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I glance at the maze of hallways and rooms laid out before me. "Team One will breach from the back entrance. It's less guarded but has the quickest access to the Hawthorns’ inner sanctum. Team Two will create a diversion at the front. I don't want them to even whisper the word 'retreat' until we have the Hawthorns’ cornered."
Victor nods while jotting down notes. "Explosives for the diversion?"
"No, too risky. We need precision, not chaos. Smoke and flash bangs should suffice. Disorient, displace, control,” I state decisively. "And I will lead Team One personally. I want to look them in the eyes when their empire crumbles."
"You should stay back—" Victor starts.
I cut him off with a hard stare. "This is non-negotiable, Victor. I need to be there. This ends tonight." My voice is a low rumble, a promise of the retribution to come. "Take the rest of the day to prepare. We move as soon as it's dark."
Victor nods sharply, the plan set in stone. "We will be ready, boss."
I nod, rolling up the map, the lines and angles of battle etched into my mind. The Hawthorns have crossed a line, and tonight, they'll pay with their empire.
Victor exits, and the office door closes with a soft click, signaling the start of our plan. I settle deeper into my executive chair, trying to immerse myself in the mundane tasks of signatures and approvals. The things my secretary couldn't do in my absence. Yet each stroke of the pen feels heavy, dragging through my indecision like a blade. Time crawls by and the ticking of the clock syncs with my escalating need to return to Isabella. The distraction of work is futile. My mind is a fortress, and she is the uncontested regent within its walls.
I glance at my watch, aware of each minute that draws me further from the calm before the storm. Then, suddenly, I can't stand it anymore. The waiting, the distance. I rise from my desk as a resolute tide rises to claim the shore.
"Tina," I call out as I stride past my secretary's desk. "I'll be out for the rest of the day. Keep things running." She nods, accustomed to the abrupt changes in my schedule, a silent affirmation of understanding.
As I leave the confines of my office, the anticipation of seeing Isabella again hastens my steps. Tonight, I wage war for the safety of my family. But for now, all I want is to lose myself in the solace of her presence, if only for a moment, before the night unleashes its fury.
I storm into the house like a storm, with my every stride fueled by a fiery mix of purpose and need. The door slams shut behind me, and I call out her name, my voice laced with the raw urgency of a man with everything to lose. The moment she appears, my restraint shatters. I need her in every way imaginable. I pull her close, my lips crashing onto hers, conveying a desperate hunger that borders on madness. I need to get inside my wife. To get in between her legs. It's as close to heaven as I'm going to get.
This could be our last time, and I'm driven by the primal urge to be ensnared within her, to savor the intoxicating warmth of her body as if it's my last breath of air. I carry her to our bedroom, laying her on the bed with a fervor that blurs everything else out of focus. If this night doesn't end in our favor, she might be trapped in mourning once again. A widow bearing the cruelty of fate. However, I've orchestrated plans upon plans, leaving no stone unturned because failure is a specter that has no place in my world.
I am Damien fucking Blackhart. I conquer, I claim, I endure. Tonight, I vow to banish the shadow of death that looms over us because nothing, not even fate itself, will deny me the future we've built. I look into her eyes, giving a silent promise that I will return to her and let the world fade away as we ascend to a crescendo of passion and promise.
Isabella gasps in surprise at my urgency, her eyes alight with a flicker of astonishment and knowing. She can sense the storm brewing within me, the turbulent waves that are crashing against the shores of my restraint.
"What's gotten into you?" she asks with a breathy laugh, and the sound mingles with the air of our entwined existence.
I pause with my hands roaming over her as if to memorize every curve, every line, in case fate demands a ransom I can't pay.
"I need you, baby," I say in a voice thick with emotion before my lips claim hers in a kiss that speaks of raw need, of unspoken fears, and unbreakable bonds.
Dragging her clothes off her body and throwing them on the floor, I climb between her legs, and she spreads them willingly. I position myself at her entrance and thrust in, sinking to the hilt inside my wife. She moans, and a satisfied groan rumbles in my chest. This is heaven. This is what I need. I kiss her, delving deep and taking her moans into me.
“Tell me, baby,” I whisper against her lips as I start to move inside her. “I need to hear the words.”
She moans, and I know she knows what I want. She wraps her legs around my back, and her fingers grip my hair. Our eyes lock, and I can see it. I can see the love reflecting back in her beautiful eyes. I pull out of her, only to thrust back inside, hard. I’m addicted to her. My body moves against her as her moans spur me on. My pace becomes frenzied as I kiss her like I’ll never get the chance again. I fuck my wife with everything in me until her moans turn into screams of ecstasy. I pound inside her, and the sounds of our slapping bodies fill the air.
“Say it,” I demand, thrusting harder inside her. “Your beautiful eyes tell me, but I need to hear the words. Tell me, baby.”
She trails her hand over my jaw before cupping my face. “I love you, Damien.”
“Thank fuck,” I growl and proceed to fuck my wife into oblivion.
I slide away from her, and she's unconscious before I even fully exit the bed, her breath evening out in the muted light of the room. I lost count of how many times I made her come and how many times I came, filling her up each time. Satisfaction warms me. I really wore her out.
With quiet movements, I dress in the shadows of our sanctuary. Her peaceful face beckons for one last touch, and I can't resist bending down to press a soft kiss on her forehead. For a lingering moment, I allow myself to simply gaze at her, at this picture of peace that I'm so desperate to preserve.
As I leave the room, the gravity of the night ahead settles in my bones. It's time to shift focus. Our home behind me feels like a different world as I step out into the chilled evening air. Victor's waiting figure comes into view at our agreed time.
"Let's get this done," I say, my voice low, leaving no room for the chaos of emotions from the past hours. Tonight, I'm not just a man or a husband. I'm the architect of retribution, and every step from here on out is a step towards a future where she never has to fear again.
The night wraps around us like a cloak as we approach the Hawthorn's' compound. A sprawl of darkness was pierced by the guarded floodlights.
"This is it," I breathe out, my voice barely above a whisper. Victor nods, our eyes locking in a silent understanding. We've covered this. Every entrance, every exit, every possible scenario. My heart beats a relentless rhythm, but my hands are steady. This isn't just another mission. It's personal.
