Ariana's POV
Pain. That was all I knew.
It throbbed in every breath, every twitch of my fingers, every attempt at blinking. My ribs screamed, my head pounded, and it felt like knives were buried deep in my chest. I tried to move but my body betrayed me, heavy as stone.
The room was quiet except for the faint beep…beep…beep of the heart monitor. The sterile smell of antiseptic clung to my skin. I hated it. I hated that I was here. I hated that I let him touch me again. My so-called father.
Tears stung my eyes, hot and angry. He had broken me all over again, and this time, he left me barely alive.
The door burst open with such force that I jumped despite the agony ripping through me. Heavy footsteps stormed in. Voices followed, urgent, terrified.
"No, sir, you can't go in there..."
"Out of my way, or I'll put a bullet between your eyes."
That voice. Deep. Cold. Dangerous. My body relaxed against the mattress even as my heart hammered wildly.
Damian.
I blinked slowly, vision blurry, and saw him. My monster. My savior. My undoing.
He stood in the doorway, broad shoulders filling the frame, his suit dark as midnight. His jaw was clenched, eyes burning like two shards of blue fire. Two of his men flanked him, one dragging a doctor by the collar, the other pointing a gun at a trembling nurse.
"Where the fuck were all of you when she was screaming for her life?" Damian's voice was thunder, shaking the walls of the hospital room. "You let him touch her. You let him put his filthy hands on her again."
"Sir—please—we—" The doctor stammered, face pale.
A gunshot cracked, loud and merciless. The bullet lodged itself in the wall an inch from the doctor's head. The man collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
"You think I need excuses?" Damian growled. "The only reason you're still breathing is because I don't want her to open her eyes to blood."
His men nodded stiffly. Everyone in that room knew he meant it.
I tried to speak, to tell him to stop, but my throat was raw, my jaw aching from the beating. Only a strangled sound came out.
It was enough. His head snapped toward me instantly. The fire in his eyes softened.
"Ariana."
The name was a vow on his lips. He crossed the room in three strides, the air shifting with his presence. His hands, large and veined, cupped my face so gently it was almost unreal.
"Baby…" His voice broke, just slightly. "Look what they did to you."
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and for once, I didn't try to hide them. I hated crying. I hated being weak. But with him…with him I let it show.
"He…he came back," I whispered, every word a knife in my chest.
His jaw tightened. "Your father."
I nodded weakly.
The shift in him was immediate. He rose, shoulders taut, and barked orders. "Find him. Now. I want him crawling to beg for death by the time I'm done. Break his legs, his arms, leave nothing untouched. And when he begs? Tell him Damian Carter doesn't grant mercy."
"Yes, boss," one of his men snapped, already moving.
The nurse whimpered. The doctor scrambled back toward the door. But Damian's gaze stayed on me, softening again as if there were two versions of him, the monster and the man, both warring, both mine.
He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing strands of hair from my forehead. "I should've been here. I never should've left you unguarded. That's on me."
"You had…business," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"Fuck business." His hand trembled slightly as he traced the line of bandages around my head. "If anything happened to you, Ariana, I'd burn the world and everyone in it."
Something inside me cracked open. Fear. Desire. Anger. Love. I didn't know anymore. I only knew that in this moment, I wanted to believe him.
I leaned into his hand. He kissed my temple so softly, it almost undid me.
"Rest," he murmured. "I'll deal with everything else. No one touches you again. Not Carlos. Not your father. Not a soul. You're mine."
His words wrapped around me like a chain. Dangerous. Heavy. And yet…safe.
I closed my eyes, letting his warmth pull me into darkness again.
Damian's POV
I sat there for hours, watching her chest rise and fall, each shallow breath slicing me open from the inside. I'd seen bodies riddled with bullets. I'd watched men die slow deaths begging for mercy I'd never grant. But nothing, nothing, hurt like seeing her broken in a hospital bed.
And it was my fault.
Carlos had started a war with me. Her father had dared lay his hands on her. Both were as good as dead.
But what twisted the knife deeper was the look in her eyes when she saw me. Relief. Fear. Love. All tangled. She wanted me, but she was terrified of what came with me. And I couldn't promise her anything different.
I couldn't give her peace. Only power. Only protection. Only blood.
My phone buzzed. Kingston.
"What."
"We have him," Kingston's voice was clipped, efficient. "Her father. He's alive. For now."
"Good. Keep him breathing until I get there."
"Sir...what about her?"
I looked at Ariana, fragile under the white sheets. My woman. My undoing.
"She stays under twenty-four-hour watch. Anyone even looks at her wrong, put a bullet in their head."
"Yes, boss."
I ended the call and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Ariana's bandaged hand.
"You'll never see him again," I whispered. "I swear it."
And this time, it wasn't just a promise. It was an oath. One I'd seal in blood.
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