Page 96 of Shattered Obsession

The door jolts. A chill races down my spine. And then it shakes a second time with another loud bang.

It slams against the wall with a crash.

Damian stands there, grinning, as if this moment had been scripted for him all along. There’s fresh blood dried on his knuckles, glistening darkly under the flickering candlelight. The smile stretching across his face chills me to the core, a morbid tableau that sends my heart tumbling into despair.

“Miss me?” he taunts, and my phone slips from my grasp, clattering to the floor. Every cell in my body screams to run, but my legs refuse.

Damian steps closer.

His footsteps are soft. Unhurried. He wants me to see how calm he is.

Predators don’t rush.

Only prey does.

Bella lunges, teeth bared, a snarl tearing from her throat. Damian kicks her brutally to the side.

Something in me snaps.

Not fear.

Rage.

A spark I didn’t know I still had ignites in my chest.

He expects me to crumble.

He expects silence.

But inside, something sharp takes shape.

The last sound I hear before he steps inside is Bella’s furious bark, full of instinctive rage, swiftly followed by my own scream.

-Xander-

With a grunt, I shove the wrench back into the toolbox, wiping the sweat from my brow with my forearm, feeling the sting of grease and grime mix with the perspiration. The rhythm of nuts and bolts has kept my hands busy, a shallow comfort while my mind churns. No matter how hard I focus, a gnawing anxiety claws at my insides. Every tick of the clock, every heartbeat away from Thalia, feels like an hour. She had reassured me earlier that she was fine, craving a little quiet for herself, but the shadows on my mind keep whispering doubts.

I push the thoughts aside with a grit of determination. I remind myself that it’s just a few more hours. I’ll see her, hold her, and everything will fall back into place.

My phone rests on the workbench, plugged in to ensure it doesn’t die, but when I check it, instead of lighting up, it remains dark and unresponsive. I wiggle the cord, trying to power the device back on. But when nothing happens, I yell across the shop to see if anyone has a cord that will work. A buddy of mine brings one over, and I immediately plug it in, holding the power button.

The screen hums to life, and I barely glance down, expecting just the normal updates. But then I freeze, my heart plummeting as I absorb the chaos of missed calls and messages flashing before my eyes. Seventeen missed calls. Eight voicemails. Nine texts. All from Thalia.

Cold dread seeps into my veins, turning my blood to ice. The feeling is like cement pressing on my ribs, constricting until I can hardly breathe. Panic ignites, starling and fierce, roaring up in me like wildfire.

My hands tremble, shaking so violently that I fumble to open the call log, each missed call timestamped within the last hour.

A man can survive heartbreak.

He can survive betrayal.

But the moment he realizes he may lose the one person who pulled him out of hell, he becomes feral.

I sprint through the shop, keys clattering in my hand. The guys yell after me, confused, but their voices fade into static.

All I see is Thalia.

Crying.