakness, he came for Noah, punching, kicking, hitting him all over.

“I got thirty grand on Rubino!” a woman shouted the other fighter’s name for the first time.

“I got another twenty thousand on Rubino!” someone else chimed in. Spurring his determination to take Noah out.

For some reason, my rigorous stare went back to Vlad who still stood there calm and collected.

Once again, just fucking waiting for I don’t know what.

Noah’s battered body rolled on the ground, recoiling from his brutal and vicious assault. It didn’t look like he was going to get back up either, apparently down for the fucking count.

“Forty thousand on Rubino!”

“Sixty thousand on Rubino!”

More bets for the contender roared through the air, one right after another until Vlad suddenly appeared through the crowd, making his way to the center stage. Standing a few feet away from where Rubino continued to pounce on Noah. I thought he was going to say the fight was over, declaring Rubino the winner to save Noah’s ass since he was obviously his fighter.

He didn’t so much as give them a second glance, but I never expected him to announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, choose his fate,” turning this into some sort of Mortal fucking Combat game.

I jerked back with wide eyes, blown away.

The crowd didn’t hesitate in chanting, “Death! Death! Death!” with several wagers for Rubino mixing in between.

He was allowing these rich ass fucking people to play God, because money could literally buy you anything. Including watching and betting on someone to be murdered for pure entertainment and fun.

Vlad turned and watched from where he stood, his expression void of any emotion as Rubino’s fists ripped Noah to shreds. Causing his body to tumble around in circles, finally landing flat on his stomach, face down.

Rubino jumped around him with his fists up, daring the motherfucker to get up. “Come on, you pussy, can’t even fight for your life?” he taunted Noah. “You haven’t seen nothing yet. Get up!” Right when he was going in for the kill, Noah sat up on his hands and knees and glared right into his opponent’s eyes.

Blinking away the haze, sweat, and blood gushing from the severe gash above his left brow, waiting to attack and fucking slaughter. He caught Rubino’s foot that was aimed directly at his face and forcefully shoved it out of the way while he simultaneously pushed off the ground to stand. Using all his strength, he gripped onto Rubino’s head and started kneeing him repeatedly in the face. Savagely pushing and pulling his skull toward his knee, ferociously connecting them at the same time, executing one hell of a fucking blow and the comeback of a lifetime.

Making the crowd go fucking ape shit with bets, chanting, “Noah! Noah! Noah!” and for the first time that night…

I saw Vlad fucking smile, now recognizing all along what he had truly been waiting for.

And right then, I felt her. The only goddamn angel in the room. I found her guarded stare from across the distance between us, mirroring mine from the scene unfolding in front of her as well. We locked eyes through the chaos exploding around us, as if we were the only two people in the closed insidious space. Trying to seek refuge within each other, fully aware this was all sorts of fucked up.

There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in my entire being that she didn’t fucking love me as much as I loved her and, for the life of me, I could never figure out why. I was slowly tearing down her guarded wall which I couldn’t have been more fucking grateful for. I was just as exhausted from the bullshit between us as she was, if not more. I was far from a patient man, especially when it came to her. Feeling as though I’d already been waiting several fucking lifespans to claim her as my own, jumping over hurdles and through hoops to get to where we were now.

Amira was the love of my life.

The purpose of my existence.

My torment and my goddamn comfort.

I couldn’t tell you how long we stood there, looking into one another’s eyes until Roman abruptly grabbed onto her arm, tugging her away. Breaking our connection.

It was then I realized the room was being cleared out. The fight was over and people were walking up the stairs past me to go celebrate Noah’s victory and their blood money, exiting the main event. I peered back toward the middle of the room where Rubino’s lifeless body was being dragged out through another exit. Vlad hovered above Noah with his arms still crossed over his chest as his fighter sat in a metal chair, spaced the fuck out while a man who seemed to be a doctor was checking him over.

I looked around for Amira again, quickly realizing she disappeared. They must have left through another exit during the chaos because there was no way she slipped past me.

Fuck.

Taking one last glance at Noah, whose spirit screamed broken and fucked as much as his body did, I turned and sprinted up the stairs. Rushing my way back toward the estate, needing to find her, feeling like my life depended on it. The rooms were already crowded with endless amounts of people feeding off the depravity of each other. Music played loudly through the speakers as everyone mingled and carried on without a care in the world, not giving a flying fuck about what we all just witnessed. I hated Amira being here among all these soulless people, she didn’t belong in this world.

Not now.

Not ever.

My blood boiled to the point of searing pain, blinded by craze and madness looking for her but coming up empty. I knew she was still at the party—I felt her presence—but she was nowhere to be found. I decided to grab another drink at the bar, hoping it might help my overly distressed state. Standing there, only thinking about her as I downed my drink. I couldn’t control the inner turmoil or the wave of emotions soaring through my mind, taking over my body.

For a man who prided himself on control, I had absolutely none when it came to her. She owned every last part of me, proving it heavily with every passing moment, and with each rigid, deep breath, and with every blink of my panic-ridden eyes, I still was unable to find her.

Nothing logical was able to form in my judgement, other than my love and devotion for a woman I never deserved, but would be mine nonetheless. Just as my last thread of patience was about to fucking snap, I really lost my shit when I spotted Vlad out the corner of my eye, talking to a group of guests out on the balcony. The bastard was once again about to be on the receiving end of my fucking fury. I rushed through the crowd of people, not giving a shit who I knocked into, and I was in his face in two seconds flat.

“Where the fuck is she?” I glared at him.

He narrowed his bemused eyes at me, arching an eyebrow. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m here for Amira, and if you don’t tell—”

“Amira isn’t here. I don’t know where she is. Why the fuck do you keep showing up to places you aren’t invited to?”

“She left?”

“Left where?”

“Jesus Christ, motherfucker. Here. Did she leave after the—”

“What are you rambling about? Why would she be here? I didn’t invite her or you. Now get the fuck out before I have you removed, permanently.”

I jerked back, confused. Scoffing out, “What the fuck? I got an invitation—” I stopped myself, an internal thought from our last altercation came flooding back.

“I’m the last man you need to be protecting her from,” Vlad argued, catching me off guard by his statement. “There are far worse men in our world to be worrying about. My intentions weren’t malicious, at least not tonight.”

“Fuck…”

A guest tapped on Vlad’s shoulder, making him turn around, and I hauled ass, leaving him there, tearing back toward the basement with my thought from earlier splitting through my mind.

A property like this was bought for one reason alone, complete and utter fucking privacy, used for what I was soon to find out.

I thought my life had ended when I left Amira in Cuba, but the chain of events that happened in the next few minutes proved I couldn’t have been more fucking wrong. For the second time that night, I willingly walked into the gates of Hell, realizing it was never a set up for me.

It was one…

For her.