Damon stepped over Julian’s body without a second glance, his eyes sweeping across the bloody expanse of the warehouse floor.
He turned toward the broken side exit, his ruined coat hanging loose around his shoulders.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
Eleanor stood frozen three paces behind him, her eyes fixed on the limp shape of her ex-husband crumpled against the sedan’s rear tire.
Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths.
Damon didn’t wait for her.
He walked out into the freezing night, his heavy boots crushing shards of glass on the pavement outside.
Eleanor snapped back to reality.
She pulled her sweater tight around her chest, looked at the slaughterhouse one last time, and hurried out into the dark after him.
The sedan’s passenger door was already open.
Damon climbed inside the black car , tossing his blood-soaked coat onto the rear bench.
Eleanor slid into the passenger seat beside him, her hands trembling as she pulled the door shut.
The drive back to the city was completely silent.
Damon drove with one hand on the wheel, his face pale.
Through his torn shirt, the jagged shotgun tear along his collarbone was no longer spurting blood.
The blood had thickened, clotting into heavy scabs.
Deep inside his leg, where the pistol round had punched through his thigh, the agonizing throb had faded into a dull, hot itch as demon energy reknit muscle tissue and forced the crushed capillaries back together.
Eleanor kept her eyes on him from the side.
She saw the deep gash on his cheek closing up, the red edges pulling tight without a drop of fresh blood escaping.
She saw his chest expanding normally, the grind of his broken ribs softening into place with every mile they covered.
She swallowed hard, her voice trembling slightly when she finally broke the silence.
“Your chest…
your leg…
how are you driving like that?”
Damon didn’t look away from the road.
“My body handles injuries on its own.”
He didn’t explain further.
Ten minutes later, the sedan pulled up behind the run-down brick apartment building in the lower district.
The contrast was jarring.
Hours ago, Damon had sat in the back office of Velour calculating regional distribution routes.
An hour ago, he had butchered an entire private security force in an abandoned warehouse.
Now, he was stepping through a wooden door frame into a small, sparsely furnished one-bedroom apartment.
He peeled his ruined shirt off and tossed it straight into the metal trash bin near the kitchenette.
He stood bare-chested under the warm yellow light of the single ceiling bulb.
Broad muscle was mapped across his back and torso, pale skin marked only by fading lines where deep blade cuts and bullet holes had been open wounds an hour prior.
He walked over to the small counter, poured a glass of tap water, and drank it down in three long swallows.
Eleanor remained near the front door.
She hadn’t taken off her coat.
Her hair was slightly unkempt , her cheeks flushed, her eyes reflecting the atmosphere of the small room.
She couldn’t stop looking at him.
Every time she closed her eyes, she didn’t see the tiny apartment or the peeling wallpaper.
She saw Damon laughing while Viktor’s blade sliced his shoulder.
She saw him snapping Julian’s neck against the car window without an ounce of hesitation.
Damon set the empty glass on the counter with a soft clink.
He turned around, leaning his lower back against the wood, his bare chest slick with faint sweat as his core finished burning off the physical strain.
He looked straight at her.
“Your problems are gone,” Damon said plainly.
Eleanor’s throat tightened.
“I know.”
“Julian is dead,” He continued, his voice smooth.
“Your business is free.
His distribution network is yours to take.
Vance will hand over every regional ledger by tomorrow afternoon.”
He paused, letting the silence fill the narrow kitchen.
“I did all of that for you,” he said.
He took a slow step forward.
“So you should know what I want in return.”
Eleanor didn’t back up.
Her heart thundered against her ribs, a hot wave of blood rushing straight to her ears.
She had known this moment was coming before they even left the warehouse.
She had felt it in the heavy silence of the car ride, in the way he had casually wiped Julian’s blood off his hand, in the dominance he carried without ever having to raise his voice.
She didn’t feel cheated.
She didn’t feel lied to.
Damon had never played the heroic gentleman.
He hadn’t brought flowers, he hadn’t made soft promises or pretended to save her out of pity or love.
From the moment he stepped into Velour and demanded her ledgers, he had treated her like he intended to own.
And he had delivered.
In a single night, he had smashed the man who had tormented her life, erased her debts, restored her freedom, and handed her an entire commercial enterprise on a silver platter.
She knew what he was.
She knew he was a monster who enjoyed violence and took whatever he pleased.
But looking at his broad shoulders, his dark, bottomless eyes, and the unyielding power radiating from his frame, she realized something that sent a shiver straight down her spine.
She didn’t want to refuse him.
Julian had taken everything from her for five years while treating her like a fragile decorative ornament.
Damon had given her back her pride, her business, and her life and he demanded her in return.
Damon stopped two feet away from her.
He didn’t ask if she was ready.
“You know what my reward is,” Damon said, his tone flat.
Eleanor’s breathing hitched.
She let her coat slip from her shoulders, letting the heavy fabric drop to the floorboards at her feet.
She stepped straight into his space, her chin lifted, her eyes looking up into his with a fiery, unreserved surrender.
She had made her calculation, and she was done playing the victim.
Damon reached out, his long fingers wrapping firmly around her slim waist, pulling her flush against his chest.
Eleanor gasped as the heat of his bare skin pressed through her sweater, her hands rising instantly to grip his broad shoulders.
Damon didn’t say another word.
He turned her around and walked her straight toward the dark bedroom at the end of the hall.