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"I'm going to make this up to you," he continues. "Even if I have to spend the rest of my life doing so."
Tears break free, streaming down my cheeks and nestling into the warmth of his embrace. I'm taken over by an overwhelming torrent of emotions, a maelstrom of fear, relief, and love.
Minutes bleed into one another as I cry. When the storm subsides into a drizzle, humor flickers, fragile but defiant. "Do you have any more crazy family members I should know about? Because I'm not sure our baby can handle inheriting psychotic tendencies."
A soft chuckle vibrates against me before Damien's lips find mine. The laughter gives way to a kiss, deep and all-consuming.
The moment shatters with the grotesque soundtrack of gagging. "My eyes can't take it anymore. Can you swap spit outside?" Julian groans. I glance over to see Victor holding Seraphina protectively. Her face is hidden in his chest and leaves me with questions that buzz like flies.
The ominous click of a gun cocking slices through the air. "I'm going to shoot you if you don't take your hands off her," Julian asserts, steel wrapped in venom.
Seraphina whirls around, fury blazing in her eyes. "I'm seeking comfort. He's giving me comfort. Stop threatening him," she snaps back, her voice a wild thing unleashed. "You say you're my brother, but you're treating me like property."
Shock washes over Julian's face. "I'm sorry, that was not my intent." I watch as Damien and Victor exchange glances, wide-eyed with shock at Julian's rare concession.
"Seems like someone doesn't want to make their little sister mad," Damien teases, a wry smile touching his lips.
Julian's glare could curdle milk, but there's an undercurrent of relief there, too. A relief that maybe, just maybe, we've all come through this closer than before.
Everything is over. Damien calls in more of his men to clean up and demolish the house, erasing any hint of the nightmare that just unfolded. As we move through the debris and crumpled bodies, each step takes us further from the chaos. He and I walk the distance to the vehicles parked on the edge of this emotional battleground, our footsteps heavy with exhaustion and hearts burdened with what-ifs.
Sliding into the passenger seat, I glance at the rearview mirror one last time, watching as the house disappears from view as we drive away. The engine hums to life under Damien's skilled hands, and a profound sense of gratitude washes over me. Gratitude that we're leaving together hearts still beating, lives still entwined.
In this moment, everything else can wait. 'Our normal,' I muse; whatever shape it takes, it is ours to rebuild. With a contented sigh, I lean back in my seat, feeling Damien's warm hand encasing mine, his thumb caressing my skin in gentle, soothing strokes.
"I love you, Isabella," he says, his voice tinged with an emotion that echoes the depth of the day's events. I intertwine my fingers with his, anchoring myself in the reality of his presence.
"I love you too, Damien," I reply, letting the weight of those words carry us toward a future we'll forge together, scars and all.
35
CHAPTER 35
Isabella
The sun is setting, and as I stand in the warmth of its fading rays, I can't help but reflect on the turbulent turn our lives have taken. Since the kidnapping, wild rumors have circled like vultures over roadkill, painting a tale of tragedy for the Blackharts, Hawthorns, and Nightingales. A boat party gone awry, ending in an unforgiving sea. That's the official story, at least.
Whispers in the underworld tell a different narrative. One where Damien became the grim reaper of souls and Julian the embodiment of vengeance. It's a story that's bred a new kind of silence, one lined with fear and unspoken respect.
We held funerals for Damien’s mom and sister about a week after my kidnapping. I stood next to Damien with my hand in his, offering what little strength I could. As usual, he stood there in his unflappable manner. People came in droves, offering hushed condolences that slipped through the air like sighs. Each phrase uttered was the same 'I'm sorry for your loss'.
They shuffled past, acknowledging me with nods and the briefest of smiles, but none dared to utter a word of the past, of the union I had with Jackson. I'm certain it's the fear of what lies within Damien’s heart that silenced their tongues. Damien's reputation made it clear that he wouldn't tolerate any slander about his wife.
After the funerals, we found our normal. Damien had gone back to Blackhart Enterprises, giving his assistant Tina some much-needed vacation. He may still have his fingers in the darker dealings of the family business, but every evening, without fail, he walks through the front door in time for dinner. It turns out, I did have an inheritance, but I decided to put it away from our child, or children, if we decide to have more. The months flew by, and my body swelled with the life inside me. Damien attended every doctor's appointment, making sure things with me and the baby were fine.
I couldn't help but complain about the extra pounds and the way my feet disappeared beneath the gentle, rounded bump of my belly. It felt as though I waddled more than walked. Damien would just look at me with a sparkle of something deep and loving in his eyes. He assured me I was beautiful, and his words wrapped around me like a warm, comforting shawl. Each time his gaze lingered over my protruding belly, it darkened with a promise, a silent pledge that set my heart beating.
"Can't wait to do it all over again," he would murmur, and it sent shivers down my spine.
Me? I can barely think about going through another pregnancy when the end of this one seems like a distant dream. The readiness to meet our baby buzzes through me like a frenetic energy I've no outlet for. Each moment, I'm acutely aware that our child could announce its arrival at any given second.
"Hi, baby," Damien's voice interrupts my thoughts.
It's a gentle tether pulling me back to the now. I've been sitting on the couch with the TV playing softly in the background, delivering a movie I haven't really been watching. I turn towards him with a smile, feeling a warm flutter in my chest.
"Hey, you're home early," I say.
He strides in with that familiar confidence, shrugging off his suit jacket and handing it to the butler, who disappears with practiced discretion. Damien closes the gap between us and leans down, his lips meeting mine in a deep kiss. His presence and his touch are something I've grown to crave more with each day that passes.
