The Devil You Loved
The storm had passed, but its wreckage lingered—in the shattered silence of Damon's penthouse, in the way Kaia's pulse thundered louder than her heels on the marble floor.
She clutched the flash drive in her fist like a weapon. Like the truth could bleed for her.
He stood in the doorway of his study, a shadow in the dim light. Shirt undone, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon—and maybe he had. A war of his own making. Of hers too.
"You really thought you could lie next to me," he said slowly, voice smooth and lethal, "and steal from me?"
"I didn't steal," Kaia replied, voice cold. "I took back what was never yours."
Damon stepped forward, and the temperature dropped.
"I protected you."
"By burying the truth?"
He didn't answer. Just looked at her like she was something divine and damned all at once.
"I mourned you," he said after a beat. "For two years. Died a little with every fucking breath I took. And then you came back… looking like the devil I still dream about."
Kaia's breath hitched.
"I am the devil you loved," she said, voice low. "But I'm not here for love. I'm here for war."
His mouth twisted into something between a smirk and a snarl. "Then why'd you let me touch you?"
She stepped closer, a dangerous glint in her eye. "So you'd lower your guard."
He chuckled darkly. "You used sex as a smokescreen?"
"I used you as a weapon."
That landed.
Damon's eyes darkened. His hands flexed at his sides, jaw ticking. "And what now, Kaia? You gonna run again? Hide in the shadows and hope this all burns down behind you?"
"No," she said, stepping past him, slow and deliberate. "I'm going to expose every lie you buried. Every secret your family paid for in blood. I'm going to tear your legacy apart, brick by brick."
He moved. Fast.
In one breath, he was in front of her again, grabbing her wrist, spinning her until her back hit the wall. The flash drive clattered to the floor.
"You want a war?" he rasped, eyes inches from hers. "Then don't come dressed for seduction."
Kaia didn't flinch. "You don't get to play the victim, Damon. You chose silence. You chose loyalty to your house over love. Over me."
"I chose survival," he growled. "And you have no idea what that cost."
"Then enlighten me," she snapped. "Or better yet—kill me like you should've two years ago."
A moment of thick, pulsing silence.
Damon's grip loosened, but he didn't step back. His forehead dropped against hers, voice rough and wrecked. "I couldn't kill you. I still can't."
Kaia's hands were trembling. With fury. With want. With the chaos he stirred every time he got too close.
"Then don't stop me."
His lips brushed hers—slow, agonizing. A question. A challenge. A curse.
But she kissed him anyway. Hard. Bruising. Like they were trying to rip the truth from each other's mouths.
And then he lifted her.
Pinned her.
The heat between them ignited into an inferno, mouths clashing, limbs tangled, pain and pleasure blurring into something primal.
"You hate me," he whispered against her neck.
"I need to," she gasped.
He bit down—not cruel, but close.
And she shattered.
But when it was over—when the fire faded into sweat and silence—Kaia didn't curl into him.
She rolled away.
Dressed in silence.
Picked up the flash drive.
And turned to him with eyes cold as steel.
"I'll burn you down before I ever fall again."
He didn't stop her.
Didn't beg.
Didn't follow.
But the look in his eyes was a storm waiting to strike back.
---
Scene Break — Underground Archives, Later That Night
Kaia sat alone in a rented room under an old archive facility, laptop open, fingers trembling as she inserted the flash drive.
Her mother's voice—recorded, encrypted, raw—crackled through the speakers.
"If you're hearing this, it means they got to me. Damon's father… they used the serum. Not just on me. On her."
Kaia's blood went cold.
"My daughter was born into fire. But they want to turn her into a weapon."
The file ended.
Kaia stared at the screen, heart hammering.
They hadn't just killed her mother.
They'd used her.
Experimented on her.
Built her into the very chaos she now carried in her bones.
---
Back at the Penthouse — Damon
Damon stared at the empty bed, her scent still tangled in the sheets, the taste of her defiance still on his lips.
He poured himself a drink.
Didn't take it.
Just stared at the wall, breathing like a man on the edge of war.
"She's going to ruin us all," he murmured.
But what terrified him most… was that he'd still kneel for her.
Every. Single. Time.