The sound of thunder rolled through the glass walls, flashing lightning across Damien's face. For a moment, Evelyn couldn't breathe — not because of fear, but because of everything he made her feel all at once.
He was still so close she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Too close. Too consuming.
Her pulse stuttered as she whispered, "You think you can just fix everything with a few words and that look of yours?"
Damien tilted his head slightly, that calm, unreadable expression back in place. "You're shaking," he said quietly. "That's not hate."
She laughed softly — a sound that wasn't quite humor. "You always think you know everything, don't you?"
"Only when it comes to you."
His voice was low, velvet mixed with steel. That dangerous confidence that used to make her melt now only made her angry.
"Then maybe it's time you realize you don't," she said, stepping back.
His eyes flickered, just barely — the first sign of surprise she'd ever seen in him.
"Evelyn—"
"No," she cut him off sharply. "You can't just throw people out of your life because they disagree with you. You can't control every heartbeat that doesn't move in your favor."
Damien took one step forward, then stopped himself. His jaw tightened. "You think walking away from me will make you free?"
She swallowed hard. "Maybe not. But staying here will make me forget who I am."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the storm battering against the windows and their uneven breaths filling the space between them.
Damien's expression softened, but the shadow in his eyes didn't fade. "You'll come back," he said quietly. "Not because I'll make you. But because you'll want to."
Evelyn blinked back the sting of tears. "That's what you don't understand, Damien. Wanting you and needing peace… can't exist in the same room."
She turned around before he could answer, her heels echoing across the marble floor.
"Evelyn," he called after her — not commanding this time, not cold. Just her name, spoken softly enough to almost break her resolve.
She didn't look back.
The doors shut behind her, leaving Damien alone with the sound of the rain and the ghosts of everything he couldn't say.
He stared at the spot where she'd stood, jaw set, hands clenched by his sides. For once, he had no plan, no control — only silence.
And in that silence, for the first time in years, Damien realized he might actually lose sThe rain began before she reached the door.
Soft at first — a drizzle that painted the marble floor in silver streaks — then harder, until the sky seemed to weep with her.
Evelyn didn't stop to grab an umbrella.
Didn't even look back.
Her heels clicked fast against the tiles, echoing in the silent hall like gunshots. The chandelier lights blurred behind her through the tears in her eyes — or maybe just the rain.
She didn't know anymore.
By the time she stepped out into the open, her breath was shaking, her chest tight. The world smelled of wet roses and thunder. The wind caught her hair and tossed it wildly across her face.
"Evelyn!" someone called from inside.
It wasn't him.
That was why she didn't turn back.
She kept walking until she reached the car parked near the fountain — the same fountain where Damien had once kissed her for the first time, right under the moonlight, when everything between them had still been sweet and terrifyingly simple.
That memory hurt now.
She pressed her palms against the cold metal of the car and laughed, the sound thin and broken.
"What am I even doing?" she whispered.
Her reflection in the glass looked nothing like her — mascara streaked, lips trembling, eyes lost. She looked like a woman who had loved too deeply, too dangerously. The kind of love that consumes you, piece by piece.
Her pulse still raced from the last few minutes inside.
The way Damien had looked at her — intense, burning, desperate to hold on.
The way she'd looked back — wanting to hate him, but unable to erase the part of her that still craved his voice, his scent, his chaos.
"Don't," she'd told herself before she walked out.
But she had.
She'd looked back one last time — and the pain in his eyes nearly undid her.
Now, outside, the rain mingled with her tears, blurring everything except the ache in her chest.
She could still hear him saying it.
> "You'll come back."
The words haunted her. They weren't a threat. They were a certainty.
And that was what scared her most.
Because deep down, she knew she would.
She got into the car, slammed the door, and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Her fingers trembled. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Every sound — the rain, the engine's low hum, the distant thunder — seemed to drown in the echo of his voice.
Her phone buzzed.
A single message lit up the screen.
> Charles: Are you okay? Do you want me to come back?
She stared at it for a long time.
He was kind.
Gentle.
Safe.
Everything Damien wasn't — and everything she should have wanted.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard before she typed, slowly, painfully:
> No. I just need time.
She dropped the phone beside her, resting her head on the steering wheel.
The sound of rain against the roof became a rhythm — steady, calming, almost hypnotic. And for a moment, she let herself drift back to him.
Damien.
The way his eyes softened when he said her name. The way his hands trembled when he almost touched her — like he was terrified of losing her again. The way he kissed her when words failed him, as if trying to apologize with his soul.
Evelyn pressed her eyes shut, shaking her head.
"No," she whispered. "I can't keep doing this."
But the words didn't have power anymore.
Because no matter how much she wanted peace, peace without him felt like emptiness.
She started the car. The headlights sliced through the storm, but she could still see the mansion glowing faintly through the rain — her prison, her paradise.
Inside those walls, she knew he was standing at the window.
Watching.
Waiting.
Just like he always did.
And she hated herself for hoping he would come after her.
The windshield wipers swept again, clearing the glass just long enough for her to see her reflection.
A woman torn in half — one half walking away, the other still whispering his name.
Her lips parted, barely a breath escaping.
> "Don't come after me, Damien… not tonight."
But even as she said it, her heart betrayed her.
Because deep down, she already knew —
He would.
And when he did… she wouldn't be ready to stop him.
omething he couldn't buy, command, or win.